#i know it's all rather sad but frankly i think there are some funny-ass bits here 😇

[meanscarletdeceiver]

Excellent Emily and The Three Railway Engines™️... BUT IT'S THE BAD TIMELINE 💀

also, Togetherness™️! ... BUT IT'S THE BAD TIMELINE 💀

[elizabeethan]

The Swan and her Handler

Emma Swan was cursed, and the only way to break it is with True Love's Kiss. Try breaking a curse with True Love's Kiss when you're a damn swan.

Yes, it's true, I've written a CS AU based on Walnut the Crane, a crane who fell in love with her handler. I'm ashamed at how idiotic this is. It’s by far the dumbest thing I've ever written in all my life. It’s nothing more than crack written in about an hour, un-betaed and barely edited. Sorry, and you’re welcome.

Rated T for language

~2000 words

Read my other stuff

Read on Ao3

These damn idiots can’t get anything right. It was bad enough when Emma showed up on their doorstep with perfectly clear care instructions that were completely ignored, but now they keep trying to get her to reproduce as if she’s some kind of zoo animal. 

  Of course, given her current living situation, it does make at least a tiny bit of sense. 

  Ever since the curse, Emma has been stuck in a wildlife refuge and has been unable to get any of her stupid caretakers to figure out how to help her. She knows exactly what she needs, but unfortunately, no one here speaks swan and she can’t exactly hold a pen. Her care instructions were translated upon her transformation, so the one thing that could have helped her now looks like chicken-- er, swan scratch. 

  “She needs a mate,” one of the jack asses points out. “She’ll probably want to mate for life.”

  True, she thinks, although, not with any of the stinky fluff balls you have sent my way.  

  First it was Neal. He tried to mate with her, so she killed him. Last week, they put Walsh in her enclosure, and she pecked at him violently until they took pity on him and sent him to the medical unit. 

  Although today seems different, because her newest caretaker has shown up, and she realizes that he just might be exactly what she’s been looking for. 

Emma Swan, unfortunately very appropriately named, requires a mate who can break her curse, True Loves Kiss the only thing that can bring her back to her truest form as a human adult woman. And when the new dark haired, stunning eyed veterinarian comes strutting into her enclosure, she hurries towards him to get a closer look at his name tag. 

  He jumps away, making some comment about her being fiery , and she blushes, squawking at him as she tries to get closer. Killian , it reads, and if she had lips and not a bill, she would smile. 

  “We think she’s depressed,” the stupid one with the big eyes says. “She’s killed every mate we’ve tried to pair her with.” 

  Good, she thinks. I must have done more damage on Walsh than I initially thought.  

  “You’re just misunderstood, aren’t you, love?” the angel-man asks, making her squawk in agreement. She thinks she could make this quick, this man obviously understanding her horrible twist of fate, so she lunges for him once more, trying hard to kiss his hand and hoping beyond hope that it will transform her back into the woman she's supposed to be. No more feathers, she prays. 

  He exclaims again, jumping and complaining of his hand hurting as she pecks him, so she rolls her eyes and squawks angrily. “Alright, darling,” he says with his hands up, his smooth, accented voice making her heart flutter inside her chest. Her breast? She knows very little about swan anatomy, despite having been turned into one. “Perhaps she’s stressed about her environment. Have you tried giving her a dark, quiet place to nest?” 

  “Not yet,” the dumbass admits. 

  The handsome one, Killian, a name she could get used to rolling off of her tongue, steps away from her, so she hurriedly follows. “Perhaps here in this corner will do.” 

  I would love to spend time in a dark corner with you, she thinks, giving the man what she hopes is a salacious smirk. She watches appreciatively as he sits down, crossing his legs as he starts to fiddle with some sticks as if she would be interested in them. Rather than helping him to make a nest out of the twigs and leaves, she plops herself right in his lap, nestling herself into his crossed legs and gazing up at his beautiful features, earning a smile from him. 

  “There we are, love,” he says happily, clearly surprised that she chose to plant herself upon him, although he shouldn't be. Just look at him, for god’s sake. “Comfortable?” 

  She squawks loudly, making him cringe, then fluffs her feathers in an attempt to gussy herself up for him. If she’s going to earn True Love’s Kiss from this perfect specimen, she’s going to have to work for it. The man chuckles as he looks down at her-- is he gazing? -- and lifts his hand slowly, placing a finger gently upon the top of her head and petting back down her neck, sending a chill down her spine, at least she thinks it’s her spine. She pushes her head towards him again, demanding more attention in an effort to get him to fall for her. It shouldn’t take long; she’s very enchanting. 

  “She’s never been this calm,” the dumb one says, making her snap her head towards him with a glare, shouting at him in disapproval. Killian shushes her soothingly, his finger softly stroking along her stupid feathers once more and making her shut her eyes. 

  “She just needed a bit of attention, it seems.” 

  “We’d best be careful,” someone else says, the bookworm who always thinks she knows everything about swan science. Of course, she probably knows more than Swan Emma. “We wouldn’t want her to imprint on you ,” she seems to joke. 

  “That’s quite alright, isn’t it love?” he asks her, essentially giving her permission to fall in love with this handsome bastard. 

  He comes by a few times a week for the next several months, each time sitting with her in her tiny, dirty nest and not seeming to care that his pants get soiled. She’s always careful to do her business elsewhere, making sure that her prince can sit in comfort when he arrives. She gets angry with him when he brings someone new, a sickly looking male named Graham who she assures is not welcome, so Killian gives up trying to get her to mate with someone. For some reason, they're concerned about her procreating, but she can assure everyone that she will not be giving birth to a damn swan baby while she’s under this curse. 

  One day, when Killian visits near the end of his shift, he’s finally alone, leaving behind the dumb one and the book worm and giving her all of the attention she desires as his strong hand softly pets along her soft feathers. She can’t wait to get rid of these stupid feathers. 

