#he's barely 20 he is allowed to have his teenage moments still

[specific-dreamer]

stay gold is for darry too

“when you’re young and the world is new / it’s easy to forget when you’re trying just to make it through”

bc, cmon guys, darry is twenty. 20, two-zero. idk how different college was back then, so bare with me.

he’s from tulsa oklahoma, the south, and he’s twenty years old. assuming he didn’t take a gap year (i’m going off the musical sayin he had to drop out, instead of not go all together) he would’ve been in his second year of school.

(i’m putting a break here because this turned more into a headcanon than an analysis i fear)

and we know darry’s a lil extroverted social butterfly, i’m sure he made so many friends. do you think he told them he was going home for the weekend but would totally be back for that frat party? or do you think he had a best friend on campus that he couldn’t wait to introduce to his family and the gang because he just knew how’d great they’d get on?

because he’s at a state college likely, there’s gonna be greaser/soc rivalries still but chances are so high that the max tension will be arguments. so it’s likely he even got to (freely, and guilt free) make friends with socs.

his biggest worries sophomore year was if he would finish his homework and papers before the weekend so he could go home for his birthday. his biggest worry was working up the nerve to still his dad he blew his allowance that month on some girl. his biggest worry was struggling with being a first gen college student, juggling his papers and football practice, and his work study.

i’m willing to bet he didn’t even tell his parents he’d be home that weekend. i’m thinkin he told dally, because dally would likely forget to tell the others he was comin and everyone else can’t keep their mouths shut for shit.

i think he went to Oklahoma State, which is only 2 hours from tulsa. so, i’m thinking he caught the greyhound really really early that morning, like crackass of dawn early. and when he gets there it’s probably 6:00 and through the window darry can see his parents rousing soda and pony up for school. (school may start at 8:30, but they got two rowdy teenage boys one of whom hates school to get ready, they’ll wake up an hour earlier than necessary)

darry, in all his older brother glory, probably waits for the perfect moment to make his grand entrance. he’d wait until he hears ponyboy loudly complaining that “darry doesn’t have to wake up this early” and he fuckin grins because that’s the most perfect entry for him.

but he can’t get excited, not yet. he’s gotta act like it’s no big deal that he’s here, so he opens the door all casual like and starts toeing off shoes as he closes it behind him. and in his arrogant, i’m-the-eldest-of-course-i’m-right voice he says, “you’re so right, little brother. i actually woke up three hours ago.” and darry tries his damndest he really does, but he can’t help the way his chest loosens and his grin widens and it feels like every stressful thing he’d been worried about rolls off back when he hears the gasps and “sweet mother mary” from his family when he announces himself.

he probably doesn’t even get his second shoe off before he’s knocked to ground by pony (soda would have too, if he was anymore awake, instead he’s just staring at darry in confusion).

i’m gonna write a fic BUT BACK TO WHAT I WAS SAYING

do you think darry feels guilty for not having called ahead of time? do you think he wishes he stayed at school that weekend so parents wouldn’t have gotten in that wreck? do you think a small of darry, a part that he hates as each day passes, wishes that he let the social workers take his brothers? only to instantly regret that train of thought when his brothers crawl into his bed at 10pm trying to stop shaking and crying so they don’t “wake” darry

do you think that it was in that moment, that all those childhood jokes with his parents and phony arguments with paul suddenly became real. that sodapop and ponyboy are his babies. they may not be his in the same way that curly and angela are tim’s kids, but his friends at school are always sayin darry needs to stop referring to pony as his “littlest”.

we know darry didn’t cry at the funeral (or at all, at least to pony’s knowledge) but i really think college was such a breath of fresh air for darry that he was probably holding back sobs when he called his schools admission office to drop out.

i think before they could bury their parents properly, darry had to convince his brothers to go down to school with him so he could pack his things up. (i say convince because i think pony might’ve cried himself hoarse thinking that darry was going back to school and leaving them alone)

do you think darry cried the night before they went down to oklahoma state? because his friends were finally going to meet his littles that he could never seem to stop talking about. he’d have to find some way to apologize for missin the frat party (and his 20th birthday, hell, darry thinks his might’ve been more excited than he was) because saying his parents just died and he legally became a father of two is a little too comedic to sound real despite things.

or do you think he avoided his friends like the plague because he knows he’d break down if he saw their pitying eyes? he knew he’d break down if that one girl he couldn’t keep his eyes off of from his psych class saw him and soda carry his boxes to the car and stopped and ask him why he was leaving.

do you think after the funeral when darry made sure his brothers were alright, tucked in for bed and knew they could go find him if they needed anything at all, instead of going to his room he went to his parents room? just to feel their presence one last time. he probably went under their covers too, in the middle like when he was a kid so he could turn left and smell his daddy’s cologne or turn right and smell his mamas rosy perfume, just so he could get one more hug from them. just one more hug before he had to let them go

(do you think when ponyboy inevitably came lookin for darry to scare his nightmares away later that night he got scared when darry wasn’t in his room? do you think he started crying all over again unable to be tough because what if darry’s dead too or worse what if he really did leave them? do you think that’s when pony started sleeping with soda instead. that that’s when his image of darry being a hero cracked because what kind of hero leaves when people are still needing to be saved?)

[ratsetflummi]

Okay, now the FUNNIEST Legend of Drizzt moments. *gets popcorn*

uhhh, how much time do you have?

i need to put this under a read more, because i ended up finding one scene per book on average

told you that this series is actually a comedy

1) that time when drizzt thought that three lighting bolts aimed directly at his face were just a friendly sparring session, and then immediately got distracted and forgot all about that attempted assassination because he saw a cat

2) drizzt and zaknafein both going "oh no, he is lost to the evil ways of our people, i would do the world a service by killing him" at each other, but not doing anything about it

3) the first thing we ever learn about jarlaxle being that he has special gay pride merch that is enchanted so you can still see that it's supposed to be a rainbow even in complete darkness

4) that one human wizard drizzt ran into in the middle of the underdark. just. that wizard's entire existence. why does he have a german accent. why does he keep shooting lightning bolts out of his tower when they keep being reflected back at him. rip brister fendlestick, you were only in that one scene, but i miss you every day

5) the mindflayers going "fwoop!" when they shoot a blast of brain melting energy at you

6) drizzt: who are you? you are not my father! zombie!zaknafein: no, i am your… mother!

7) drizzt learning what a skunk is

8) that one wizard that entreri was travelling with in streams of silver messing up her knock spell and dropping entreri's belt instead, and entreri going against what you would expect from his archetype in that kind of story (which would be getting angry and possibly violent) and just sarcastically going "oh wow, great job" and calmly picking his belt up again

9) drizzt casually revealing that he can juggle, suggesting that either he juggles as a hobby (unlikely) or implying some interesting things about drow weapon training

10) entreri choosing to put sewer water in his mouth just to gain little tactical advantage (and then still losing the fight anyway)

11) entreri showing up disguised as regis, dropping his own name in conversations weirdly often under the assumption that the companions are way more worried about him than they actually are, and the companions being completely oblivious about regis acting way differently than normal

12) entreri's insistence that he and drizzt are great rivals, while drizzt can barely be bothered to remember that entreri exists

13) drizzt training a seal to retrieve guenhwyvar's figurine from the bottom of the ocean

14) the heart-shaped drizzt-seeking locket. the fact that that exists, as well as the fact that entreri had that back in the peak rivalry days

15) entreri casually introducing himself as mister do'urden for absolutely no good reason (i genuinely still don't know why he did that)

16) jarlaxle: kimmuriel, you are the leader of the bregan d'aerthe now, i'm going on a road trip with entreri kimmuriel: i'm what?! entreri: you're doing what?!

17) entreri going to the effort of painting jarlaxle's silhouette on the wall to throw knives at the crotch

18)

19)

20) jarlaxle being peak peacock in promise of the witch-king

21) jarlaxle throwing pies at a random couple in a bakery because he mistook them for assassins

22) the reveal that jarlaxle and kimmuriel were just casually watching entreri fuck his girlfriend

23) the several scenes in pirate king where salvatore seemingly forgot that regis is a halfling, because drizzt keeps putting his arm around regis' shoulders and walking away like that, when really regis' shoulders should be down somewhere around drizzt's knees

24) a manifestation of mielikki coming to carry catti-brie to the afterlife, catti-brie responding that she needs to go sleep with her husband first, and mielikki allowing this and just coming back for her in the morning

25) entreri and dahlia behaving in a way that i can only describe as two teenage girls fighting over their mutual crush

26) the entire scene when they threw charon's claw into the primordial pit and entreri failed to die

27) drizzt: come on an adventure with me! entreri: drizzt, it's two in the fucking morning, what the fuck

28) drizzt making puppy eyes at entreri so he will please go on an adventure with him and entreri just closing the door in his face

29) the entire soap opera that was drizzt and dahlia's relationship

30) kimmuriel walking in on jarlaxle sleeping with at least two drow of undisclosed gender and just standing there and staring until jarlaxle finally puts on his trousers

31) jarlaxle's constant innuendos and seeming inability to shut up about his sex life

32) jarlaxle looking completely calm and composed from the outside at all times, but any scene from his pov revealing that he has no idea what he is doing and is lowkey panicking half the time

33) catti-brie: drizzt is my husband, i have been brought back to life to help him and not for anything else bruenor: yeah, same! uh, except that he isn't my husband

34) the dragons flirting with drizzt and drizzt kinda panicking about how to reject them without being eaten as revenge

35) jarlaxle finding drizzt down in a tunnel fighting demons, and just pulling an entire fine dining set out of his hat and having fancy dinner while his bird is ripping more demons apart just around the corner

36) the reveal that jarlaxle is bald because of repeated fireballs to the face

37) this instance of everyone rolling nat1s on their geography check

38) jarlaxle threatening people with knowledge of his kinks

39) random citizen: she's so pretty jarlaxle: yes, thank you, finally someone who recognizes my beauty

[mooncleaver]

warnings: the battle of manhattan basically, one mention of g*be, loosely canonical

[14:20]

"she's just- agh! i don't even know why im so frustrated!"

his voice leaked with worry, cracking at its seams with barely contained panic that etched his dialogue, utterly maddened at the thought of you being separated from him. he didn't even have time to react properly when you'd disappeared from his sight to help the others prepare for the imminent battle, leaving like a breeze that left him a tangled mess thinking of how he wouldn't be able to protect you if something—gods forbid—ever happened to you. there was simply no time to act on his thoughts; there were so many lives at risk if any single mistake was made in these fragile moments.

much to percy's deathly relief, he got the chance to visit sally one more time before everything went down. though, it was not as joyful as a trip to his mother's would usually be. his movements were frantic, furiously trying to contact you and not attract any monsters at the same time. he paced around the apartment at least twice in a circle, muffled footsteps thudding like the the ones emanating from his heartbeat, a thousand thoughts whirring in his mind faster than he could comprehend.

“percy,” his mother’s distant voice buzzed in his ear but he was too preoccupied to think it wasn't just a figment of his battered imagination. 

sally frowned at her son's condition. he looked out of breath, eyes moving wildly with a burden far too heavy weighing on his shoulder. of course, she knew the perils of the demigod life, already experiencing it first hand when she was held hostage by the god of the underworld. even after she was set free, knowing her son had gone through all of that danger—dangers that a 12 year old should not have to confront, ever—still made her heart palpitate wildly with anxiety and unease. back then.. he was still so innocent to the true cruelty of this world. 

all her life sally had done everything she could to protect him, shouldered the rain for him and took bullets life aimed at them. she believed with her whole heart that he was the greatest blessing to her, a ball of happiness contained into this wonder of a boy. he was her light in the darkness, borne of ardor and genuine adoration between her and a man that seemed to be a myth on earth. and that was what their love story felt like: a golden myth between two lost souls looking for solace. but the world was a wicked thing sometimes, slipping through a back door and carving out a person as it took and took from them. when he left, her salvation came in the form of her son with the brightest eyes and the purest of hearts; sally would be damned if something happened to him. 

but some things were just.. simply meant to be. things like going through a hurt that would mar someone physically and mentally, but also to come back with a love that allowed one to forgive cruel fate. that didn't mean that she wouldn't fight tooth and nail trying to defy it for her only boy. it was a hard pill to swallow but as the saying goes, if you love something, let it go. with time she learnt to let go, to let him experience the life he was meant to live—all the good and bad, the ones that shaped him to be the valiant boy he is now. in the end, he always came back. her baby boy always came back to her with the same heart that was too big for the world.

and to think that dreadful year was just the beginning of it. now, he was preparing for war with a titan. gearing up with armor that looked as if it’d crumble at the sight of an ill-intent heart, with will power that was only just forged, too fragile to be hurt. absolutely no mother in this world would want to see their child off to war—he was just a boy for goodness sake, only fifteen. although he was a teenager already now, grown and mature for his age, in her eyes he'd always be her baby that would munch on her blue cookies, so small and ingenuous as he sat on the marble counters. her baby who was her driving force, her reason and her motivation to give the both of them a better life, even if it meant marrying someone as vile as gabe ugliano. it pained her deeply to see percy so distressed.

she finally reached out to him gently, trying not to surprise him as she hooked her arms over his elbows. "hey, hey, look at me,"

"what's going on?" percy looked up at her, eyes filled with glassy frustration and cavernous fear for the one he was talking about. sally brushed the stray hairs that lamented his forehead after his relentless messing of it, revealing those ceruleans that she adored so much.

"y/n, she- she just left! didn't even tell me where.. just said that she'd go help the rest and that we'd meet in the battlefield.. we were supposed to go there together but.."

oh.. so it was about her. his best friend that he met at camp, his best friend that he would subconsciously ramble about whenever she asked about how life away from home was going. the one that he always seemed to deviate to, even if the conversation wasn't about her in the first place. the same 'best friend' that was clearly brewing into something more at its seams. sally couldn't help but smile at the way her son was fretting over your safety.