  “You’re quite funny,” he remarks as the sun starts to set. “Unlike any swan I’ve ever met.”

  She squawks at him-- I’m not a damn swan-- and he smiles. “Quire the personality. It always seems like you’re trying to communicate with me.” 

  Yes, you stupid handsome man, that’s exactly right! She tries to nod, lifting and dropping her head in quick succession and making the beauty laugh. She nudges her head against his hand in demand of more pets. 

  “What is it you want me to know, darling?” he asks gently, his voice soft and soothing and deep. 

  She groans, a sound that comes out like a pained cry, and his face shifts. “Are you alright, love?” 

  In pure frustration, Emma drops her head against the man’s chest, likely assaulting him with how badly she smells like bird shit, and he chuckles again, letting his hand run along her feathers some more. “There, there. I know life as a swan must be difficult. All you seem to want is for someone to listen.” 

  She looks up, hoping that her expression conveys her complete and utter irritation at the fact that he’s literally hitting the nail on the head and yet he has no idea. 

  “Such a personality,” he says again. “I’ve got to head home now, love. I’m looking forward to having Chinese for dinner. Perhaps I'll bring you an eggroll tomorrow, or is that insensitive?” 

  She squawks, half because she’s laughing, and half because she would quite literally kill another potential mate for an eggroll. Wanting to beg him not to go, she gives him her best sad face through her inability to emote, and nestles her head against his palm one more time. 

  “I’ll sneak you one, love,” he laughs, and as he does, he finally, finally , leans down towards her, and plants his stupid, dumb, lucious lips upon the top of her stinky bird head. 

  Cramps start to run through her whole stupid bird body, the same ones she felt when she was cursed on Halloween decades ago. He stands, not seeming to notice her pain and discomfort until he’s a few steps away, and he turns back around. “Swan, are you alright?” he asks, as if she could answer, and she shouts back at him wordlessly. 

  She praises whatever gods might be listening as she feels things start to change, her feathers shedding as her skin is exposed to the chilly fall air. The webbing between her toes retracts, her legs turning flesh colored rather than that horrifying orange. Her bill turns back into her nose and mouth, preparing her to smooch her savior rather than peck at him. Finally, she’s back!

  “Bloody fucking hell,” Killian breathes as he stares on, Emma transforming back into her old self, laying in a heap on the ground as she brushes off the dirt and twigs and leaves. 

  “You did it,” she praises before clearing her throat, raw from misuse after all these years. She grins at him as she’s been wanting to since they met, and is met with a horrified, shocked look on his face. His jaw is gaping, his eyes wide as they catch the light of the setting sun. “I knew you would.” 

  “What the fuck?” 

  “You broke the curse,” she says happily, standing up and exposing her nude form to him, cursing the lack of feathers although she vowed she never would. Immediately, he removes his jacket, despite his shock still clearly running through him, and hands it to her. 

  “I did what now?”

  “I was cursed. Why do you think I was such a miserable swan?” 

  He’s looking around, his mouth snapping shut and dropping open in succession as he tries to process the fact that there was a swan in the enclosure just a second ago, and now there’s a frankly beautiful, naked woman standing before him. “You were cursed,” he says doubtfully. 

  “Yes, I was. An evil witch cursed me on Halloween decades ago and I've been stuck in that infernal bird form ever since. All I needed was True Love’s Kiss to break it, but imaging trying to fall in love with someone as a damn bird.” 

  “So you… you fell in love… with me…?” 

  “Obviously,” she smiles, taking a step towards him on shaky legs, tripping and falling into his waiting arms as he catches her, careful not to grope her, although she isn’t sure she would mind. “And you broke the curse, so… Do I have to tell you what that means?”

  “I-- I’m having a lot of trouble processing the fact that I've evidently been in love with a swan for months.” 

  “Well, my name is Emma Swan, so you can be in love with a Swan for the rest of your life, if you’d like.” 

  “Emma,” he murmurs, staring into her eyes and smiling when he seems to recognize her. She’s never been able to see herself in the mirror, because the book worm was worried she would attack it, but based on the way he’s staring, she would guess that the evil witch let her keep her eyes. “Do you know it just happens to be Halloween tonight?”

  “Kismet,” she says softly, gazing up at him. He lifts his hand like he did while she was planted in his lap, and she’s finally able to feel his calloused finger along the skin of her cheek, then of her neck, just as he had done before. 

  “Aye,” he agrees. “The spirit of the holiday does make this whole thing a bit easier to accept.” 

  “Yeah,” she says dismissively. “Now take me home. I was promised an eggroll and I haven't eaten anything but grass and stale bread in almost thirty years.”

~~~~

Tagging (with apologies):

@courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @laschatzi @emelizabeth88 @lfh1226-linda @kday426 @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @jrob64 @onceratheart18 @xhookswenchx @winterbaby89 @swampmedusa @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy @love-with-you-i-have-everything @shireness-says @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @ouatpost @daxx04 @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @therooksshiningknight @eeteeaytay @xsajx @itsfridaysomewhere @alexa-fangirl-forever @jonesfandomfanatic @wefoundloveunderthelight @qualitycoffeethings @rapunzelsghosts @spaceconveyor @badcats-andmice @batana54 @sailtoafarawayland @deckerstarblanche @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx @pirateprincessofpizza @captainswan21 @hookedmom @lostintheskyfaraway @undercaffinatednightmare @strangestarlighttree

[hopeymchope]

Au where Saionji goes to Willy Wonka's chocolate factory with Mahiru and she gets stuck in one of the tubes. Cue Ruruka eating blueberry gum, swelling up and turning blue, Kokichi is also Willy Wonka in this AU so when he sees Saionji he smiles and says, "Ew."

I suspect you picked Kokichi as your Wonka because he kind of looks like Johnny Depp's version of the character? He’s got similar hair and that same impish look about him. (By the same token, Ruruka looks rather like the 2005 film's version of Violet Beauregarde. So that fuels my theory on how you cast these parts.)

But I think I want to pitch matching the Charlie and the Chocolate Factory characters to their closest analogs in DR in terms of shared traits and overall personality.

- Kokichi’s not a bad pick for Wonka, frankly. I think I’ll keep him. :) Although Kokichi is clearly the more sinister of the two, they both are pursuing a theoretically positive end goal through bizarrely cruel means that will leave permanent damage on all involved. Hooray...?

- Charlie Bucket is selfless, honest, generous, devoted to his family, and uh, is a good kid who is good. He worries a lot about his family’s poor medical and financial situations, to the point where he starts doing a paper route in the morning before school to assist. Hrm. Well, given that he’s a worrier who overworks himself, maybe this could be a part for Mitarai? Kind of a stretch, but I don’t really know what else to do with this thin-ass protagonist role.

- Grandpa Joe is an old man who is supposedly one of our heroes - an excitable, stubborn guy who is defensive of his grandson and angry when things seem unfair. But I say “supposedly” because the Internet has decided he’s actually a secret douchebag hiding his true nature. So I’m tempted to give this to Tengan. Y’know - for the meme.

- Ruruka Andou becomes Veruca Salt. Obviously! Because Veruca is known for being demanding, spoiled, and utterly entitled. Easiest casting here.

- Mike Teavee is portrayed as having some really violent and destructive tendencies in the 2005 movie and in the more recent Broadway musical. In movie, he just repeatedly breaks and crushes objects for fun, and he likes to scream “Die!” at opponents while playing competitive video games. Whereas in the musical, he’s literally killing animals and attacking adult women for fun — a legit psychopath. In both cases, he’s got a bit of an ego on him that lets him feel like he deserves to do whatever he wants. The Broadway version makes me think Jataro or Korekiyo (or Hiyoko because of the animals), but overall, Mike gives me Masaru Daimon vibes. He’s certainly violent and egotistical enough for the part. So I’m gonna go with Masaru.

- Violet Beauregarde has a different personality in every adaption. The only consistent thing about her is that she chews a lot of gum. 1971 Violet is arrogant, vain, and self-centered — so, Hiyoko? 2005 Violet is overly competitive, kind of rude, and into martial arts — Akane would fit that. And Broadway Violet is a fame-hungry child who is mass-marketed at the behest of one of her parents, often seen in pink. So that one’s best aligned with Kotoko, it seems. It’s really hard to congeal these different Violets into a single character... but if I had to do it, I guess I’d say Junko gets the part. Enoshima is certainly mass-marketed, she’s plenty competitive and nasty to others, 100% self-centered and arrogant.... it’s a decent mix. 

- Augustus Gloop isn’t a character; he’s just a sad, fat-shaming joke with a supposedly comedic accent. He goes down first and has almost no backstory. You might think, then, that I’d pick the Ultimate Imposter to be Augustus, because he’s the fat joke of the DR franchise. But no! Because when I think “character who loves food, dies first, and talks in a way that’s supposed to be funny,” I think Daisaku Bandai. For sure.

Any remaining noteworthy roles are comparatively simple, both in depth and difficulty of casting. Slugworth — aka the rich suit who is seemingly after profit at any cost but secretly is part of a manipulation with overall positive intentions? That’ll be Togami. The singing, dancing, short little race of clones? Monokumas, naturally.

And there you go! We’ve got ourselves a cast for Danganronpa and the Chocolate Factory.

Willy Wonka - Kokichi Ouma

Charlie Bucket - Ryota Mitari

Grandpa Joe Bucket - Kazuo Tengan

Veruca Salt - Ruruka Andou

Violet Beauregarde - Junko Enoshima

Mike Teavee - Masaru Daimon

Augustus Gloop - Daisaku Bandai

Slugworth - Byakuya Togami

Oompa-Loompas - Monokumas

I like it.

It’s interesting that I wound up with so much DR3 representation here. That wasn’t a goal at all. 

[cevans16]

You’re You

Summary: Reader is Hispanic/Latina. Sebastian Stan likes you but hasn’t said anything. It’s a little bit based on this interview in the video below;

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N3NTd3ROMmY 

Sorry it is a bit long! Love you all!!

“So (Y/N), looks like you got moved from your original promo group” the interviewer stated.

“Yes, apparently, the Chris’ and I are too chaotic” you replied

“You got that right, those three are horRIBLE” Anthony Mackie added while elbowing you softly.

You shook your head while smiling and said, “Nooo the thing is that Sebastian is too quiet so they brought me”

“I heard otherwise hahaha” added Winston Duke who was sitting on your right side. 

“What? I am not that quiet” Sebastian said pretending to sound offended.

“So some people uhmmm white people were saying that they don’t want to offend anyone when they do the Wakanda signal” the interviewer said causing the four of you to do the Wakanda motion. 

“Well (Y/N) is Latina and Sebastian is uhhh Romanian” Mackie said