"calm your heart, darling, take a deep breathe. everything's going to be okay." and by the gods, there was absolutely no better place in this world than a mother's embrace. he felt the trepidations disappear the moment he succumbed to her allaying scent, eyes closing as the present finally found clemency in his mind. 

she always smelled like milk and honey to him. sometimes with a hint of jasmine or bergamot in fleeting flashes that lingered in his senses, but always milk and honey prevailing. it reminded him of the scent of sweet salvation and oh did he hope that when he dies the promised land was in the arms of his mother.

maybe it was the way sally was caressing his back so tenderly that it reminded him of the way she would do that whenever he felt upset, or maybe it was the way he could feel her heartbeat as he laid his ears against her chest; a heart that beat so passionately with love that it was the sole thing anchoring him in this moment. whatever it was, he knew that it was because she was simply his mother, and a mother's love transcends even words and time.

after letting him come back to his senses for a whim, she cupped the side of his cheek onto her palms, guiding his head to face her with a certain benign only one so passionately loving would show, "it's alright to feel angry or upset. you care about her safety, don't you? care manifests differently in people, percy. and it's okay to feel so vehemently about protecting her. that’s what love does to people.”

percy felt his heart skip a beat.

"i don't-" and she gave him a look that dared him to deny her words once more. percy quickly shut his mouth after, scrunching up his brows. there was so much to say and yet, there was nothing needed to be said. she already understood his heart from a single glance at his face, maybe understood him more than he understood himself. 

"i guess.. you're right." he eventually let out, honestly unsure of himself. what did she mean, love? surely it was a kind of familiar or platonic love.. right? like loving a sister. but his heart painfully protested otherwise.

"of course i am." she smiled cheekily, nudging her elbows onto his side as he looked away, clearly embarrassed.

sally pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead, resting the pad of her thumb on the bags under his eyes and it felt like pure magic; as if her mere touch could heal him. "now you just keep a clear mind and go out there to find her, okay?"

"but what about you, paul-" percy panicked again, now thinking about the safety of the two of the most important people in his life.

“don't worry about us, baby. we're gonna go find somewhere safe to stay. besides, if any fool ever tries me, you know i do have quite the experience with the.. ehem, defense tools." defense tools might sound like a little bit of an understatement. his mother knew how to defend herself well of course. hades, he even convinced her to take on taekwondo lessons at some point. not to mention that she does in fact know how to use a gun—only for emergencies, of course. you can never be too safe from potential danger.

percy let out a breathy chuckle at her words. even in the most dire situations, sally would always manage to spark up a happy light inside of him. with a new-found resolute, he took a deep breathe and steeled his heart, now even more determined to find you and protect the people he loved.

“okay. okay.. i'm gonna leave now. please, please be safe. i love you so much, mom.” he almost jumped into her arms again, squeezing his eyes shut at the crook of her neck so he could burn it in his mind her familiar scent, the feeling of her hug.

sally smiled fondly, replying to him in the gentlest of tones. “i love you too percy.”

and just when he was about to leave out the door he felt her grab onto his arm again, now faced with a scarily sudden threatening look that he did not want to fall prey to again, "and no funny business out there, you hear me young man?" percy didn’t need to be told that twice. she really meant it with the way her eyes earned a sharp gleam to them, ready to pounce if anyone were to disobey her.

"yes ma’am."

and maybe percy didn't understand what this 'love' his mother was talking about before, but when you took that poisoned dagger meant for him, willingly risking your own life for the sake of him, he finally knew what it meant to love someone. to have your heart resting on the tip of their fingers, so easily broken if they were to make a single detrimental shift. to love someone so much that it made him afraid to lose. that notion alone turned his fears into a burning passion, a burning passion to care about you with such devotion that would one day be venerated in the stars, glittering so brightly as if his love refused to falter.

ok but like let me just rave about how much i love my mom and how much i love sally jackson through this fic pls

masterlist

[neuro-gal-thoughts]

I'm trying to remember when I began to hate Septembers. They used to feel like such a curse. I would often fall into a seemingly out of nowhere bout of depression in September. Or something really awful would befall me.

Not to say every year it comes and bad things happen to me, but they certainly were on a streak in my adolescence and young adulthood. Regardless, I tend to brace for stormy weather when I realize September is approaching (or I get pulled over and ticketed for speeding and realize it's September 3rd T-T).

Towards my 30s, Septembers mellowed out. There were a couple years where I barely even took in September.

So last week, I took note of August coming to an end. Generally, feeling grateful that I no longer dreaded living in September because a dark cloud cast over me so heavily all I could do was sleep during the days and stay up all night, unable to face the world like a nightcrawler.

Hell, I would go to the grocery stores at 2:00 or 3:00 in the morning, back when stores were open 24 hours. It was peaceful to walk down empty aisles (save for a few tired employees who were perfectly fine ignoring me as I ignored them, lost in our own late night worlds). To drive on dark, quiet, nearly empty roads.

Back to last week, I only allowed myself a few moments to think about September approach on Friday. On my drive home from work on Thursday morning (yep, still a nightcrawler but I get paid to work these hours), a throwback playlist played Green Day's "Wake Me Up When September Ends" right as I hit a red light.

The truck in front of me had a license plate starting with the letters "DAD-F" followed by the last two digits of my birth year.

That moment made me realize I had to do a final farewell for my dad. Billy Joel Armstrong's song about losing his father. A license plate with the word "DAD"?? "F" as in his Female daughter. And the year I was born.

If I was to prepare for a rough September, how about processing my Father wound some more?

My dad didn't die, but for the last 3-4 years I began unpacking my relationship with my dad. Which snowballed into decentering men and checking myself. Confront my internalized misogyny.

And so I waited until September came to truly let myself think about my dad. I wrote my dad a goodbye letter, coming to the realization that my relationship with my dad essentially ended when I was 12-13 (6th grade) in that process.

At that time, he was having an affair and he and my mom were being generally awful to each other and their kids. And it wasn't that my dad cheated on my mom that made me realize that my dad wasn't my dad anymore.

It was a specific day, one in which my dad wasn't catastrophically awful to me and my siblings, but something about his behavior really stuck with me and that day never left me.

He'd been flippant about watching me and my siblings, usual asshole Dad behavior where he wanted to go out and blew off taking care of his kids. My siblings and I walked to the gas station to buy ice cream and my dad drove off to a buddy's place to play cards and get caught up in his gambling addiction.

My relationship with my dad up to that point had been a childhood filled with happy memories mixed in with complicated, bad, painful memories.

If I could sum up my relationship with my dad into my teen years with one word it would be: strained.

There were bad memories because of course I was an emotional teenager and having someone who was narcissistic like my dad led to stupid arguments between us. But, unlike my childhood, not really any good memories to be had.

After hiding from my feelings by trying to numb them out and ignore them in my 20s, I was able to start working on it in my 30s. Admitting I want my father's love. That I miss the affection and attention he gave me when I was a small child.

That I hate him for being a shitty dad. For being abusive. For being neglectful. For not caring about his kids, not caring about me. For being selfish. For making shitty decisions and expecting other people to clean his messes up for him. For making his resentment so obvious and venomous.

Understanding that his resources for good parenting (much less surviving at many points in his life) weren't the best. Understanding that I can still hate him for being a shitty dad while also having compassion for the struggles he faced in his life so that I can understand that the hurt inflicted upon me was not my fault.

Accepting that I will spend a lifetime working on trust and love because I was shown so little.

And for my own inner peace, to try to see if this helps, I wrote my dad a goodbye letter. Accept that the father/daughter relationship I have always wanted will never be one that I have with my dad. Allow myself to feel my emotions over my dad when they crop up.

They don't carry as much weight as they used to and they don't occur as often as they used to. But I do want to allow myself to feel my feelings when they happen.

And there were signs for me to let my relationship with my dad evolve into what it is becoming now. I don't need to pretend anymore.

[xueyangmybeloved]

i started reading ThousndAutumns and im only on chapter 5rn but wow they changed quite a bit in the first episode of the donghua so that ShenQia0 and YanWu$hi would get a chance to interact and they made it look like YuSh3ngyan wasn’t the one making shit up and interacting with SQ as he nursed him back to health (somewhat since his injuries have left him disabled and powerless and all that atm)

[mrsavery]

Believing in miracles 2

Henry Cavill x Reader

Summary: A girl grew up without believing in miracles until one found her.

Warnings: smut, sex, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, fluff, age gap (the reader is in the early 20s, Henry is in his late 30s), a little bit of angst, but a happy ending, parent abandonment, a Christmas fiction.

Words: 2,6k

Part one

Part two

Time passes unnoticed. It had been a few hours since you kissed, yet you were still wrapped in his strong arms, and Henry held you close to his chest. You had spent the time learning facts about each other, discovering favorite things and talking about the future.

Henry was a world-known actor, and you felt bad for not recognizing him sooner. He, on the other hand, was glad about him, since it allowed you to get to know the real Henry – one without fame, fans and paparazzi. It was rare to meet people who truly liked him for who he was, not only his name or the roles he played.

For the first time in your life, you felt like you could trust him and open up, share your pain and secret, and maybe even your heart one day. Henry listened to you talking about your family and past years, how you had moved to this city to attend the university and get your dream degree. He had even laughed when you had shared an embarrassing story from your teenage years.

“Well…. Now it is funny, but then I was terrified. The dog came out of nowhere and tried to attack me!” You were moving your hands around in the air and explaining the situation. “I am not afraid of dogs, but he… I have never walked on that street again.”

“You know, I have a dog.” He said, through the laughs. “His name is Kal, and I can assure you – he is very friendly and does not tend to scare people.”

You gave Henry a small smile and looked up. After Henry calmed down, you turned at him and asked him the question that was roaming through your brain from the moment you met. “What are you doing out here on Christmas eve?”

“I was leaving a party that my friends took me to.”

“Wasn’t it too early to leave it?”

He shook his head and looked at you. “It was not my type of party. Naked girls, too much alcohol and marihuana – very not my style. They did not see me leaving even, as they were too busy trying to get drunk and laid… If I would have not left, I would not have met you.” Henry smiled and touched your cheek with his gloved hand.

You returned the smile and moved your face closer to his. “I am glad that you left.”

“And why were you here tonight, [Y/N]?” Henry asked, his lips barely touching yours.

“I… do not want to talk about it.” Although you felt safe with Henry and you could trust him, you were not ready to talk about your father. Growing up, you had blamed yourself for his leaving. You grew up with guilt that he had walked out because of you because you were born.

After your father left, your mother never fell in love again. She tried dating a few times. You remember some of her dates and a few boyfriends, but none of them lasted. Your mother always had to make the choice, and she chose you. Seeing her give up her life, also made you feel guilty. As much as she tried reassuring you that it was not your fault, none of it, you never truly believed her.

“I am sorry if I – “

“No, no, no!” It took you one second to stand up and be in front of him. You took Henry’s hands in yours and squeezed them, making him look up at you. “You have nothing to be sorry for… The truth is that I am no longer celebrating Christmas Eve, and I have a reason … that I do not want to talk about. It is too painful for me.”

You tried to blink the tears, but he saw them and stood up, taking your face in his big arms. Without saying another word, Henry pressed a kiss on your forehead and took your body in his arms. You put your face against his chest and let the tears fall, while Henry whispered words of comfort in your ear and held you.

It took you some time to calm down, but when you eventually did you were relieved that Henry had held you and had not left your side. “Thank you, Henry.”

“There is nothing to be sorry about.”

Suddenly his phone started to ring and he cursed under his breath, while you tried hiding your smile. When Henry saw who was calling, he groaned and answered the call, yet did not let you go.

“Where the hell are you?” A voice on the other side shouted. There was loud music in his background, and people were cheering. You did not need to guess hard who had called him. “The fun is going to start every minute now, and I cannot find you anywhere! ”

“I am not there anymore, Jon. I left the party a while ago.”

“What? When?”

“When your face was too deep in someone’s cleavage.” Henry rolled his eyes and looked down at you.

“Man, you don’t know what you are missing!” A crowd in Jon’s background started to count backward from ten. “Alright, it’s your decision. See you later!” Without saying anything more, Jon finished the call.

“You have an interesting friend.”

“Jon is very special, but let's not talk about him.” Henry looked at his wristwatch and signed. “It is almost midnight. We should get going.”

“I live a few blocks from here.”

“I am going to accompany you home.” You nodded and tried to suppress the small smile on your lips. At least you got some more time with Henry because you did now know when or if you would see him again.

Side by side you made your way home. The walk was only a few minutes long, and you tried your best to slow it down. You had enjoyed being in his company, talking and getting to know him better. For the first time since your father left, someone had made you forget about your pain and truly enjoy Christmas eve.

Thoughts about not seeing Henry again made your stomach twist. You did not want to let him go. Henry had enjoyed the evening too, had said that a few times, and the kiss you shared… but was it enough for him to stay and meet you for one more time?

As you saw your apartment complex come into your sign, the uncomfortable feeling grew stronger in your stomach.

All the good things come to end one day… A small voice inside you said.

Make him stay… Said another one.

Do not let him walk away…

“[Y/N]?” Henry looked at you with concern in his eyes. You had stopped walking a few steps from the main entrance and got lost in your thoughts. He took a few steps back and came to stand in front of you. “Are you alright?”

You took a deep breath and took a step closer, making your chests meet. Without breaking eye contact and forgetting about the shivers in your stomach, you whispered the only word you could think of. “Stay… Stay with me…”

Without saying anything, he took your face in his arms and kissed for the second time this evening. There was no need for words because the kiss itself said it all. Henry wanted to stay.

You barely made it through the door. As soon as they were closed, your back hit the hard surface and Henry attacked your body. His lips were on yours, and his hands were taking off your winter coat. Soon enough his fell on the ground next to yours, yet the attack did not stop. His lips had moved to your neck, sucking and licking the skin and making you crazy.

You wanted more of him, more of his body and his everything. You wanted to feel his large and soft hands on your naked body, caressing every inch of it and whispering sweet things into your ears. You wanted to be one with him.

Clothes one after one left your bodies between passionate kisses.

“Jump,” Henry whispered in your ear. He put his hands under your bare ass, and you did what he said. Your bare legs wrapped around his middle, and you moaned feeling his hard member under you. “Where is the bedroom?”

“At the end of the hallway.” Henry turned around and carried you to the bedroom, at the same time lightly biting your neck. He tried to open the door with his shoulders, but it did not move. He tried a few times and groaned, while you let out a small laugh and kissed his neck. “Hm?”

“If I had known this would happen, I would have oiled it.”

“This is not the first time it is stuck?”