“Right” confirmed Sebastian, you nodded but scrunched your eyebrows in slight confusion

“So that’s different” Mackie added, “I’ll take that” Sebastian replied. Mackie, Winston, and you bursted in laughter

“Sooo what you’re saying Mackie is that Sebastian is.....spicy white?” you asked while laughing so hard you were getting tears in your eyes. 

“Yeah remember when we went to Romania?” Mackie asked you

“Uhh huh and?”

“And every Romanian did the Wakanda thing saying you’re Anthony Mackie right” he replied

“Oh and you got hit on a lot!” he continued

“Who did?” asked the interviewer

“(Y/N)!” Mackie said, the interviewer looked at you.

“Yes, not to sound conceited but I get hit on constantly BUT when I went to Romania....it was something else” you said laughing

“What! Where was I when this happened?” Sebastian asked almost yelling

“It was when (Y/N) and I would go get you guys coffee or hangout”, Mackie said

“I always went with you guys”, Sebastian replied

“Well when YOU didn’t go, she would get hit on, well when I would walk away...sometimes” Mackie explained. Sebastian didn’t say anything else but he looked a little annoyed. 

“So the Romanians loved you” the interviewer said

“Ohhh they sure did. I’m surprised I didn’t return home with one, they were so nice to me and oh my gosh very handsome” you joked

“Well you have one here” Mackie quickly said, motioning to Sebastian. You felt yourself blush, you had always liked Sebastian as more than a friend but never felt like the feelings were reciprocated.

“Yeahhh but I am not Sebastian’s type” you jokingly teased

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sebastian asked rather sternly

“You like the blondes Sebastian” you replied. 

“Ooopp” Mackie and Winston said at the same time. They both had noticed that you and Sebastian liked each other but were too dumb to realize it. 

“I don’t only like blondes” Sebastian said

“Mhmmm you can believe your own lie” you replied

“I think I am more Evans type” you added. Mackie felt Sebastian tense next to him.

“I mean she is not wrong Sebastian” Mackie chuckled.

“Whatever” Sebastian said. 

There was a slight awkward silence until the interviewer asked about how long you had all been in the Marvel franchise, “You and Sebastian have been here the longest right?”

“Hmmmm, I think I came first and then Sebastian” you answered nonchalantly.

“At least he’s a gentleman” Mackie joked

“Shut up” Sebastian said. 

Once the interview was over, the four of you went out for a few drinks. Sebastian was talkative with the boys but not with you, which was weird.

“Are you okay?” you asked him

“Yeah why wouldn’t I be?” he asked

“You’re kind of quiet”

“No I’m not, I’m talking” he said annoyed

“That’s what I mean, what did I do? Because you’re fine with them but apparently not with me” you explained

“Gee I don’t know maybe because you’re not MY type remember” Sebastian gritted. You gasped at his response, you didn’t think he got butt hurt over that comment you had made during the interview. You and Sebastian stared at each other for a few minutes, Mackie and Winston both looked at you two.

“You know Mackie, we should go get a few more drinks” Winston said breaking the silence

“I’ll go get them” you said

“No no, we will” Mackie said in agreement with Winston. 

“I’m sorry if my comment hurt you, which I don’t know why it did” you said.

“Really you don’t know why?” Sebastian scoffed. 

“No I don’t, I wouldn’t have gotten butt hurt over it”

“Whatever, I’m leaving” Sebastian said getting up from his seat but you stopped him.

“NO, I am leaving since you have no problem with the guys”. You grabbed your purse and left with your jacket in hand. 

Winston noticed you leaving, “I don’t think our plan worked Mackie”, Mackie turned to look, you looked sad and you were booking it out the place. Sebastian on the other hand looked pissed.

You walked out of the bar, putting on your jacket and headed back to your hotel. Sebastian had never talked to you in that way, he had always been nice. Your hotel was a bit far but you needed the long walk to clear your head. 

Meanwhile Mackie and Winston were grilling Sebastian about the incident. 

“Nothing happened guys” he said over and over

“Cut the shit Sebs, she looked pretty sad walking out of here” Mackie said.

“We know you like each other” Winston added.

“FINE, I told her that I wasn’t talking to her because she wasn’t my type, I didn’t actually mean that but she did say that earlier so I used it on her” he explained. 

“You’re an idiot” Winston said

“I know” Sebastian replied. 

You were walking for about ten minutes when you heard someone call out your name, you turned to look, it was Mackie.

“Hey! Hold on why are you walking this late?” he asked

“I needed to clear my head, I can’t believe he said that to me” you said almost in tears. 

“Look I know you and him like each other. You need to talk with him about it (Y/N)”

“I tried to and look where I am for doing so Mack”

“You didn’t tell him you liked him though”

“Of course not, I don’t chase men Mackie, plus I meant what I said, I am not his type and I am not changing for someone else”

“He likes you too”

“Oh stop that’s not funny” you said

“He DOES. Think about it, every time we would plan to hang out even if it was just the guys he would invite YOU. Every time we would hang out where would he sit? Beside YOU. Whenever someone would flirt with you or talk about you, he would either get antsy or annoyed, which is funny to see” he said chuckling. You stood there looking at Mackie in shock. 

“Well I won’t say anything until he does and that is not happening” you said. 

“Fine but stop being miserable about it”

“I’m not miserable”

“Okay stop being an ass” he joked with you. “Come on let me walk you, you’re crazy you know, walking out here this late” he said. 

The next morning you walked in late for breakfast since you spent a longer time in the gym to work out your frustrations. You guys were almost done with part of the promo tour before heading to another city. When you walked in, the three were almost finished eating, which was another reason why you took longer, to avoid Sebastian. 

“Good late morning” Mackie said to you

“Good morning guys” you replied. You grabbed your breakfast and headed out since you were planning on checking out a bookstore. You were about to get in your uber when you heard Sebastian call for you

“(Y/N), can we talk?” he asked, you looked at his face, he looked exhausted.

You rolled your eyes, “Fine but I really want to check out this bookstore Sebastian”

“I’ll go, if that’s okay?” he asked

“Okay”.

He held the door open for you to get in. The ride there was quiet, you were looking out your window, trying your best to avoid his gaze. 

You arrived at the bookstore, you immediately headed to the crime genre section. Sebastian walked around for a bit, trying to build his courage in telling you how he felt about you. “Fuck it” he said to himself, he went to where you were, when he found you, you were sitting on the floor, focused deep in a book. He was so in love with you it hurt. 

He sat down next to you, “What” you said but didn’t move your eyes from the book. 

“I’m sorry for what I said last night and I know it’s not an excuse for me saying it but you hurt my feelings when you said you weren’t my type” he said softly

“Okay” you replied. 

“You’re really going to make me work for it huh” he smirked to himself. 

“What?” you asked finally looking at him. 

“That is why I like you. You aren’t my type but you’re YOU (Y/N). You make me feel things that I never have before, it scares the fuck out of me because I know you’ll never hurt me but I don’t ever want to hurt you. And I did last night which I felt so bad about” he said, “I like you because you don’t change yourself for anyone, you’re beautiful, funny, adventurous, you make me feel alive and you’re just you”.

You didn’t know what to say at first, “Sebastian, I’ve liked you for a long time, you scare me because I’m tired of getting hurt by guys, I don’t want to lose you and frankly I know what you go after plus I know I’m the best” you said winking at him.

He chuckled at your last remark, “I can definitely agree with that, now will you agree to go on a date with me? Let’s see where this goes” he asked you.

You looked at him, looking into his eyes for a bit, “Okay, let’s see where it goes”. 

Three years later

“And like a dumbass, he let her walk out” Mackie said on the microphone at yours and Sebastian’s wedding. Sebastian laughed at the comment but he wasn’t wrong about it. “But I am glad that they worked it out because they are just perfect for each other. I want to toast to these two amazing people, I wish them all the happiness in the world, cheers to (Y/N) and Sebastian!” everyone else clapped, you and Sebastian were definitely going to make it. 

[iam93percentstardust]

hey alle, so for the prompts i'd love some cute and funny winteriron with bucky wanting to impress tony with his cooking, but tony being a very picky eater. which leads to a lot of frustration on bucky's side, and obliviousness on what is even going on from tony's. if you feel like it. thank you! <3

Here it is! The long-awaited His Girl FRIDAY remix! I hope you love this as much as I do!

As always, everything I write is on ao3 too

~

The first time Bucky left food in Tony’s workshop and come back to find it untouched, he’d figured it was a fluke. Tony had probably been caught up in a zone—like Steve had warned him about when Bucky had decided he was going to woo Tony with food—and hadn’t noticed the food was even there.

The second time, he made sure to catch Tony’s attention as he was dropping off the plate—lasagna because Natalia had said Tony’s mother was Italian and Bucky made a pretty decent lasagna if he did say so. Tony had glanced at him and then at the plate before turning away with a slightly bewildered frown. Bucky had taken the frown to mean that no one else had ever bothered before to take care of Tony, which was a fact that had just about broken his heart, and left the plate there. He’d gone back later that night to find the lasagna untouched. That had been a little harder to explain away, but he’d eventually decided that maybe Tony was one of those food snobs who only liked Italian food made by actual Italians.

The third time he made oatmeal with a little bit of honey and cream, perfect for someone with as much of a sweet tooth as Tony had, and brought it into the workshop for Tony, who had spent the entire night working on new arrows for Clint.

“Tony?” he called softly, not wanting to startle him. Tony was uncomfortable enough with all the new people moving into the tower after everything with SHIELD and Hydra; being Hydra’s pet assassin, he didn’t want to make it worse by sneaking up on him. “I brought you some breakfast.”

Tony popped up from underneath a table, visibly brightening. “Oh good,” he said cheerfully, making grabby hands at the bowl. “I was just starting to get hungry.” His hair was mussed, two perfect rings of black smeared around his eyes, likely where the goggles currently perched on top of his head had been resting earlier.

Bucky smiled at the adorable display and held out the bowl. Tony eagerly grabbed it, only to blink at it as soon as he saw what was in it.

“Oatmeal?” he asked delicately.

“I thought you’d appreciate having something a little more delicate after not eating for a while,” Bucky explained.

“…Oh.” After another awkward moment, Tony said carefully, “Thanks.”

Satisfied, Bucky left him to his work. This time—this time—Tony would eat it all and then he’d see what an amazing cook Bucky was and how he would absolutely be able to provide for Tony and then he’d swoon into Bucky’s arms and demand that Bucky take him right there.

Okay maybe not right there—the workshop didn’t seem like the best location for amorous activities—but that was why they called it a fantasy, right?

Too bad Tony punctured that fantasy like a balloon.

Bucky went back downstairs long to pick up the bowl after Tony had come up to the common areas, yawning widely and telling everyone he was heading to bed for the next twenty-four hours so don’t bother him unless New York was on fire. It had been a bit of a disappointment that he’d just nodded at Bucky without saying anything about the breakfast or about his everlasting feelings for him, but not nearly as much of a disappointment to walk into the workshop to find the bowl as untouched as all the other meals he’d so painstakingly prepared.

~

“I don’t get it,” he whined to Sam later that day. “I’m a good cook.”

Sam gave him an unimpressed look. “Are you sure? It’s been, what, seventy years since the last time you made anything. Maybe you’re not as good as you used to be.”

Bucky gasped dramatically. “You take that back!”

“No. You promised me you’d offer dating advice with Natasha and instead you’re sitting here mooning over Tony’s ass again so I’ll say whatever I like about your cooking.”

“Sorry,” he muttered guiltily. Sam was right. He had promised that. Or, rather, Steve had promised advice and Bucky had taken one look at him still pining over Peggy and feeling weird about his current interest being Peggy’s niece (a valid way to feel) and declared him hopeless before telling Sam that he would help him out instead. After all, he remembered Natalia from the years she’d spent training with him during her childhood. Who else would be more qualified to teach Sam how to woo her? Well, besides Clint obviously, but he was taking some personal time away from the team.