You shook your head. “Old house, old doors. This happens often, I mean the door getting stuck.”

Henry tried pushing the door one more time, and this time it opened. Not wasting more time, he laid you down on the bed and climbed onto you. Shivers went through your body, as the duvet under you was cold, but the heat from Henry’s body soon made you warm enough. His hands roamed over your body, as his lips devoured your mouth, setting every cell in your body on fire.

You shouted when he took your left nipple in his mouth and bite it. “Oh, Henry…”

He chuckled against your breasts, yet continued sucking and biting onto your sensitive bud, leaving you moaning under him, and it was only a start. When he was finished, his mouth moved to the right nipple, but his hand traveled lower and cupped your wet center.

Your back arched and you pulled his curly hair, as Henry started to play with your clitoris. You were already wet for him and ready to be taken. From the moment both of you had stepped over the threshold of your flat, your body was on fire, and the flames grew only stronger.

With his skilled fingers and excellent mouth, it did not take a long time for you to come. With Henry’s mouth on your labia and your hands in his hair, you shouted his name over and over, not caring about your neighbors.

“You are a piece of art, [Y/N].” Henry had rested his arms on both sides of your head and was looking at your naked body. There was a fire in his eyes, they were shining as he was looking at you, taking you all in and making a memory of it. You caressed his lips with your own, tasting your juices, and could not stop believing that this was real, yet there was something that you had to tell him.

“I have never done this before, I have never been with a man…” Before, in the moment of passion, you had not thought about stopping. For the first time, you were ready to give yourself to a man, specifically, to him, because no other man or moment had felt right. When you met Henry, something inside you turned, making you feel things you had never felt before and do things you were scared to do before – kissing a stranger in an empty park, allowing him to accompany you home and wanting to have sex with him.

Something changed in his eyes, but before you could say anything or apologize for having started this, Henry kissed you.

“You are a true miracle, [Y/N]…” He touched your cheek, before interlocking your fingers together and putting them above your head. “Let me show you the paradise.”

Without breaking the eye contact, Henry thrusted inside you. He stretched you, making you cry from the pain, but he silenced you with his kisses. When a tear fell from your eye, he kissed it away and covered your face with small kisses, making the pain go away. Soon enough you were lost in his thrusts, the pain changed into pleasure and you fell the paradise…

You woke alone in your bed. The side where Henry had slept, was cold, there was no sound coming from the bathroom or any room. The bedroom door was ajar, and you were able to see a part of the living room and hallway. There was no sign of Henry, and you tried your best of holding back tears.

Henry was gone. He had left while you were sleeping, exhausted from the endless rounds of having sex. You remembered falling asleep on his chest, him massaging your sore muscles and holding you close. You had given all of yourself to him, but he had left without a goodbye.

Tears were falling from your eyes and soon you started to sob. Your heart was breaking, because you had fallen in love with a man on Christmas eve, and now he was gone. You lied down back on the bed, put a duvet under your jaw and wrapped your arms around the pillow where Henry had slept. It still smelled like him.

You were too deep into your thought and tears that you did not hear the front door opening and closing. Not a long time later, you felt the bed beside you dipping and before you could open your eyes or wipe your tears away, a hand touched your wet cheek.

“Is everything alright?” Henry asked you, and you opened your eyes. He was sitting next to you in dark blue jeans and a white jumper that he was not wearing yesterday and with a worried look in his eyes.

You sat up and clutched the duvet to your chest. “I thought that you left.”

“I did. I had to change and get something from my house.” He said. “I hope you do not mind that used your key. I did not want to wake you up, and I hoped that you would still be sleeping when I returned. Why were you crying, [Y/N]?”

You turned your face away from him and wiped your wet cheeks. “It does not matter.”

He put a finger under your chin and turned your head, so you could look into your eyes. “It does to me. Were you crying because you thought I had left?”

“Maybe.”

“[Y/N], I would never leave you. I… I cannot leave you.” He looked at your lips and then back at your eyes. “Because last night I fell in love with you, and thoughts about – “

You did not give him a chance to reply before you collided with his body and pressed your lips to his. You wrapped your arms around Henry’s large shoulders and brought his body closer to yours. Hearing him say these words, knowing that he loves you was everything.

“I love you too, Henry.” You put your forehead against his, and you both shared a laugh. “And I really thought that you left me without even a goodbye.”

“I figured it out, but I am not going anywhere.”

“Neither am I.”

Henry nodded and gave you a short kiss. “There is someone I want you to meet. KAL!”

A four-legged bear ran into the room in less than five seconds and stopped in front of you. “This is Kal.”

“Hello, Kal.” You swiped your hand through his thick fur. “I take that he is that something you had to get from your house.”

”Yeah. Could not leave him there all alone while I am with you.”

You put your head on Henry’s shoulder, and he wrapped a hand around your shoulders, bringing you closer to him.

“Henry…” You touched his face after some time and kissed him softly on the lips. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For making me believe in miracles again.”

To be continued...

[rhinestonerainbow]

Wait? What? Me? With more Murdoc Family headcanons?

Yes

Also just a small disclaimer, I've only been into Gorillaz for a good two months now, so if you read anything and go "Hey!Wait! This is canon" please don't be afraid to tell me as long as you stay polite. There's a lot of stuff and I'm learning more somehow every day

With that out the way:

•I personally headcanon that Hannibal was 5 years older than Murdoc. So when Murdoc was 10, he was already 15.

•Hannibal was a very moody teenager who stayed away from home as often as he physically could. He stayed with a couple of kids he knew from the street, they often spend the night in ruins or houses that just weren't occupied at the moment. They were told off more than once, but with those kids, Hannibal also committed smaller crimes. You know stealing, breaking Car Windows, etc

•Murdoc looked up to his older brother and it's canon that Hannibal got Murdoc into some of his music, so they definitely listened to that together. Sometimes, Murdoc was even allowed into his older brothers room. But when it came to their dad, Hannibal had a very clear opinion.

•It basically went like "Murdoc, it's survival of the fittest. You either learn to fight back against dad, or you endure it until you can leave this hellhouse. Don't you think I also suffer? Why do you think I'm barely in this house?"

•But I know that Hannibal knew that it wasn't easy to fight against their father so he sheltered Murdoc every once in a while while simultaneously also trying to teach him self defense. I don't think Hannibal knew all about the extent, he knew his brother was beaten up and stuff, because he had gone through the same, but... the darker stuff (I'm looking at the diner lady) was probably beyond his knowledge. And for good reason too.

•Let me just say this: I think Murdoc was a very artsy child growing up. And by that I mean, he did like stuff like painting, making music, expressing himself. And he probably wouldn't have had the biggest problem with those talent competition's if it wouldn't have been for his dad forcing him to attend them in a ridiculous manner.

•He definitely doesn't feel good enough. Because he was never given the feeling from his family of being good enough. He has Gorillaz, and money, and fame, but I know he still hates himself. I know Murdoc still think he isn't good enough, has achieved nothing, is pathetic basically. If this man doesn't have depression then I-

•When Hannibal moved out of the house with 20, Murdoc was a teenager himself so he didn't feel quite as helpless anymore, but a big support in a way was still gone for him. He got into drinking, and he did fight back against his father once or twice, which usually ended in only more bloody injuries so he gave it up altogether and just went for the "Endure it until you've moved out" way.

•Yeah and then he became criminal as well, his brother wandered into Jail so their contact pretty much died, he ran over 2-D with his car and the cycle... pretty much repeated.

•Deep inside Murdoc knows that the way he treated 2-D especially during the beginning was very reminiscent of his father's behaviour towards himself, but does he want to admit it? Not really. Because admitting that he kinda grew into his father would probably break him down.

•But when he took care of little Noodle and realised that she was loving him and he didn't hurt her in the slightest he did, in a way, find peace. I'd still recommend trauma therapy though :)

[macknnons]

happiness, briss/bords

married agents universe.

“Fun fact: over the last couple of months, every time a friend of mine or a member of my family would ask me how the writing of my vows was going, they would look at me very warily after I answered that everything was going according to plan. Like no one would want to trust me with this, I really don’t understand why.”

The joke causes laughs to rise inside the room and Brendan takes a moment to survey the faces of the people he loves. His dad is looking very serious and his mom has her eyes bright, hands clutching her purse on her lap. Brendan doesn’t wink to them but he does smile extra hard before continuing.

“And I know no one worried about Thom because Thom is the one good with words in this relationship. It’s something that I won’t ever dispute but is still very funny to me because he could barely string together 5 words of English when we first met. Granted, he wasn’t even a teenager and my French was even worse but I won’t forget. I’m pretty sure I already found his accent cute back then, so.”

Another laugh among the audience, softer this time, accompanied by a choral of aws. Thom’s shaking his head slowly, smile too high on his cheeks. Brendan squeezes their hands where their fingers are laced together in between them. He then takes a deep breath, wills his brain to focus on the remainder of his speech.

“Anyway, back to the true matter at hand here. Truth be told, I initially wasn’t sure which direction to go with. I googled the Top 10 pieces of advice on how to write the perfect wedding vows but I think the only good thing I got from the internet was Trust yourself with your words. I know people love to talk about first times; first time they met their loved one, first kiss, the moment they realized they were in love. I barely remember the first time I met Thom because we were still kids. Our first kiss was messy and I can’t pinpoint the exact moment I knew I was in love with him because do you really expect dumb 20 years old hockey players to understand anything about feelings? Yeah, I know. But even though it may sound like I’m painting a terrible picture out here, I swear I wouldn’t have it any other way because we made it work our way, which made it just perfect. It’s never been easy because I’m probably the last guy someone would pick to have a long-distance relationship with but we figured it out, downloaded the apps, set the Skype dates and the calls and the stupid postcards now hanging on our fridge or in our offices. There were a lot of misses and fights and sad parts but I never doubted we would make it. I loved him way too hard for this to fail. And I’m pretty sure the feeling was mutual.”

It’s Thom’s turn to clamp down on his palms, hard. The light from above is making his eyes shine and Thom said he would kill Brendan if he made him cry at the altar but it’s not Brendan’s fault if Thom is a sentimental guy and he’s sure he can find a more fitting and agreeable punishment if he does break the promise that he didn’t really make (sorry babe, I know you, can’t bet against myself there).

“We could have gotten married so much sooner. The fact that I played in Las Vegas for several years and never got Elvis to tie us together is an honest miracle that my Dad probably prayed for every single day I was living there.”

This time, Brendan can identify Matty’s big booming laugh and he allows himself a glance at the UMich section of the room. Owen towering over everyone even while seated, Kent tucked by his side, Trusc with the biggest smile, everyone else looking so happy to be here.

Thom’s thumb rubs over his knuckles and Brendan can feel his heart beating really hard behind his ribcage. Maybe just maybe Brendan is starting to feel emotional too.

“It took the end of our careers to finally be able to settle together in the same city and working with Thom over the last two years is the best thing I could have asked for in my retirement. We never needed rings for Thom to call me his and vice-versa but considering he’s been the main reason for my happiness over the last two decades, I truly can’t wait to be able to call him my husband.”

send me a word + a pairing and I'll write a little something.

[just-a-really-tall-girl-tbh]

Grounded

Summary: Y/n is kidnapped and forced to reveal secrets of the pack

Pairing: Derek X Reader

Warnings: Blood, torture, swearing

Word count: 2605

Original piece please don’t copy

The school bell rang for the final time that day, a collective sigh of gratitude echoed in the room, the teenagers grateful to be released from the maths teacher’s class. Gathering your books, you stacked them in a neat pile before exiting the room, offering a small smile to your defeated teacher. It wasn’t her fault maths sucked and no one enjoyed it, you did feel bad for her on some level but also who the hell would willingly dedicate their life to teaching numbers?

Entering the hallway, you made your way through the sea of teenagers, everyone desperate to go home for the weekend. Reaching your locker, you grabbed the couple books you needed, shoving them into your backpack, thinking about the homework you had due on Monday you sighed. The door to your locker slammed shut before you could close it.

“Hey, you ready?” Stiles smiled.

“I told you I can walk home.” You rolled your eyes, walking away from the boy. Surprised by your quick movement, Stiles jogged to catch up to you, throwing an arm lazily around your shoulders.

“I know you can walk home but why would you when you have me?”

Exiting the main doors of the high school, you welcomed the fresh warm air, the smell of angsty teens left behind you. Reaching the end of the pavement, you saw the jeep parked a few cars away.

“Stiles I want to walk.” You turned to face the boy.

“Y/n, you heard what Derek said okay? All these recent attacks? The break ins and thefts? He doesn’t want you alone.” Stiles tried to reason with you. Knowing the recent spike in criminal activity was less than likely to involve the supernatural, you felt safe walking the 20-minute trip home. In fact, you enjoyed the peace it brought you. Half of the walk was through the woods, a quiet haven from the busy high school, and being autumn, you relished in the yellow and orange leaves that swept through the small woodlands.

“Stiles. It’s 20 minutes. I’ll text you when I get home okay?” Stiles sighed.

“You know Derek is going to kill me if I let you, you know, that right? You like the idea of alive Stiles because I do! And I am not letting you be the reason I don’t make it to my 20’s okay?”

“Derek doesn’t have the balls to kill you.” You turned on the heel of your foot, headed towards the woods, leaving a defeated Stiles in your wake.

“I’m telling Derek you said he has no balls!” He called after you. You let out a small laugh, grabbing your headphones from your backpack, and your phone from your pocket, you scrolled through your playlist, deciding today was the perfect day for (Your current favourite song).

Entering the woods, you felt a rush of calm wash over you, the stressful week was pushed to the back of your mind, your thoughts centred on the surrounding woods. You stepped over exposed roots and around large bushes, glancing up at the sky you watched as the wind swept through the foliage, the ageing leaves dancing in the light breeze. The sun peaked through the cracks, determined to reach the forest floor, providing the perfect amount of light for your stroll. The floor of the woods had been coated in fallen leaves, leaving a blanket of red and orange below your feet. Taking a moment to stop and appreciate the tranquillity the forest provided you, you felt your phone buzz in you pocket.

Home yet? I’m this close to sending out a search party!

Rolling your eyes and shaking your head you began typing a response.

You need to…

Before you could finish you felt a knock to your head, your vision distorted, the soft sound of music playing through your headphones which were now next to you on the forest floor, was the only thing you could hear before everything went black.

***

Another blow straight to your stomach knocked the wind out of you. Coughing and spluttering you attempted to regain your breath, each inspiration hurting more than the last.

“Oh, you are so going to regret that.” You mumbled.

Leaning to the side of the chair you spat a mixture of saliva and blood to the ground, you couldn’t tell where the source of the blood was coming from, maybe your lip, or maybe the inside of your mouth. Too many lacerations to your face meant it all blended into one.

You raised your eyes to meet your rival, struggling to see through the blood you saw one man wiping his fists on an old rag, your blood coating his knuckles. He faced a woman to your left, who sat with one bent knee up on a bench. Her back leaning against the wall adjacent to you, a smug grin on her face.

You rotated your wrists which were bound behind you, the thick rope digging into your skin. Your ankles were bound too, tied to the legs of the wooden chair you sat on.

“You’re going to tell us what we want sweetie, its just a matter of how beat up that pretty face is going to be before you tell us.” The woman commented, as she played with her fingernails, pushing the cuticles back. If she was trying to look disinterested, she was doing a great job. But you were ready for this. You trained for this. You knew what was coming, and if it meant keeping your friends, the pack, safe, then you would gladly take whatever they threw at you.

The mans fist connected with your jaw once more, snapping you out of your daze. The room began to spin around you, and your vision blurred. Trying to recenter yourself you pulled at your wrists, the pain of the rope grinding into your skin giving you something to focus on.

“Alright careful there, big guy, we need her conscious if we’re going to get that information.” The woman stood from her seat, striding slowly over to you, before bending at the waist in front of you. She reached out to grab your face, but as soon as her fingers made contact with your skin you pulled away. A stern look, on your face made the woman let out a small laugh.

“You’re a tough one aren’t you.” She turned her head, almost admiring your battered body before her. “Too bad that doesn’t mean shit around here.” Grabbing your hair, she yanked your head back, exposing your neck to the room. Moving to stand behind you she held out her other hand, gesturing towards the man in front of you. Without a word exchanged, the man grabbed a knife from a nearby table, its blade glinting in the moonlight the small window above you allowed.

“Sweetheart, you have no idea who you are dealing with do you?” The woman whispered in your ear, her grip on your hair only tightening as she neared the knife to your throat. You felt the cold edge, lightly cross your neck, not enough to pierce the skin, but enough for you to avoid swallowing.

Taking a deep breath in you closed your eyes. Grounding yourself was apart of your training, something that was drilled into you from the beginning. Breathing in again, you picked up on the different smells the room produced, sweat from the man in front of you, poorly masked by his cheap cologne. The sweet smell of the woman’s hair from behind, her locks dangling beside your face. The overwhelming metallic smell of blood being the most potent. You changed your focus to your heartbeat. Feeling it pounding against your chest begging to be released you pictured your heart slowing, its contractions reducing with every breath you took. Steadying your breathing was next. Cautious of the blade still connected to your neck you breathed in through your nose, holding in for a few seconds before releasing softly through your mouth. Repeating those steps, you were able to regain some stability. You were still in the same crappy scenario but at least now you were calmer. A panicking person is an interrogators wet dream. A calm person, their nightmare.

Sensing your self-control increase, the woman let go of your hair, moving the knife from your neck to the table beside the man. Standing before you once more, she knelt in front of you, keeping one knee up for balance, she waited for your eyes to open once more. Regaining the control, you almost lost, you felt strong enough to open your eyes once more. Staring at you the woman barely moved, she was searching your eyes for something, her expression a mixture of shock and impressed.

“You’re not afraid.” Her words barely above a whisper. Your only response was a return glare. A small smile creeping on to the face of your kidnapper. “They trained you well.”

Standing, she turned to the man behind her, whispering something in his ear before turning back to face you, her arms crossed against her chest. The man dropped the rag he was still holding and left the room, the sound of the door locking behind him.

“Let’s cut the bullshit honey. You have information I need. And I know I’m not going to break you, not by torturing you anyways. So, let’s try something else, shall we?” The woman began to pace back and forth in front of you, the small room only allowing her a few steps before being forced to turn around again. Your eyes followed her, left and right, before she stopped in front of you once more, still facing forward.

Taking in a sharp breath, she spoke. “How’s your sister doing?” She turned to face you. Refusing to let her know she was finally making some progress with you, you remained staring at her. Resuming her pacing she continued speaking.

“She’s what 5 now? Gosh so young. But you know what they say right? They grow up so fast.” Your eyes tracked the woman, more intently than before. This woman knew your family. Something that was always off limits when the pack was involved. Your attempts at shielding them from the supernatural had been successful, keeping that part of your life private even from Derek. And here this woman stood, threatening them. Threating to take away your motivation to make the world safer. Unfazed by your lack of reaction the woman carried on.

“Soon enough she’ll be going to high school, making friends, maybe even realising who her sister really is.” She stopped before you once more, bending at the waist she placed her hands on the arms of the chair you were bound to. “You didn’t think you could protect them, forever did you?” Tears threatened to fall from your eyes. No amount of calm breathing could ground you now. “Aw babe.” Her hand raised to your cheek, ready to wipe away the falling tear. You only pulled away from her once more, hating the way her skin on yours felt. “Don’t tell me I hit a nerve, did I? Sucks doesn’t it. Well, there is one way of ensuring your little family stay naïve to the world around them.” She stood tall once more, her voice now deeper, more sinister than before. “Tell me what I want to know.”

You had no choice, right? She threatened your family, your sister. You protected them from so long, only for you to be the reason they are in danger. Looking down at your lap, tears hit your thighs unable to control them you simply let them fall. Taking a deep breath, you looked up at the woman before you, a smirk present on her face which made it so much harder to say what you were about to. But the images of your sister raced through your mind. The way her hair shone in the autumn sun, the way her smile reached her eyes when she was really, truly happy, the way she greeted you after school every day by running down the front path directly into your arms. That was the highlight of your day, finishing school and-

Wait

You never responded to Stiles.

You never texted him back, and the kidnappers were kind enough to bring your phone into the room with you – hoping to get some information.

Your eyes moved to the door behind the woman, a loud crash followed by a heavy grunt sounded from behind the entranceway. The woman whipped her head around, only to be met by silence. She slowly approached the doorway.

“Adrian…?”

Silence

The woman turned back to you, unsure of herself. You only had a small smirk as a response. Before she could question you, the door busted open, barely remaining on its hinges, a rush of dust filled the room. Watching ahead as the dust clouds engulfed the woman, you heard a deafening roar followed by a petrified scream. Small thuds followed, as the dust reached your eyes you began coughing, the sudden pain in your ribs swiftly returning.

Two hands were placed on your shoulders, looking up you were met by two green eyes.

“Hey, you okay?” A worried Derek scanned your face, concern riddled him as he saw the multiple cuts and bruising before him. You could only nod, the dust denying you the ability to speak.

Moving behind you, he effortlessly cut the ties that bound your hands, then your legs. Using the arms of the chair to stable yourself, you attempted to stand, wincing when the pain became too much. Derek moved to your side, wrapping your arm over his shoulder. Carefully placing his arm around you, resting his hand on your hip he accepted most of your weight, attempting to make standing and walking easier. As you took a few steps forward, the dust cleared from your eyes and you were able to regain focus. Looking forward you saw the woman who threatened you, her back against the same wall the door was, her skin now covered in blood, her chest still rising and falling rapidly. Scott stood before her, looking down at the defeated woman, his eyes still red and his claws still present.

Clearing your throat, you stopped walking, causing Derek to pause and look over to you. You peered down at the woman, no longer in a position of power, she looked smaller, more gaunt than before. Her eyes showed she was petrified, providing some comfort to you after what she did.

“Sucks doesn’t it?” a whisper of a smirk present on your lips.

Proceeding to step forward through the doorway you were met by a panting Stiles, his arms stretched out in front of him, you couldn’t tell him to stop before his body connected with yours. You inhaled sharply, grimacing as pain rang throughout your body.

Derek used his free hand to grab Stiles by the shoulder, pulling him away from you, a small growl forming in his chest.

“Oh, shit sorry of course you’re hurt shit sorry.” The boy stumbled over his words, his eyes finally taking in the battered sight before him. He moved to the side of you not occupied by Derek, his help was welcomed by you, suddenly feeling lightheaded from standing.

The three of you began walking forward towards the exit of the building.

“Is now a good time to tell Derek, you think he has no balls?” Stiles piped up earning a death glare from Derek. “No? Okay we can come back to that.” You used whatever energy you had left to shake your head.

[batfamtv]

me after writing smut: is this who i am? is this who i represent? lmao i've never written smut until trese, i guess the thirst was too much, let me know how y'all like it! thank you so much for all your support, ily <3

(ﾉ´ з `)ノ

kambal x reader; established relationship

gif by @rasputinaillyanna (see their original gifsets here!)

sfw

the three idiots

seriously, alexandra feels like she keeps aging 20+ years whenever you three are together and goofing around

this is one of the reasons why you’re not allowed on the field with them, they’d get absolutely nothing done

that, and the twins simply wont put you in danger under any circumstances

alexandra also treats you like a sister (in law) and wants you safe, but can only do so much to keep you out of their lives since you still find ways to help them out

absolutely rowdy when you’re with basilio, you and him practically have a lot of inside jokes and a secret language

people would give you both weird looks when you’re out in public, just because you’re both so damn loud

with crispin you’re more mature (but not a lot), he does these grand gestures like taking you out on expensive dates, takes instagram/pinterest style pics of you

basilio also takes pics of you, but those are some of the most unflattering ones that he sends to your groupchat as memes

the ppl who arent familiar with your relationship with the twins are almost often confused when they see you with just the one twin: they’d think “huh i saw this couple a week ago, but i could have sworn the boyfriend had much shorter hair, it couldn’t have grown that long in a week, right?”

when you do go out with the twins, they flank you and you almost get squished in between them, so sometimes you have to push them both to the sides so that you would have space to move around

the three of you like to just chill at the mall sometimes, go window shopping and then eat samgyup/mang inasal later on

other times when you manage to drag alexandra with you, people would assume that you guys are on a double date, and alexandra has the ugliest/most disgusted look on her face as she corrects them “these are my brothers” “im gay”

in your groupchat (just you and the twins) crispin is the sweet, doting one who would text you “have you eaten?” “want us to pick something up for you on the way home?” while basilio sends you memes and selfies of the twins

they send you videos and pics of pets they meet “today we met brownie and blackie”

with regards to living arrangements, the twins have separate rooms (basilio’s is the messy one, smells weird)

when you moved in, alexandra offered you your own room, and most of the time that’s where the boys stay anyway

the bed is much larger than theirs because it needs to accommodate all three of you

you three try to cook meals for ate alexandra, but it almost always turns out disastrous - mostly when basilio insists on helping

so you always make him run errands (“can you go pick up some more garlic and magic sarap”) while you and crispin man the stoves

you braid basilio’s hair while crispin tunes his guitar!!

and you spend a couple of hours listening to crispin play the guitar, basilio’s head now resting on your lap

crispin’s movie taste are like *film* and *poetic cinema* while basilio might enjoy movies that are so bad they’re good, but you three are all suckers for superhero ensemble movies and horror movies

the boys become really annoying when watching filipino horror movies because they like to point out mistakes in the film “aswangs dont do that” “why would you go there all alone are you stupid???”

“please boys i just wanna watch the movie”

a huge cuddle pile

both boys run hot, so during cold nights (that never happen, bc you live in the philippines) you’re all warm and toasty between them

both light sleepers! they were pretty heavy sleepers when they were kids/teenagers, but the occupational hazard of their jobs require them to be ready at a moment’s notice

they still, however, snore quite loudly

crispin doesn’t ever tend to move positions when sleeping, he wakes up in the same position he fell asleep in

basilio rotates around the bed like hands of a clock

most often falls off the bed, but clumsily climbs back up and cuddles you

really really simpy when it comes to you, though most of the time it’s just you three sharing one brain cell (it’s with you, mostly), they can be quite romantic and cheesy if they want to

crispin probably has his brother as just “Basilio” on his phone, and “Y/N ❤️" for you

basilio has “my love ❤️😍😘💘 ” for you and crispin’s number isn’t even registered lol

nsfw under the cut

nsfw

threesome? threesome

boys barely do anything separately and usually just have a Single Thought in both their heads, so if one is horny, the other one is 69% (lol) horny as well

you realize that crispin doesn’t like to be teased at work, but basilio enjoys it so much

you find this out when you’re alone and horny, so you send a pic of you touching yourself to the boys in your groupchat

crispin sees it first, but doesn’t say anything?? he honest to god just left you on read

meanwhile basilio also sees your pic not too long after and you quickly get a “what the fuck” as a reply from him

like 10 mins later he sends you a pic of him in what looks like a washroom and his cock is straining in his pants

he texts you “had to find a washroom so fucking fast so that ate alex and the police captain doesn’t see me so fucking hard in my pants” and “wanna eat you pussy babe”

crispin does text you when the three are on their way home, not mentioning the picture you sent “we’re on our way home”

and at first you thought he is mad at you bc he didn’t bring the nude up?? does he not want you anymore :(

but the moment they arrive crispin all but sprints to your shared bedroom and sees you there, in your underwear

holds your cheeks in one hand, “what the fuck was that baby, hmm? what did you send us?”

you try to ask if he’s mad bc you sent him a nude, ask him if there’s anything wrong, but he just lets your face go as he takes his suit off, basilio finds his way to your room, locks it, and gives you a kiss

basilio whispers “missed you baby” against your mouth before moving away to undress

crispin, now fully naked in front of you, makes you suck his cock, which is hard and twitching, its tip leaking with precum, he makes you place both his hands on your head, “do you know how surprised i was when i saw a text from you and it’s a picture of you touching your cunt? hmm?” he sighs as he sees you looking up at him, eyes watering as you struggle to take all of his cock down your throat “i had to stop myself from getting hard in front of everyone, baby, basilio couldn’t even do that”

basilio huffs but the boys reposition you so you’re in bed and on your back, crispin kneeling to your side, his cock still throbbing in your mouth, basilio positions himself between your thighs, moaning when he sees how wet you are

basilio removes your panties before rushing to sniff your cunt, groaning in delight--you’re sure his eyes roll to the back of his head before he dives into your cunt

you moan into crispin’s cock and he grunts, shoving more of his cock into your mouth, now moving faster, “i really wanna cum down your throat baby, would you let me?”