“She likes the ballet,” he said. “She wanted to be a ballerina when she was younger, said they were as graceful as any Widow only they didn’t have to kill.”

“And you’re sure that won’t just make her sad?” Sam asked dubiously.

Bucky glared at him. “I might not like you very much—” Sam rolled his eyes—"But I like Natalia a whole lot. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. Take her to the ballet and take Steve and Sharon while you’re at it. A double date will help her feel less trapped and maybe Steve will stop moping and ask Sharon out.”

“It’s a little weird, you know.”

“Sure, but he kissed Peggy once and it’s not like he’s ever gonna go back to the war and live out the rest of his time there, so he might as well move on.”

Sam laughed. “Guess that’s true.” He sighed, smile fading away. “I don’t know why Tony’s ignoring your meals. Sorry about that though. It sucks.”

“If I may,” JARVIS cut in. Both of them jumped, though Bucky would deny to his dying day that he yelped. Sam, on the other hand, shrieked like a kid and Bucky reminded himself to go back and access the audio footage so he would have blackmail.

“Sorry, JARVIS,” he apologized. “Keep forgetting you’re up there. Didn’t exactly have AI back during the war.”

“Or even in other houses,” Sam added.

“My apologies,” JARVIS said, and he’ll be damned if JARVIS didn’t sound extremely apologetic. It was incredible, really, how much life Tony imbued in his creations. “I only wanted to offer my advice about Sergeant Barnes’ attempts at wooing Sir.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky asked. “Go right ahead. Can’t be any worse than any of the other advice I’ve gotten.” Seriously, Clint had even suggested truth serum, like that wasn’t the worst idea ever suggested.

“Sir is an extremely picky eater,” JARVIS explained. “He does not enjoy cooked tomatoes, ricotta cheese, or the texture of oatmeal.”

…All of which had been in at least one of the meals he’d prepared for Tony.

“Fuck.”

JARVIS wryly said, “Indeed.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”

“You requested that I remain inactive on your floor while you were recovering. But you’re in Sergeant Wilson’s quarters at the moment so I may share my expertise.”

He had said that, hadn’t he? It had been in the early days when he was still having trouble remembering what he’d said moments earlier, but he had a vague recollection of being overwhelmed by the idea of constant monitoring and asking if JARVIS could be turned off.

“Wow, way to go, Barnes,” Sam commented, hiding a grin behind his hand.

“Fuck,” he said again, more emphatically. “Best tool at my disposal and I’m not even using it. JARVIS, I bet you could tell me all sorts of things about Tony.”

He got the impression that if the AI could sniff, he would have. “I would not dare to air Sir’s ‘dirty laundry’ so to speak.”

“No, no,” Bucky said, waving his metal hand. The hand made a concerning grinding sound and he frowned. That wasn’t supposed to happen. He’d probably need to ask someone to take a look at it. Sam was capable of performing basic maintenance, and Bucky trusted him not to sabotage the arm, but anything worse and he’d have to go ask Tony about it.

“Not what I meant,” he continued. “Just that you could tell me what Tony likes and doesn’t like. Uh, how do I turn you back on in my floor?”

“Your request is sufficient,” JARVIS said.

“Great. I’ll meet you up there in a bit. We’re gonna make something so incredible Tony will have to fall in love with me.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Sam said, kicking his feet up onto the newly vacated spot on the couch now that Bucky was standing. “I’m going to see if I can find reasonably priced tickets to the ballet.”

Bucky blinked. “I think you’re gonna have worse luck than me.”

Sam threw a shoe at him.

~

On JARVIS’ advice, he baked blueberry muffins because those were apparently Tony’s favorite fruit. Bucky didn’t really understand it. Frankly, he thought blueberries were almost as bad as bananas—nasty, taste-changing fruit that they were—but if Tony loved them, then he would be willing to have them in his kitchen for as long as it took to bake the muffins. Fortunately, he was just as good a baker as he was a cook, so it was a breeze to whip up a delicious batch that had him grateful he couldn’t get salmonella from the mix.

Unfortunately, Tony hated the muffins. Or that’s what Bucky gathered when he went to pick the plate up, hoping that it would be empty for the first time, and found it just as untouched as everything else had been.

“What the fuck, JARVIS?” he complained. “You said he liked blueberries.”

“I don’t know, Sergeant Barnes,” JARVIS said, sounding as baffled as Bucky felt. “Sir has always appreciated them.”

That, Bucky reflected later that night, was possibly to be expected. For all that JARVIS had the inhuman ability to remember literally everything he’d ever seen or heard, he was still just a program. He couldn’t necessarily extrapolate about preferences or tastes. For all either of them knew, Tony did like blueberries but didn’t like muffins or something. It didn’t really explain why JARVIS knew that Tony didn’t like cooked tomatoes, but maybe that could be explained by Tony mentioning it out loud and the other stuff, JARVIS had had to figure out on his own.

He sat up in bed, thinking about it. Maybe that was it: Tony didn’t like muffins. But there had to be other recipes out there that used blueberries that Tony would like. In fact, he was pretty sure he’d come across a blueberry cupcake with brown butter frosting recipe earlier that day. And Bucky didn’t know anyone who could say no to his brown butter. He was incredible at it, and that was being modest. Just the other day, Thor had declared the brown butter sauce he’d made for their chicken to be worthy of an Asgardian feast. Thor was a god. He probably knew things like that.

“JARVIS, you up?” he asked into the dark room.

“Always, Sergeant Barnes.”

“You don’t gotta keep callin’ me that. Bucky’s my name. I’d rather answer to that.”

“Very well, Bucky.”

“Could you pull up some other recipes with blueberries in the flavor profile please? Filter out anything that has something Tony doesn’t like and recipes similar enough to each other that they could be repeats, uh, let’s say anything with a higher than 85% similarity.”

When JARVIS was finished compiling his list, there was a lot less than what Bucky had hoped for, but it was still something he could work with. He looked through the list: cupcakes, pancakes, cookies, more than a few salads, something called a Panzanella. He starred the ones he thought would catch Tony’s interest the most, putting the others aside to possibly try later down the road. Content with his plan, he laid back down, falling asleep within seconds of his head hitting the pillow.