you nod and he pushes his cock all the way into your mouth, your nose practically touching his groin and pubes

you gag, for a moment panicked as you try to breathe in, while crispin just eyes you, his cock growing ever harder when he looks at your face wet with tears and drool, he grabs your hair, softly at first, to make sure you’re okay, and when you nod crispin groans as he sets up his pace, groaning as he feels his orgasm building

basilio, meanwhile, is licking and sucking your clit with three fingers knuckles deep in your cunt, and when he starts to feel you spasming, a telltale sign that your orgasm is approaching, he pulls his mouth and fingers out and quickly replacing them with his fat cock

immediately, you and basilio both groan, your eyes roll to the back of your head as you feel yourself so full of cock

basilio curses under his breath before taking your legs and resting them against his shoulders “fuck, y/n, im sorry i’m not gonna last long” “your pussy got me so fucking hard you tasted so good baby, you know how much i love your little pussy, right?”

crispin groans at this before he pulls his cock out of your mouth, leaning down to kiss you, he then moves down your neck and your tits, making sure he marks your chest

basilio whimpers and thrusts three more times before releasing a long groan, his cum exploding deep in your pussy “fuck baby you feel so good” he manages to pull out and you see his cock wet with his cum and your juices before settling beside you, panting harshly

you barely had the type to recuperate before crispin flips you on your stomach, making sure your face is resting on the pillows before he thrusts into you with a grunt

“fuck, still a tight little pussy after basilio rammed your cunt, huh?”

your eyes rolling, you couldnt do much other than hold onto the sheets and basilio’s hand, moaning loudly when you feel crispin’s fingers on your clit

“can you take one more, y/n? can your pussy take one more load?”

speechless, you nod, trying to grind your ass against crispin’s hips, but his hands on your hips hold you firm

he grunts approvingly, “good baby, take it deep in your pussy okay? and cum on my cock, baby, i wanna feel it”

you cum on his cock, almost violently, and twins groan at the sound of your moaning, and the sight of you spasming and shaking on crispin’s cock

a couple of deep thrusts later, crispin also cums deep into your pussy, his cum now mixed with basilio’s

crispin moves to get a washcloth to clean the three of you up, before all three of you collapse in bed, huddled together, basilio with his arms wrapped from behind--already falling asleep, you rest your head against crispin’s arm

“so, no more nudes when you’re at work?”

crispin laughs softly before pressing a kiss on your forehead, “unless your cunt is ready to take two cocks at once, no nudes when we’re at work”

[charlie-rulerofhell]

For they know exactly what they do

Today there was a pretty long article published in the German newspaper FAZ, written by Julia Schaaf. Since there were quite a few interesting topics raised in it and Måneskin talked about some new aspects (or in more detail), I translated the whole thing (it might also have helped me to procrastinate).

Full interview in English under the cut.

For they know exactly what they do

June 22, 2021

Four young rock musicians from Rome are today's hottest band. Måneskin are enchanting Europe. Why? We met them for an interview.

Every romance needs its founding myth, an anecdote from the beginning, something you can tell later in more difficult times for self-assurance.

In the case of the band Måneskin, who first had Italy and now half of Europe wrapped around their fingers, and who are now trying to conquer the rest of the world with their rock music, there is the story of the shoe box. Rome, around five years ago: Four teenagers who are meeting every day after school in their rehearsal room to make music together, and sometimes they play their songs on the Via del Corso in the city centre in front of a changing audience. One day they want to record their own stuff. They find a studio that they can actually afford and as they go there they bring a shoe box, with the name of the band written on it, 'moonshine' in Danish, the bassist's mother is Danish. In the box: around seven kilogram of coins. The things you get from playing music on the streets. Everyone searching through Instagram for photos from that time can find four hippies with children's faces, three boys in batik, the girl is wearing a straw hat.

As they have to pay [for the recording], frontman Damiano David, 22, says that there was this guy, Angelo, and his bandmate Victoria De Angelis, 21, is interrupting: “No, Andrea, not Angelo”, and all of them have to laugh because a rigid studio manager with the Italian name 'angel' would be even funnier for a founding myth. David continues his story: “The guy was completely dumbfounded. 'We can't do that.' We went: 'Sure we can, that's worth the same even if it's just 20 cent coins, it's still 300 euros.” Thomas Raggi, 20, the guitarist of the band, is gasping for air as he laughs, while drummer Ethan Torchio, 20, is smiling dreamily. David finishes: “And then we snuck off before he was able to count it.” [the German text says 'verdrücken' here which is just a colloquial way of saying 'we left', but it entails some sort of a dramatic exit, so yeah, let your thoughts get creative how they left exactly :D].

Four young musicians on the verge of global fame are sitting on a white interview sofa in Berlin, completely styled, babbling across each other like overeager teenagers.

Ever since the Roman band first won the music festival Sanremo and then also the Eurovision Song Contest, carried by the enthusiasm of European viewers, you could say Måneskin has become a phenomenon. “Rock 'n' Roll never dies!”, Damiano David yelled fueled by the adrenaline of winning, and the insinuation that circulated on social media of the singer snorting during the counting of votes in front of a live camera – including their strict denial followed by a negative drug test result – might have given an additional boost to their public interest, their exploding album, ticket and merch sales, and their outstanding success on Spotify.

“We think it's a shit prejudice against rock music that there always have to be drugs involved. We fully threw ourselves into our participation with the utmost professionalism. We give everything for the music. So of course we don't want people to think that we can only do that because we take drugs.” – Victoria De Angelis

Prior to Eurovision, Måneskin was more of an insider's tip outside of Italy. Handmade rock music, not creating something entirely new but paying homage to the good old times with classic guitar riffs and cracking drum beats, being a lot of fun but also quite fragile and vulnerable at times and, first and foremost, conveying a captivating energy. Finally, on the stage of Rotterdam, live after so many months of isolation and renunciation, this wave of energy spilled straight over into European living rooms. It seemed easy to (mistakenly) interpret the winning song “Zitti e buoni” (Shut up and behave) as a declaration of frustration of our youth in times of a pandemic. In fact, singer Damiano David is singing about the favourite topic of the band: the unrelenting need to, against all odds, be yourself, despite or perhaps because you are different. The message fits their provocative sex appeal, which the band uses to demonstrate their independence of gender norms at any given time. But the core essence of rock music has always been the promise of unlimited freedom.

Thus at the first moment, the meeting with Måneskin is kind of startling. It's Wednesday, we are in the top floor of the new Sony head quarters in Berlin. The four Italians have just started their two-week long promotion tour through Europe. In the afternoon there will be a live concert in a queer club [the SchwuZ, but that's not mentioned here] in Neukölln, which will be streamed via TikTok. Around one million viewers will watch the show, some of them even from Brazil, so people at Sony are pretty excited [for Måneskin to come here]. But at first, these stunningly gorgeous creatures [yes, that's the exact wording :D] are standing surrounded by an entourage of people – their management, PR team, a stylist, a photographer, people who can hold a smartphone or a cigarette if needed [this paragraph is worded a little weirdly, especially taking into account that basically their whole team / 'entourage' is just friends of them, but it seems like the journalist didn't know that or maybe they just wanted to describe their first impression]. They seem like fictional / artificial characters out of a Hollywood movie. Transparent frill blouses with blazers and flared leather trousers, even the platform boots, everything brand-new, the makeup makes their faces look like a glossy magazine cover even in person. The smokey eyes of De Angelis and Raggi make them look smug and bored. Later, on the pictures it will probably look cool.

So of course your first impression might be: This band is under contract to industry giant Sony ever since their success on an Italian casting show [X Factor] in Winter 2017. The music industry must have its hand in the game when a band is photographed half-naked by Oliviero Toscani and styled by Etro. Also, one does not simply rent a villa with a pool in Rome to produce new music there, isolated from the rest of the world. And who else went to London for two whole months, shortly before the winter lockdown, just for inspiration? After the TikTok concert in Berlin – De Angelis and David are now wearing fishnet shirts that sparkle with every move, their bare nipples covered with an X of black tape – the band is posing with a few influencers. In the world of social media you would call that 'producing content'. But what does that mean for a band who are preaching their hosanna of authenticity? How authentic is Måneskin? And is their pointedly casual approach to sexuality and gender cliches in today's pop-cultural spirit more than a marketing strategy?

We're in the interview, the recording device is running for not even five minutes, when Victoria De Angelis says: “Actually, we just try to be ourselves and do what we really want to do.” And really: The more you listen to those four how they speak about the early days of the band in their slurred Roman dialect, about the shoe box and their own experiences with being different, but most importantly about their shared obsession [with music], the more you realise that [De Angelis] is  very serious. Ethan Torchio, who got his first drum kit at the age of six or seven from his father because he was beating everything he could reach, says: “For me, music is like food. I cannot live without it.” The bassist next to him laughs at his pathos. Singer Damiano David applauds the otherwise more reserved friend for his truthfulness [it says 'klarer Punkt', meaning 'for the point he makes', but it makes it seem like Damiano is agreeing with Ethan here, although it doesn't indicate whether he agrees that yes, music is everything for Ethan or that he understands and feels the same].

De Angelis and guitarist Raggi already knew each other from middle school and they were the ones who tried to form a band at the age of only 13, a band that actually took music seriously.

De Angelis: “It's just difficult at that age to find other people who really put everything into music and who truly commit themselves and are willing to invest a lot of their time.”

Raggi: “We set strict rules and scheduled fixed times for the rehearsals, for every day.”

David: “Fever, stomach ache, there was no excuse. Even if you were feeling sick in the rehearsal room. At least you were in the rehearsal room.”

The way the four of them talk across each other, completing each other's sentences, taking turns in talking and sometimes joking about each other, seems intimate and playful. Singer David remembers how at first bassist [De Angelis] was merciless towards him when it came to her first metal band project, as she told him that he wasn't committed enough [to the music]: “Back then I was still playing Basketball. I was one of the people that Vic absolutely didn't want [in her band].” Drummer Torchio was later discovered through Facebook, even though there had already been a drummer, a close friend, but he was not good enough. It seems as if even back then music was everything for them. Even if it meant that only Raggi managed to graduate.

And why rock, why rock music of all things? Because it's great, the four of them say in unison. David adds: “Actually, it's a genre that allows you to do everything you want to do.”

When they played on the street, they were laughed at by their classmates. But not only there. De Angelis explains that she never wanted to be a typical girl: “I was always deterred by those stupid boxes that people put you in, and that are just restricting and constraining you, because something is only regarded as male or female. I always rejected that. Instead, I just wanted to do the things I enjoyed doing, I went skating and played football.” Torchio says: “Friends who are not friends anymore were already telling me at the age of ten that those“ – he grabs his long, silky black hair – “were wrong. Because I'm a boy and boys are meant to have short hair, long hair is only for girls. I was bullied a lot for that.”

“Compared to the past, people in our age became much more open-minded. It gets better.” – Thomas Raggi

Frontman David on the other hand, for whom eye shadow, jingling earrings and nail polish as well as his bare torso with the tattoos have become trademarks by now, says: “I was actually more of the average boy.” De Angelis convinced him to try out some eyeliner, which he describes as a spiritual awakening: “I liked myself much more [with makeup]. I saw myself more as myself. As if it had been a suppressed desire of mine.” On a trip to Copenhagen with the others, when he realised that it really didn't matter what people were thinking about him, he got his first fake fur [coat? the article doesn't specify that] in a second-hand shop and let his clothing style be guided by his own love to experiment: “I realised that my whole life I was just going at half speed.” When it comes to diversity all four of them are becoming almost missionary.

At the same time, their success is not only opening doors for them. Back home in Rome they are barely able to go out on the street due to all the paparazzi. “[You need a] hoodie and huge sunglasses”, David says, “the mask is quite helpful, too.” And still, none of them is complaining, and Torchio explains why: “Even if those experiences right now may have sides that are not so pleasant, we still know that for us a dream is coming true. We experience something that we always had in our minds, so we are willing to face every consequence that this entails.”

So is the band facing difficult times, is Måneskin going to change with all the success? Again, all of them answer at the same time.

David: “I'm not worried about that.”

Raggi: “No way!”

De Angelis: “On the contrary. Everything that happened to us happened because we are who we are, so we want to continue the exact same way and stay ourselves.”

Just a few hours later, they are at the stage in Neukölln, bouncing around like pinballs, hammering at their instruments, flirting with each other. “We are out of our minds, but different from the others”, David sings their winning hymn against conformism, and: “The people talk, unfortunately they talk.” Here on stage, the four paradise birds [a German word describing someone with a flamboyant personality] with their half-nude-glittering outfits are radiating an incredible energy with the utmost sincerity, and you begin to wish there was a live audience instead of the TikTok cameras, absorbing and spreading this energy. Måneskin. A cry for a life after the pandemic, a cry for freedom and a better world.

“We do what we wished for all our lives.” – Ethan Torchio

[jaskierswolf]

Alpaca Love

Chapter 6/20

Rating: E (In later chapters)

Pairing: Geraskier, background Yentriss

Summary: After one viral video and a bit of a mental breakdown, Jaskier finds himself living at a farmhouse in the countryside on a forced getaway from social media for two long months. He never expects to find love there, but these things have a habit of surprising even the best of us.

CWs: panic attacks (Chapter relevant), anxiety, smut, alcohol, (more may be added and check AO3 for details)

Also on AO3 Tumblr: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

_

One shower and several costume changes later, Jaskier was once again waiting anxiously for Geralt to arrive. He’d almost worn a hole in the sleeve of his jumper, a thick dark grey woollen garment which Jaskier tended to wear when his anxiety was playing up. It was comfortable, but thankfully also looked remarkably good on him. It made him look cuddly, which, if all went according to plan, Geralt would like. God, to be wrapped up in Geralt’s arms… that was the dream. There was a man that could properly squish him, which was rarer than one might think. Jaskier, despite his twinkish appearance, was actually quite broad, and certainly taller than the media gave him credit for. Once he’d come out as bisexual, the newspapers seemed detemined to make him seem like a delicate flower. But buttercups were toxic, and he was anything but delicate.