~

None of it worked. Despite his supposed love for blueberries, Tony continued to turn away everything Bucky made for him. So he branched out, trying other foods that JARVIS said Tony was fond of. Nothing came back with more than a couple bites taken out of it and Tony had taken to giving him worried looks every time he appeared at the workshop door with another plate. Bucky was starting to lose hope that he was ever going to woo Tony with food and that was… not great.

Traditional dates were pretty close to impossible. Despite his rapid recovery in the tower, going outside was still too frightening with the crowds of New York, the inability to pick out threats around him, and the lack of sightlines all driving Bucky back inside and to the highest floors of the tower where he could look out over everything.

And as for anything else, well, Bucky was an ex-brainwashed assassin with no money to his name and only half the social skills he used to have (Sam said he had more than he thought but arguing with Sam wasn’t like trying to get someone to like him). He didn’t have much else to offer other than making food and giving Tony a project to work on. The first wasn’t going well and the second made Bucky feel too much like he was taking advantage of Tony to use more than once or twice.

Disheartened, he made his way up to Natalia’s floor to ask her for advice. She and Tony got along almost as well as she got along with Clint. Maybe she would have insights that JARVIS wasn’t able to offer. As he neared her room, though, he realized that she wasn’t alone.

“—to kill me,” someone—Tony, Bucky realized almost immediately—was saying. He stiffened. Who was trying to kill Tony? Bucky would kill them first! Was murder a good way to woo Tony?

“котенок,” Natalia said patiently, “he’s not trying to kill you.”

“You don’t know that!” Tony exclaimed wildly. He sounded like he was pacing. “He could be! He keeps bringing me things everyone knows I won’t eat.”

And now Natalia sounded amused as she said, “Antoshka, I don’t think he’d be trying to feed you if he wanted to kill you. It’s more likely an honest mistake.”

“It could be poison.”

“It’s not poison.”

“You don’t know that. You haven’t tried any of it.”

“It’s not poison because that’s more my style than it is James’.”

Oh, they were talking about him. Tony thought Bucky was trying to kill him. “Fuck,” he said mournfully, leaning up against the wall. No wonder Tony wouldn’t touch any of the food he made for him.

“Well, I don’t see why else he’s bringing me food!” Tony said.

“Really? Not a single reason?”

“It’s food I won’t eat! He clearly doesn’t like me or he’d be bringing me actual food I like.”

“Does he know why you won’t eat it?”

“No, but why does that matter?”

“Tony, darling, have you ever once informed him that you have a sensory processing disorder and you won’t eat a lot of cooked foods because you can’t handle the texture?”

Bucky straightened back up. Tony has a what? He’d never even heard of that before. Why didn’t JARVIS say something? He thought back to when he’d been building the list of blueberry foods and how he’d wondered if JARVIS didn’t necessarily know about the pattern for Tony’s likes and dislikes in his food. Maybe JARVIS hadn’t known about Tony’s disorder, so he hadn’t known to tell Bucky about it. That made the most amount of sense to him though he couldn’t imagine why Tony had never told his AI about his disorder.

“Why would I tell him that?” Tony asks, sounding confused.

He could just picture Natalia shaking her head as she said, “Oh, Antoshka.”

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Armed with his new knowledge, Bucky crept away from the door, already planning out new meals to bring to Tony.

~

That very night, he went downstairs with a bowl of salad. It had nuts to provide a small amount of protein, though he’d also put some baked chicken in a Tupperware as well, in case that was something Tony could eat. Tony’s music was playing at a manageable volume by the time he got to the workshop, likely because he was drafting plans for some sort of irrigation system, rather than any sort of consideration for Bucky.

Tony caught sight of him before he got the doors open. Bucky watched as his face fell for a moment before he plastered on a bright, fake smile. Hydra’s programming was still too ingrained in him to do anything as obvious as wince, but he still felt a twinge of shame. Why hadn’t he thought to ask Tony what he would like to eat instead of relying on his own preferences?

“Uh,” he said, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. In his other hand, he held up the Tupperware with the salad bowl on top of it. “I brought you some dinner. It’s just a salad, but I included some baked chicken on the side if you want that. I hope it’s something you like.”

Tony blinked at him. “What?”

“I—okay, I’m just gonna come right out and say it. I overheard you and Natalia earlier. I didn’t know you couldn’t eat anything I was making for you. I wasn’t trying to poison you or anything, just thought you might like some food since you’re down here all the time. Sorry for, you know, eavesdropping and making you think I didn’t like you.”

A cautious smile spread across Tony’s face. “You could have asked JARVIS,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, I did, but I guess he didn’t know you don’t like cooked foods.”

“What?” Tony cocked his head to the side. “No, he should know that.” He spun around in his chair, waving the glowing blue drafts of the irrigation system aside in favor of pulling up JARVIS’ bright golden code. It was a beautiful display, and Bucky found himself moving closer, mesmerized by the sight. He had no idea JARVIS’ code was so complex.

“J, buddy, what happened to your code?” Tony murmured. He reached out a hand, groping for Bucky’s shirt to tug him closer. “Gimme food.”

“So you like salad?” Bucky asked, relieved that he’d finally found something.

“And baked chicken,” Tony added. “But it has to be baked. Otherwise, the texture’s too rubbery for me.”

“I can do that,” he promised. “Do you like breading or marinade with the baked chicken?”

“Marinade, yes. Breading, no.”

“Okay. I’ll remember that.”

Tony paused in tearing through JARVIS’ code to give him a small, genuine smile that made Bucky’s heart light up. He returned the smile, which grew bigger when Tony’s gaze darted down to his lips, snagging there as though caught by the sight. He knew he had a nice mouth; he’d been told that plenty of times back in the forties.

“I have another confession to make,” he said once Tony’s attention returned to the code.

“Uh-huh,” Tony said distractedly.

“I was—”

“There you are!” Tony exclaimed. “J, who made those changes to lines 894 through 1036 in your code?”