Still, a man could dream, and dream he did.

“Is he here yet?” Jaskier called to Triss who was busy vacuuming the rug in the living room whilst Jaskier stared forlornly out of the window like he was in a period drama, tucked away in the window nook.

“You tell me!” Triss called back, “You’re the one staring at the drive!”

Jaskier scoffed. She had a point, but he was hardly going to admit it. Luckily, he didn’t have to, because at that moment, Geralt’s old worn out truck came into view and Jaskier sprung to his feet with a delighted, “He’s here!”

God, he was acting like a teenager with a crush, but in his defence he hadn’t felt like this about anyone in years. Yes, he’d dated Priscilla, the human, on and off for a while before he’d gotten famous, and then there had been the terrible fling with Valdo back in university, but love?

He was starting to wonder whether he’d ever truly felt love before. Everyone always joked that he fell in love too quickly, with everyone he’d met, and he’d always been inclined to agree, but it had never felt like this before. Everything he did, saw, heard reminded him of Geralt. The golden ears of corn were in Geralt’s eyes, the silver light of the moon was his hair, song after song after song on the radio was Geralt. It was all Geralt.

He couldn’t even see a horse without thinking of Roach and her rider, and a little girl visiting the alpacas one morning just reminded him of Ciri and her father.

Jaskier was truly head over heels.

Although whether it was an infatuation or love, he had yet to tell. He was leaning towards love, but Christ, whatever it was, seemed to burn through him like an inferno. Searing away any trace of the person he’d been before. Well, maybe that was a tad dramatic, but sue him, he was a musician, he was allowed to be dramatic. And maybe his nerves were getting the better of him. His thoughts were racing faster than the speed of light, his fingers tugging at his clothes and hair. He wanted this to go well. He needed this to go well. Despite his slight obsession with Geralt, they’d barely spent more than a couple of minutes in each other’s company at a time, and that was about to change.

What if Geralt suddenly realised how annoying Jaskier could be? What if he didn’t want to spend time with him anymore?

Jaskier sighed, scratching at the stubble that was starting to grow on his cheeks. Heartbreak did make for good inspiration, but he would really rather avoid that if possible. He needed to calm down, stop blowing things out of proportion in his head. Geralt was just a friendly single parent who just happened to look like a Greek god.

It was fine.

Jaskier was fine.

He sighed again, the deep breath serving to calm his nerves as he pulled open the door before Geralt could knock. Ciri was by his side, grinning brightly as she held onto her father’s hand. That was a good thing. Jaskier needed an extra buffer between them if he had any hope of not acting like an idiot for the entirety of the knitting lesson. Even then it wasn’t a guarantee, there was just something about Geralt that stopped Jaskier’s brain cells from engaging.

Jaskier just prayed that Geralt found it endearing rather than annoying.

He could always just pout and flutter his eyelids, hoping he was cute enough to negate the lack of coherency.

See, look, he even had a plan.

Well-done him.

“Jaskier!” Ciri shrieked when she saw him, immediately letting go of Geralt’s hand and barreling into him, her arms wrapping around his waist. It was just so sweet, even if he was taken aback a little bit, his eyes meeting Geralt’s in shock.

“Ciri,” he greeted once he regained his composure. “It’s been so long!”

“Five days!” Ciri announced with a grin. “Dad said I couldn’t bother you without a good reason, that you were here for a break and that I shouldn’t crowd you.”

Jaskier raised his eyebrow at Geralt, tilting his head as he peeled away from the hug so he could rest his hand on his hip. To his delight, Ciri mirrored him, looking utterly adorable. “Is that so?”

“Yup!”

“Well then, your dad is very much mistaken, you could never be a bother! Who else am I supposed to watch The Lion King with?”

“Careful,” Geralt warned with a soft chuckle, “You’ll be stuck for life.”

Jaskier met his gaze with a fond smile, his cheeks warming at the thought. “That might not be such a bad idea, Geralt.”

“No, it might not.”

“Right!” Triss called from the living room. “Who’s ready to knit?”

Her curls peeked out from the door, followed by her freckled face that was radiating happiness as she rested a pair of wooden needles on her cheek. Ciri scrambled to find her own set of metallic rainbow needles, showing them off with pride, and then Triss bundled them all into the living room. There was a basketful of beige yarn balls by the fireplace and a few sets of needles in a bag next to them. Triss took the big armchair, easily visible from every seat in the room, and Ciri flopped cross-legged on the rug.

That left the sofa for Jaskier and Geralt.

So much for having a barrier between them.

“Yarn balls at the ready!” Triss called gleefully, as if they were preparing for battle, and perhaps they were. Jaskier’s previous experience with knitting had always felt like a fight, missing stitches, adding stitches, knitting instead of purling, purling instead of knitting…

Oh dear god, this was going to be a disaster.

And he wasn’t wrong.

Triss spent the better part of an hour trying to teach them how to cast on but Jaskier seemed to perpetually have only one stitch on his needle, and Geralt wasn’t doing much better. The needles had a row of stitches but they were an absolute mess, some loose and hanging off the needle, some so tight that he’d never be able to work them on the next row. The whole thing was apparently hilarious to Ciri, and she spent half the time in hysterics as she showed off her perfect line of stitches.

As it always was, Ciri’s laughter was infectious, and soon enough Jaskier was leaning into Geralt’s side as he tried to control the giggles, his diaphragm aching, muscles that were woefully out of practice since his breakdown. Geralt’s own laughter was more contained, but it was there nonetheless. More important were the touches they shared, passing their needles back and forth as they tried to help each other, fingers brushing in a feather light touch that felt like something out of Pride and Prejudice.

There was just something so domestic about the whole moment that words, images, notes came flying into Jaskier’s mind like a hurricane. The idea hit him like a train. The theme wasn’t nature, like he had previously thought.

It wasn’t even really love, not in the way most songs described it these days.

It was relationships, the different kinds of love you can find. The yin and yang that was Triss’s relationship with Yennefer. The fatherly love that Geralt had for Ciri, the hardships he faced as a single father and overcoming that with the deepest of love for his daughter. The blinding fireworks of a new relationship, the uncertainty offset with the hope for something brighter and better than before. The simplicity of friendship, sitting around the fire and laughing over something stupid and mundane.

Love.

But love in all its forms, not just lewd and sexual.

It was more meaningful than that, or perhaps Jaskier was just being a pretentious indie artist at heart, but he believed in this. He wanted to show the flaws, the imperfections, and how that made it… well... perfect.

He needed his notebook.

“Cock it!” he muttered as he dropped his needles into Geralt’s lap, before racing to his room.

His notebook was lying amongst the sheets, along with his glasses and a pair of boxers that really should have made it to the laundry basket. He picked up the notebooks and then spent a few minutes looking for his rainbow pen, eventually finding it halfway across the room. He thought about bundling himself up in his room whilst he figured out what he was doing, but once again, Geralt seemed to have stolen his brain cell, so he scooped up his guitar case and headed back downstairs.

Three pairs of eyes stared at him as he entered the room. Geralt and Ciri both seemed confused and concerned by his sudden outburst, but Triss was used to it, rolling her eyes at him with an exasperated smile. He grinned sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck with the end of the pen, before holding up his guitar and throwing the strap around his head. “Had an idea?” he offered as an explanation.

Ciri’s green eyes went wide and her face lit up with the biggest grin he’d ever seen. “Something new?” she breathed, obviously in awe of the idea of watching her idol work.

Jaskier blinked, looking between his guitar and the young girl, a little lost for words. They’d had such a lovely time together, working side by side on their projects, both sticking their tongues out from the concentration. Then the movie was an absolute delight. Jaskier hadn’t seen the Lion King for years before Ciri had suggested it, and he’d enjoyed every second of his time spent with Geralt’s daughter. He’d almost forgotten she was a fan.

A fan that was probably waiting on his new music with bated breath, and he really shouldn’t be playing it where anyone could hear, but the notes were currently stuck in his head, little dots on a page. He needed to hear them, feel the strings beneath his fingertips. It was a fire that burned within him, a passion and ache in his very soul. He needed the music in his life more than the oxygen he breathed and the notepads just weren’t cutting it any more.

He needed to play.

“Ah, yeah, yes,” he stammered, gripping the neck of his guitar a tad too tightly but he was suddenly very nervous.

These songs were not perfect, far from that. They were unfinished drafts, drafts of drafts… mere ideas, whispers on the wind. He couldn’t rely on the pyrotechnics or dramatic lighting, there was no editing in the studio or retakes until the songs were flawless. It was just him, his guitar, and this incredibly intimate audience of three.

Fuck.

This was a terrible idea. Geralt would hate it, Ciri would renounce her love for him. The critics would find out and it would be plastered all over social media. Twitter would explode, spreading vicious rumours of how he was washed up at the age of twenty-seven.

He couldn’t breathe.

He was too hot.

Not enough air.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

“Jaskier?” Geralt’s voice cut through the swirling haze of his mind.

Jaskier blinked, trying to focus on something; anything, until Geralt’s golden eyes came into view. There was a firm grip on his shoulder that he hadn’t noticed before, and Geralt had his guitar held gently in one hand.

“Breathe, Jask,” Geralt reminded him in a low voice that was barely above a whisper. “That’s it, follow my breaths.”

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

He could do this. Breathing, easy as pie. Every breath was matched with Geralt’s and he felt himself slowly sink to the floor. Geralt followed him down, still talking quietly, reassurances that barely registered, as Jaskier focused on the timbre of his voice. When he finally became aware of his surroundings once more, he realised they were alone.

They’d never been alone before.

And suddenly the air disappeared from the room for an entirely different reason. There was just Geralt, his eyes, the touch of his hands, a low rumble of his voice, and Jaskier felt his world spin again.

“Geralt,” he breathed shakily, his own voice pitiful and weak even to his own ears.

“What happened?”

Jaskier laughed, a short panicked sound that probably made him seem a tad mad… and perhaps he was, all the best people were, after all. “Panic attack,” he mumbled, smiling sheepishly at Geralt. “I- I haven’t played for an audience since- since… umm….”

“It’s okay,” Geralt reassured him, squeezing his shoulder. “You don’t have to tell me.”

But Jaskier wanted to. He’d hadn’t talked to anyone since his breakdown, only the mandatory therapy sessions that Yennefer had made him go to and whatever nonsense he’d spouted out to her when she dragged him from the mess of his flat.

Although… Maybe talking could wait. It was as if his energy had been sapped from him and he wanted nothing more than to run away, hide under his duvet and shut out the world. His hands were still shaking, the world spinning and faint even with Geralt’s grip on his shoulder, and fuck, he wanted to be sick.

“I- I…” he stammered helplessly, his tongue heavy in his mouth.

Words.

He was normally chock-full of words but they’d seemingly died before they could pass his lips.

Strong arms wrapped around him, pulling Jaskier into a tight hug. His face pressed against Geralt’s chest and he could hear the gentle beat of his heart, a steady drum in the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins.

Fight or Flight.

Flight or Fight.

He couldn’t stay still, but he wanted, god, he wanted. He whined softly and wriggled in Geralt’s arms, trying to push the restlessness away, focus on anything else. Geralt was safe. He didn’t need to run. He was protected.

“Gonna be alright,” Geralt murmured softly, his hand running down Jaskier’s spine.

It wasn’t going to be alright, but it would get better. That was what people kept telling him, and for two whole weeks it had been. In fact, he almost felt better now that he’d had another attack; it wasn’t just in his head.

This wasn’t slacking off.

He needed this.

“‘M okay…” he said softly, pulling back from Geralt’s embrace. “Want to tell you, but…”

“Another time?” Geralt guessed.

“Yeah.”

Jaskier was all but ready to retreat, his bed calling his name for the evening, but Geralt rested his forehead against Jaskier’s, and it was suddenly difficult to remember why he wanted to leave at all.

“I’ll be here when you’re ready.” The words were so quiet, Jaskier wasn’t entirely sure if he’d heard them or whether it was just a dream.

Ready to talk; that’s what Geralt meant… right? But there was an intensity to the words that felt like more. Ready to talk, yes, but ready to hold him again? To kiss him?

To love him?

Did Geralt feel it too?

Jaskier just swallowed and mumbled a thanks, wiping the unshed tears from his eyes, before fleeing up to his bedroom, leaving his guitar with Geralt and his notebook abandoned in the tangle of yarn. He just had to hope the inspiration wouldn’t be lost to time without the stain of ink on the page.

Unlikely.

Bollocks.

A break, he was allowed a break and Christ, he just wanted a nap.

The music would have to rest for now.

_

next

[minecraftrelatedrandomness]

I was going through your post regarding your analysis of c!Quackity's backstory and your statements about c!Q's age made me remember the 88th Quackity Birthday poster within the casino of Las Nevadas

People then rendered 88 to a duck-human age calculator, with 88 in duck being equivalent to 21 in human, which lines up with cc!Q's age at the time. (This is also a reference to those several birthdays thing cc!Quackity has? I think?) Affirmation of this would line up with theories and hcs about c!Quackity being a duck/duck hybrid, so going to juvie at 9 would have a human equivalent of going to juvie at 37. Idk, thoughts on your end?

Oh, that. That’s why c!Q’s age is such a mystery, and why this ask is so hard to answer. My initial guess was that he might think in duck years, but his mentality ages in human years, if you get what I mean. But this is where it gets weird: I’ve seen that age calculator, and those things are not accurate to real-life animal ageing, and are only a very gross generalization of it. Please allow me to rant about it here for a moment:

The thing is that in real life, wild ducks barely live for a few years (e.g. the average life expectancy of a mallard is about 3 years in the wild) and only live up to “old age” (~20 “human years”) in captivity. I’m using mallards for reference as they’re the most common duck species IRL, for below:

From Wikipedia, “The adulthood age for mallards is fourteen months, and the average life expectancy is three years, but they can live to twenty.”

Run that through the age calculator and they’d say that mallards are adults by about 5 in “duck years”, and their average life expectancy in “duck years” would be about 12.63. Imagine the vast majority of the damn population allegedly dying by the time they’re “teenagers” by human standards, because that’s what’s happening here, according to the age calculator.

But that’s not what’s happening in real life. Since the adulthood age for mallards, for instance, is 14 months, we might equate that to being in their 20s or so, because that’s when the brain becomes fully developed in humans. Approximately double that age, and the wild mallard will be dying in the human equivalent of their 50s.

This does not contradict the age calculator, because the age calculator relies on data provided through ducks that are in captivity or domesticated (which are usually mallards or descended from mallards). This is how they can live to “a ripe old age” of ~20 “human years” in the first place, since they are protected from the dangers of the wild like predation. (And mind you, mallards, for instance, are prey to a lot of animals.) 

But at the same time, domesticated ducks still mature that quickly. They still become “adults” in about a “human” year’s time. And that’s something the age calculator doesn’t work with - basically, the animal age calculator works based on a mathematical function. 

Take the “human year” to “duck year” calculator as an example. The mathematical function is “1 human year = 4.21 duck years”, so “2 human years = 8.42 duck years”, “3 human years = 12.63 duck years”, etc. In other words, they took the age of the longest living ducks in captivity, equated that to an approximate human age, then divided all the data equally even though animal ageing isn’t divided neatly into little equal chunks like that.

If you’re thinking about a human equivalent of this... try a “Middle Ages lifespan calculator”, or whatever pre-modern time era you can think of before stuff like sanitation, sufficient nutrition, and low infant mortality rates became big. For example, in the Middle Ages, the average life expectancy was 30-35, but that’s because a good chunk of the babies born per year die before they reach their 5th birthday. If the people in medieval times manage to survive to adulthood, their lifespan increases “significantly” to their 40s, or even well into their 60s if they were, say, an aristocrat that has enough resources to live out their life comfortably. 

That’s the same thing that’s going on between wild and domesticated animal populations - in the wild, the mortality rate is much higher due to stuff like predation and competition or whatever ecological relationships, so their life expectancy is much lower. If they manage to survive all of that, or avoid all that due to either domestication or living in captivity (e.g. in a zoo), their life expectancy skyrockets.

To conclude this whole shitshow of a rant: 

The animal age calculator is NOT a reliable reference because it works based on maths instead of biology - the calculator is linear and proportional, but actual biological ageing is not

Life expectancy is dependent on a shit ton of factors and isn’t a clear-cut, in-and-out scenario for any species - because those factors affect how long the organism lives, so it’s subject to change when those dependent factors’ “values” change

And now, back on topic. If we’re going by that age standard, at age 9 in human years, c!Q (assuming he be duck) would be insanely long-lived for a wild duck and about middle-aged for a domesticated duck, and would definitely be very old in “duck years” by the time the DSMP rolls around, at age 19 and up. 

HOWEVER, as of canon, c!Q still pretty much has the mental maturity corresponding to human years rather than duck years - his overall naivety and idealism in particular during Season 1 are very youthful, not elderly, traits. Thus, while it might be considered that c!Q is conscious of his “duck age” if he were a “Hybrid”, his mental maturity is pretty much the same as that if he were just plain old human, and whether he’s Duck or not has absolutely nothing to do with any of this. While I personally like the Duck Hybrid theory/fanon and am supportive of it, I feel that using the age calculator to correspond to c!Q’s age isn’t necessarily an indicator of his character and might instead create scientific misinformation.

In other words, c!Q might be middle-aged or even old if we’re calculating by “duck years” in terms of going to juvie, but his mentality at the time would still be that of a 9-year-old human and not a duck, so the duck part is completely irrelevant to the whole scenario.

Sorry for the rant, by the way, I just really needed to get all that off my chest.

[ladykissingfish]

The Akatsuki as Parents

Obito

Was a bit reluctant when he found out he was going to be a daddy ... at first. Not because he didn’t want kids ((he really did)), but because he severely doubted his own ability to be a father. But the second he holds the baby in his arms, he’s hooked. He will be so eagerly helpful and hands-on that during the child’s infancy, the other parent will rarely have to lift a finger. Diapers need changing? Obito’s on it. Baby needs to be fed at 2am? Obito’s already out of bed and warming formula on the stove. Rash? Fever? A cough? Obito is consulting every doctor within a 20 mile radius on what to do. Note that Obito is a hard-core traditionalist and, if he isn’t married to the child’s other parent before he gets them pregnant, he’ll be persistent about doing so before the kid is born. Sobs the first time his child calls him “papa”. As the child grows older, Obito will be a tireless teacher and mentor, and you better believe that the kid will know every facet of what was once the Uchiha clan. Sharingan training is a bit nerve-wracking for Dad, because while he wants his child to grow strong, he knows the power of the eye is a deadly one, and doesn’t like to see his son/daughter get hurt. Is the type to be a bit more strict with his sons than with daughters, in fact being a complete pushover for anything his little girl(s) wants. Very, VERY likely to insist a girl be named Nohara. Also the type to sneak and let his kid eat lots of sweets (like Obito himself does) before meals, much to the other parent’s chagrin. Also involves the other Akatsuki members as uncles/aunt in the kid’s life, especially Itachi and Sasuke as he wants the kid to be exposed to members of the family more often.

Hidan

The literal first words out of his mouth are “pregnant? Why the hell didn’t you make me wear a condom?!” Takes a long time to warm up to the idea of parenthood, but once he does, he’s surprisingly better at it than anyone would anticipate. He tends to be very fast-paced in his body movements and not really used to being careful, so if he’s holding his infant it’s best to make him sit still in a chair first. Once the kid(s) is older, it’s better, because Hidan’s energy levels will match (and overshadow) even the liveliest of children. It will be a big point of contention between Hidan and his co-parent on whether or not to introduce their kid to Jashinism, and Hidan will eventually promise to wait until the child is an adult to start talking about “all that shit”; although Hidan’s idea of adulthood seems to be when the kid is old enough to use a kunai. Puts a startling amount of emphasis on his kid getting a good education, and will be sure to send him or her to the best village school that he possibly can. The reason behind this is because Hidan himself had a poor education growing up, and is in fact barely able to read or do basic math; and he says over and over that his kid “isn’t gonna be some dumbass like his/her father”.

Kakuzu

Nearly faints when told he’s going to be a father. Will immediately get out a calculator and start figuring out expenses like diapers, food, toys, education ... is so preoccupied that he ends up neglecting the person who carries his child, causing them to go off on their own expecting to be a single parent. Oddly, it’s Hidan who sets the old guy straight. He stays on his case and talks to him until the nonagenarian sees the error of his ways, and goes after the person having his baby. Kakuzu will be gentle with a baby, and show a surprising affinity for making up and singing lullabies. As the kid gets older, Kakuzu will be a bit more strict. “Food is expensive; you better eat every bite on your plate.” “A hole in your pants? No give them to me and I’ll mend them; buying new clothes is unnecessary.” His child will grow up knowing how to stretch a buck and budget money better than any other kid their age. Kakuzu isn’t really one for showing much warmth or affection, but there will be a few rare moments in his kid’s life where his father hugs him and tells him how proud he is of him. Kakuzu knows that the life of a shinobi is hard and therefore encourages his kid to pursue other career paths, such as opening up his/her own business.

Konan and Nagato

These two are so closely intertwined that they could only be parental mates to each other. When a baby comes into the picture, Nagato will still maintain his position as leader of the Akatsuki as Pein, but will insist that Konan quit. It’s for a practical purpose rather than a sentimental one; they both lost their collective parents to war, and Nagato always thought that if he had a child, he’d ensure that at least one parent would be around to always take care of him or her. Konan, however, will still keep in touch with all of the Akatsuki members, who will become very enthusiastic uncles to her child. She’s always been a good cook but with a child she’ll level up to professional chef caliber, creating dishes that are fun and healthy. Her child(ren) will be taught all of their mother’s paper jutsus, and Nagato will work to devise a way for the brightest one to get his rinnegan once he passes. The kids will primarily spend time with Nagato through Pein, and only be taken to meet their father when Konan feels they’re ready. Because Konan and Nagato had a childhood devoid of parental love, they’re often at a loss for how to be affectionate or sentimental, instead putting a lot of emphasis on “toughening” their kids up, so that they’re prepared to face the cruelties of the world. But the kids will know that mom and dad love them; it’s obvious in everything they say and do.

Deidara

Will be the fun, loving, yet highly irresponsible father. As soon as his kid is born he anxiously awaits to see if he or she inherits his explosion-release kekkei genkai; and if the kid DOES, he’s ecstatic. “Art is an explosion” won’t just be a saying in his household; it’ll be a way of life. The child will grow up given complete freedom to express his or her artistic tendencies, with Deidara highly praising any and every impact they make on the outside world. Yet despite being for artistic creativity, he’ll be (surprisingly) strongly against the child joining any kind of organization that’s like the Akatsuki; he regrets his own decision to join as he feels it out a horrible damper on his artistic expression and independence. Likes to tell his young children stories every night, which are actually just heavily edited and sanitized versions of his Akatsuki missions. Like Obito, will be a bit more of a pushover for a daughter than a son, and will love spending hours brushing and styling the beautiful long hair that the girl inherits from him. He’ll let any member of the Akatsuki around his kids except for Hidan (because he doesn’t want his foul language around the child).

Zetsu

There are people in this world who know for certain that their lives wouldn’t be fulfilled by having children, and Zetsu is one of these individuals. While wanting no offspring of his own, he IS rather a good “uncle” to the children of his fellow Akatsuki members ((although the majority of these kids are too terrified of his physical appearance to want to go anywhere near him until they’re at least teenagers)).

Sasori

A child would be hard-pressed to elicit any kind of emotional reaction from Sasori, as the man cleared himself of most feeling when he underwent his puppet transformation. However, one thing that he could never rid himself of, was his ability to love. Even if he has difficulty showing it, he loves his child and would do literally anything to help or protect them. When the child is a baby, Sasori will spend hours crafting tiny puppet-dolls for the kid to play with. As he grew up with a skilled medic grandmother, he possesses a wide knowledge of herbs and healing, which he will painstakingly pass on to his children. Not one to baby his children by any means, as he lives by the philosophy that the world is tough meaning you have to be tougher; however will offer advice, support, and encouragement on any issues that may be troubling his son/daughter. Early on he expresses a desire for his child to learn to be a master puppeteer like himself; however will be understanding if they choose to pursue a different path. Is very smart and naturally mistrustful of strangers, so will likely choose to educate his kids at home rather than send them to a village school. The type to seem more like a trusted mentor or an interesting uncle than an actual father; also the type to relate to his teen or adult children better than young kids.

Itachi

Itachi never feels like he deserves any of the good things in life, because of what he’s done, and therefore doesn’t know how to handle blessings that are given to him. A baby is the ultimate example of this. Itachi will feel as though any child of his would be better off not knowing him or being “exposed” to the cursed Uchiha bloodline, so at first he’ll make it a point to barely be around his baby ((even though this kills him inside)). Surprisingly, of all people, it’s Deidara who will talk him out of this mindset, telling him how important it is for a child to be around their father “even if he is a damned red-eyed weirdo”. Once Itachi allows himself to fully commit to parenthood, that’s it — he’ll be the best damned father in the universe. He’ll be warm and affectionate, especially liking to pick his kid up (no matter how old they are or how embarrassed it makes them) and squeeze them. He’s not much of a disciplinarian, believing that kids need to be able to make mistakes in order to grow from them. The only time he’ll ever get angry is when the child does something that could have resulted in a serious injury. Itachi’s intelligence has always been off the charts, and he utilizes this to help his kid be a spectacular student. In fact, as the kid gets older, they’ll start bringing his/her friends around the house in order to receive Itachi’s tutoring. Itachi’s brother Sasuke will adore his nephew/niece and come home more often simply to be with them. Also Kisame will come around practically every day, and the kid will grow up learning an impressive arsenal of water jutsus to compliment the traditional Uchiha fire jutsus.

Kisame

The tall, somewhat awkward father that scares all of his kid’s friends with his intimidating physical appearance ... until he opens his mouth and they hear a god-awful dad joke come out. Any child of Kisame’s is going to be part shark, and therefore have some affinity for being in/breathing under the water. Kisame’s favorite pastime will be taking his baby (and yes, I do mean baby, as he tends to start his kid on this when they’re young) out for long swims in the ocean. Kisame has always been self-conscious of his looks, so from the time the child is born he will spend a good deal of time teaching him or her to have self-confidence and love for him/herself. Like many of the others in the Akatsuki, Kisame never received much of a formal education, and therefore puts a lot of emphasis on his child going to a “normal” school and giving it their all when it comes to their studies. When the child proves him or herself physically capable, Kisame will start training with them on how to wield/control samehada, as well as fight with a variety of swords. It goes without saying that Itachi will be in Kisame’s kid’s life from the day they’re born, and be their favorite “uncle”.

[wizkiddx]

Blurb req- Tom and the reader on a private jet hungover? just pure fluff?

fluffy requests are well and truly open ( bcos I adored writing this ahah) and let me know what u think , I am deff not a writer so any feedback or tips would be v appreciated :))

summary: tomhollandxactress!reader - a wrap party followed by an early morning flight and a grumpy Harry, what could possibly go wrong?

warning: mentions of alcohol and sickness

|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

The remorse. The regret. It only made the pounding in your head even worse. Why those two 1.5 litre bottle of Bacardi had been brought out was beyond you. Why the you six of you had then decided to empty said bottle was even more of a mystery. It wasn’t like any of you had needed it, you’d all been more than ‘merry’ prior to the cheap rum and coke. 

Hence the state of you, Tom and Harry as well as your manager Davey and Tom’s team of Rachel and Andrew. All having made very little effort with your appearance - joggers and hoodies all round, with you and Rachel also sporting sunglasses because you were simply smarter than the boys. Thankfully, this wasn’t a big trip that fans knew about, this was you and Tom moving location under cover  - the studios didnt want anybody to know that either of you made a feature in this film, so everything was under the cover of darkness. Which to be honest you were not complaining about. However, you were complaining about the fact the flight had been scheduled to leave at 7 am the night after your wrap party though.

The two of you had just wrapped your most recent and most ambitious movie to date - hence the massive celebrations last night for just surviving and getting it done. It had been the most intense 3 months of your life, there had been times you’d cry for hours on end, times you just wanted to quit fully knowing you’d never be hired again for leaving a multimillion dollar company in the lurch.But you all, somehow, had survived. So celebrations were in order of course but perhaps not as far as you all managed last night?

Your whole convey appeared to have travelled to the airfield in absolute silence, no one particularly fancied hearing anyone else’s voice- which to be honest seemed quite fair. You’d ridden in a car with Tom and Harry, with you resting your head on Tom’s broad shoulder - which had obviously made Harry gag, rolling his eyes. Bless Harry, really he was the only reason you and Tom had got together, after getting sick of the mutual pining he’d been forced to live with during the previous 2 projects you’d worked on together. But now, having had to put up with the two of you being so ridiculously loved up for the past 3 months - understandably a bit of distance from you and his brother was overdue. 

One of the flight attendants busied themselves loading your luggage, whilst the pilot asked you and Tom for a photo. Of course, you weren’t going to say no however you did have to cringe at how rough you both looked. His teenage daughter certainly would be less excited to see that her Dad hadn’t met Tom Holland and Y/n Y/l/n. Instead he’d met the zombified, undead and rougher frauds. Still you smiled as much as you could, wincing when you removed the glasses and the early morning sun pierced your restricted pupils. God it wasn’t your day. 

The guy didn’t seem to mind though, excitedly hurrying off onto the plane to settle in the rest of you - leaving just you and Tom outside on the tarmac. 

“Poor guy, we look like shit.” You murmured while taking a step closer to lean slightly into his side. 

“Speak for yourself love.’Tom snickered into the top of your head, after pulling you completely into his chest. This wasn’t normally allowed, your relationship still wasn’t public and both of you intended on keeping it private for as long as possible. But you were in an otherwise empty field in the middle of nowhere (somewhere in Georgia) before 8 am. It was actually quite nice to feel your boyfriends arms round you in the outside world, especially when you felt this shit. After a few moments you pulled away, arching back at Tom’s pouty face as you motioned it was time to get on the plane. 

“’S too late you know.” Your brows furrowed at his half formed sentence, facial expression only demanding him to explain more. “They all have already taken the good seats… Harry basically sprinted on so he can hog the bed thing.” In response it was your turn to pout, groaning as you fell back into his chest again. Yes, this was a complete first world issue, a private jet paid completely by your bosses was not something a lot would moan about. Truly you were grateful for everything you had in life, but with the worst hangover of your life when the opportunity of lying down for 6 hours instead of being stuck in a chair had manifested itself… well of course you felt robbed by your almost brother Harry. 

Chuckling at your reaction, he gave you an extra squeeze before leading the both of you up the stairs to the cabin. Sure enough Harry had completely and totally claimed the longer couch at the far end of the plane, lying on his stomach with his face hidden in the crook of his elbow. Rolling your eyes at the predictable situation, you didn’t miss Davey laughing at your sorry state - nmaking you throw daggers at him in your eyes. 

Davey was your second father, the relationship between the two of you far transcended any professional working one. Which is why the two of you acting like this was very much a norm and not rude at all. He had also got the next best seat in the corner with the most leg room which he clearly loved to show off. 

Unsurprisingly then you and Tom ended up squashed into the corner with your legs crumpled up together in the small space floor space. The brunette opposite you didn’t seem to mind so much but that was because he had an adaptational advantage. He could sleep anywhere and everywhere , whenever he wanted. On set if he was tired? Just take a ten minute power nap on the floor. Bored of a long car journey? Just conk out against the window. It absolutely infuriated you, as no matter how hard and how exhausted you were - it was rare you could get any further than a light doze. Even before the two go you got together, having a best mate that could skip all the boring bits and was immune to jet lag… you can see how that makes you want to punch him square in the face.

After a short safety talk from the pilot and flight attendant, the plane whirred into life and you were up in the air. Although in your current state, it would be reasonable to assume the beauty of flying had somewhat rubbed off - you were certain it never would. No matter how many flights you took across country ,and in fact continents, for work; you’d never get sick of watching the view below you. It was perfect and breathtaking and took your mind off the pounding in the back of your head for the first 20 minutes.

Until the need for sleep took over as either you need to be unconcious or you were going to vomit - which you really didn’t want to do at 40,000 feet in a tin box. Trying to rearrange your limbs to get comfier you accidentally knocked Tom’s leg rather forcefully, causing him to jump half out his seat, heavy eyes blinking quickly as he tried to get his baring as to what was attacking him - quickly answered by your guilty look. 

“You okay love?” His voice was slurred, sounding almost sleep drunk - but perhaps was just actually still a little drunk. You’d only headed to bead last night at 4 am and had to be up at 6 - which isnt very long for your poor kidneys to try and process the stupid amount of alcohol you’d both  happily been chugging the night before.

“Feel shitty and cant sleep.” You weren’t in the mood to white lie - honestly some sympathy from your beautiful boyfriend seemed like a dream at the moment. Tom’s idea was better though.

“C’mere then.” His arms outstretched, you immediately jumped into his lap - the two of you shifting about to get comfortable till you were sat side on to him, your bum and back leaning against the arm rest of the chair with your legs going over his thighs and pressing against the wall of the plane. Pulling you closer to his chest, Tom took a deep breath as he pressed his chin against the crown of your head; your face now nested into his chest. 

Nothing needed to be said as the two of you melted into each others bodies, the slow and deepening breathing enough to prove to each other you were both incredibly contented in that moment. More than that you felt safe- you’d admitted to Tom some weeks ago that you had never ever slept better than when he was beside you. Yeh it was cringey but sometimes that’s allowed right? 

… well not to Harry. Because as the plane was about to begin it’s descent, the pilot had tasked Harry (who had slept off the worst of the hangover and had spent the last 30 minutes of the flight scoffing at how adorable the two of you looked fast asleep together) - even after Rach had scalded him and had taken a photo of the two of you on her phone. 

Causing Harry to ,ever subtly, wake the two of you up by throwing his half empty water bottle over your heads. 

Safe to say, Harry very nearly didn’t leave that jet alive.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Prompt: anything with Jiang Yanli, I’d love to see more of her PoV

part 2 of whumptober 20 (JYL/LXC field medicine)

ao3 link

-

It wasn’t that Jiang Yanli never thought about other men.

After all, she was a female cultivator, and her opinion was therefore one of the ones that was rather eagerly solicited when it came to naming the most attractive young masters in the cultivation world; it was only that it had never seemed to matter. After all, she was engaged, and always had been, to her mother’s dearest friend’s only son, and that, it had seemed at the time, was that.

Oh, her father spoke warmly about marrying for love and not for obligation, but Jiang Yanli had never quite understood what he meant. Even if she didn’t love Jin Zixuan, she loved her mother enough to want to respect her wishes, and it was easy enough to dismiss what negative things she’d heard about him – arrogant, self-centered, impetuous, but of course he was still young, and weren’t most teenage boys like that? – and instead daydream about the life she would have in the future.

When she was young, it was mostly daydreams of having some faceless man (she couldn’t imagine little Jin Zixuan, who at three years younger was barely more than a baby) bring her gifts and tease her and kiss her, then say she was the prettiest person he’d ever seen. The way she’d always heard was supposed to be how lovers talked, the way people said that a marriage ought to be like - the way her parents’ marriage had never been.

When she was a bit older, her thoughts drifted away from retreading romantic stories and to the actual work of being married, of being the mistress of Lanling Jin. In the beginning, her duty would be to first and foremost produce an heir and a spare, to remain healthy throughout the process, and to support her husband as he slowly began to take on the duties that would eventually become his, but later on it would get more interesting. A sect leader could not be everywhere, and his wife would often be left in charge when he was not at home – she would have to know everything about the sect, same as him, enough to make decisions in his absence; she would have to answer correspondence, make decisions, negotiate with traders, collect duties, enforce the peace, and she’d also have to manage the sect’s social scene on top of it all.

She probably wouldn’t have much time to cook, Jiang Yanli thought wistfully, thinking about how Lanling women prided themselves on never having to lift a finger for themselves, and threw herself into her favorite hobby now, while she still could. If she was clever about it, she might be able to get good enough at it that her future husband would find some dish of hers that he liked, something that only she could make, and then her cooking would be something done at his request – a charming idiosyncrasy, an indulgence of sweethearts.

When she got older still, and learned about Sect Leader Jin’s philandering and the iron grip of control Madame Jin imposed on Lanling in order to keep her position in the face of all the backstabbing and politics, she thought to herself that that sounded exhausting. But by that point, all of her childhood daydreams had Jin Zixuan’s name on them – although admittedly not his face, for all that he had grown up into one of the most handsome young men of his generation, and certainly not his mannerisms – and it was far too late to raise a fuss now. So Jiang Yanli studied willpower in addition to trade routes, learned how to exploit social norms in addition to how to manage a dinner party, taught herself how to play people just as well as she played the guqin, absorbed the lessons of both murder and mathematics, and above all figured out how to stand up for herself and what she believed in no matter what overwhelming pressure she might face.

Even though Jiang Yanli was pretty sure that Madame Jin wouldn’t appreciate that last part in a daughter-in-law, especially not one reputed to be as easygoing as her father.

(“Let her be upset,” her own mother had snorted when Jiang Yanli had tentatively raised the issue. “Are you supposed to ruin your own future because she’s a bitter old mother-in-law that’d rather not give up control so early? I may have agreed to marry you to her son, A-Li, but she agreed to marry him to my daughter. If she wanted easy and pliable, she should have thought again.”

“But she’s your friend,” Jiang Yanli had said, frowning a little. “Don’t you want her to be happy?”

Her mother had looked tired. “Once, more than anything,” she’d said. “But the chance for that passed long ago.”)

So it wasn’t that she didn’t notice other men. It was just that there was no point in allowing herself to look, and she knew enough of her parents’ marriage, and of Madame Jin’s, to not want to look.

And then, suddenly, there was.

Her engagement was broken. One could say that it happened at her own beloved brothers’ hands, at her father’s blind dislike of arrangements even when it was one his own daughter had long ago accepted and had even learned to long for, but in truth Jin Zixuan was a proper young master, old enough to make decisions for himself, to exercise some control over his own life, and the first bit of control he’d taken into his own hands was to decide that he didn’t want her.

It was – not fine, no. She spent some time crying over it, and yet more time comforting Wei Wuxian who was distraught at having caused her pain, and the most time of all quietly wondering what the point of her existence was now that she was no longer useful as a marriage tool. She’d never been much of a cultivator, never been especially pretty, never been anything more than average – what was the point of her?

Maybe that was when she’d decided to pick up medicine.

Field medicine was womanly enough to satisfy critics, and yet it was something useful in a practical sense: she could save people’s lives, if she only learned enough, and studying she could do.

Sometimes, she even got the chance to save the lives of very attractive people, like when the First Jade of Lan lay crumpled in the cot before her as she patched him up. So this is the one they ranked first, she thought, examining him with her eyes even as she kept her hands busy, and she was forced to admit that the other female cultivators of her generation had good taste. He was devastatingly handsome.

Kind, too, she soon learned; gentle and courteous in his mannerisms. He smiled often, which she appreciated in a person (if one interpreted Jiang Cheng’s scowls as smiles, he smiled nearly as much!), and he seemed to genuinely admire her efforts at medicine, however rudimentary. Over dinner, which he insisted on sharing with her even after he was well on his road to recovery, the conversation between them flowed easily and well: they both had brothers they loved, which was a conversation topic of which neither of them would ever tire, and they both enjoyed art and music. He didn’t know the first thing about cooking, but enjoyed asking questions (especially after she’d made him a meal he particularly enjoyed, which was often), while she enjoyed the way he blushed when she teased him.

She didn’t think much of it, of course. If she couldn’t keep the husband that had been promised to her since before she could walk – if she was too dull, too plain, too weak, too average to be worthy of an untried young man like him – then she definitely had no hope of catching the most attractive and capable young master of their generation, a dashing war hero and sect leader in his own right.

And then, when they were both laughing over an especially hair-brained scheme they’d concocted to try to get Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian to spend more time together – Jiang Yanli had noticed how much Wei Wuxian talked about Lan Wangji once he’d returned to the Lotus Pier, and Lan Xichen swore up and down that Lan Wangji had been no better – he turned to her and said, “If you were in Gusu, your brothers would be sure to come to visit you.”

“Me, in Gusu?” Jiang Yanli was startled into a laugh. “Why would I be in Gusu? As your guest?”

Lan Xichen coughed. “I had been hoping for something – a bit more permanent than that. If that would be something you would be open to.”

It actually took her a moment to understand, and then she had to raise her hands to cover her suddenly burning cheeks.

“You don’t have to say anything now,” he said hastily. “Just something to think about, if you’re interested…and of course, if your heart is elsewhere –”

“It isn’t,” she blurted out, and had to turn away.

“I’d hoped that was the case,” he said quietly, his voice warm. “I’ll take my leave, Mistress Jiang.”

Jiang Yanli had grown up thinking of herself as the future mistress of Lanling Jin, with its riches and its beauty and its poisonous heart, and then she’d assumed she’d be nothing at all, an old maid that helped Jiang Cheng manage his sect until he finally found a wife to suit him.

She’d never thought about being the mistress of Gusu Lan.

Gusu Lan, which was not as wealthy as Lanling Jin but just as complex – with its own trade routes and subordinate sects and business to manage – with its beautiful and serene landscape, its culture that emphasized harmony and unity rather than backstabbing – with no overbearing mother-in-law that would have barely been tolerable even when her own mother would have been there to hold her back, but would have been impossible without such protection –

She hadn’t dreamt of Lan Xichen as a child, or even as a teenager, but when she thought about all those dreams with a faceless man that she’d named Jin Zixuan regardless of any similarity to the real thing…

Lan Xichen fit in much better to the idea in her head than the real Jin Zixuan ever had.

“I won’t live separately,” she told him when he came over the next day, before he could even say a word; it had been just about the only problem she could see with his proposal. “In another house, certainly, but not an entirely different dwelling, and if I have any children, I would want them to live with me regardless of their gender.”

“I wouldn’t dream of having you so far away,” he said, and he was smiling again, broad and bright and – somehow, impossibly – hers. “Might I kiss you?”

“You may,” she said, and he did.

“Mistress Jiang,” Lan Xichen said a moment later, “you’re the most remarkable woman I’ve ever met.”

Remarkable, Jiang Yanli thought to herself, was better than pretty any day.