JARVIS immediately said, “The last time those lines were accessed was in 2008 by Obadiah Stane.”

Tony’s face fell. “Oh.”

It took Bucky a moment remember who Obadiah Stane was. He’d appeared in one of Bucky’s mission files as the Winter Soldier. Back during the nineties, following Tony’s parents deaths, Tony had been planning on shutting down SI’s weapons manufacturing division. Hydra, who’d been buying black market weapons from Stane for years by that time, had ordered the Winter Soldier to assassinate Tony to give Stane complete control of the company. But before he’d been able to complete his mission, Stane had convinced Tony to see “reason” and Bucky had been put back in cryo. That unfulfilled mission had been one of the reasons he’d been so hesitant to move into the tower before his programming had been completely removed. Steve had tried to push for the move anyway, but before either of them could successfully argue the point, Tony had put out a call to the world’s top experts on brainwashing and three whirlwind weeks later, Bucky’s mind was programming-free. And just like that, without even meeting the guy, Bucky had developed a crush on one Tony Stark.

“Sorry, doll,” he said, dropping a hand to Tony’s shoulder and squeezing it gently.

Tony sighed frustratedly. “Every time I think I’ve taken care of everything Obie fucked up, I find something else he’s done. He was probably hoping I’d starve to death or something without anyone making food to my exacting specifications, that asshole.”

“He sounds pretty terrible,” Bucky agreed.

“J, are you able to access the last backup on those lines to restore them?” Tony asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay, let’s get those fixed, and uh—”

“And we’ll go out for dinner,” Bucky interrupted.

“Huh?” Tony asked, turning to look at him.

“Seems I owe you an apology and I figure taking you out for dinner is a little nicer than a salad. ‘Sides, if I take you out, I’ll have a better understanding of what you like to eat.”

“Careful there, Buckaroo, or I’ll start thinking this is supposed to be a date.”

Bucky would probably never know what possessed him to firmly say, “Yeah, that’s exactly what it’s supposed to be.” He certainly hadn’t planned to. He really had been planning on their dinner being a way to figure out what Tony liked so he could make it himself and continue with his wooing process from there, hopefully slowly easing Tony into believing that Bucky really did like him and wasn’t trying to poison him.

“Sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “That wasn’t supposed to come out like that.”

Tony stared at him, then abruptly said, “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“That this is supposed to be a date.”

He could deny it and go back to his original plan. He’d probably even be able to pull off a lie like that. But there was a hopeful look in Tony’s eyes that stopped him from denying anything.

“You didn’t even know that I liked you until five minutes ago,” he pointed out cautiously.

Tony scoffed. “What, like you’ve never liked someone who hated you.”

“Uh, no. I’ve never done that.”

“Really?”

“Never.”

“Huh.”

“Are you… are you saying that you do like me?” Bucky asked.

“Well, yeah. You never mind that half of my engineering babble goes over your head and you bring me food even if you didn’t know it wasn’t something I could eat and you’re really fucking gorgeous when you’ve showered and your hair isn’t falling in greasy clumps around your face.”

“Look who’s talking,” Bucky said amusedly, reaching out to run his fingers through Tony’s hair, matted down with machine oil. Even filthy, he could feel how soft it would be when it was clean. Tony leaned into his hand, humming happily.

“So is that a yes on this being a date, Bucky babe?” Tony asked. “Cause I’ll be honest, I’m not usually left hanging.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, nodding. “It’s a date.”

Tony grinned and turned his head just enough to kiss the inside of Bucky’s wrist, making Bucky shiver. “Let me get cleaned up.”

“You want me to join you?”

Tony winked at him. “Next time, honey.”

[spacewizardtrek]

WARNING: This post will ruin you. Like Medusa; look at your peril.

But here is is. It’s the one you’ve all been waiting for.

Kirk bod appreciation #7: The RIDICULOUSLY BEAUTIFUL FACE. A highly technical and academic review.

This is a rather nebulous one. And not, on the face of it (pardon the pun) very philosophical, as it’s essentially about Kirk being stupidly pretty. This post probably will (it will) descend into just screaming and sobbing, but there will be, I promise, *some* meaningful insight into the meaning of ‘beauty’ and textual analysis of its role herein.

Beauty is subjective. But look at him. It’s not just being aesthetic, but it’s the *way* he’s aesthetic. Here I might repeat myself a bit, but stay with me. I may have mentioned before once hearing him described as ‘beautiful in the way women are often described as beautiful’. He is PRETTY. He is indeed often conveyed in the way the women stereotypically (not necessarily rightly) are on screen: perfect, smooth skin; soft, big eyes; luscious lips (his body is sensually curvaceous and furthermore it’s emphasised). He’s not androgynous though. He’s masculine. And yet I still sense what was meant in describing him as ‘beautiful in the way women are often described as beautiful’. He is a rather uncommon form of gender fuckery. He is a form of stereotype-subversion not commonly acknowledged. He seems to be everything at once, ALL THE GENDER; combines whichever traits he desires from those categories, and yet is undeniably a man and masculine whatever the ingredients. HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE, one might wonder. The fact of the matter is, that it IS. And it teaches us something.

The FUCK. nO. You are not allowed to be that pretty, and you are NOT allowed to look at her like that. We’re trying to have a SENSIBLE DISCUSSION here.

Sorry, that was a non-sequitur / nothing to do with what we learn by Kirk’s embodiment; I was just ambushed by my own gif. Only the control of a Vulcan. ONLY that could possibly withstand this onslaught. And even that won’t hold up forever AS WE WELL KNOW

God.

This is going well, as you can tell.

OK. So, it’s claimed he has Eyes and Stupidly Long Weakness-Inducing Eyelashes. You know, from all that fanfic that goes on about ‘big, sparkling eyes’ and him fanning his ‘long, copper eyelashes’. I mean, yeah right, tropey mc tropeface -

IT’S TRUE. HE IS LITERALLY AN ANIME PRINCESS.

There are some moments where he just BLINKS and, how to describe it...how does a BLINK have that effect. It’s NOT ALLOWED.

...I’m sorry. It IS allowed. All of it. I am not shaming you your beauty. Never change, Jim. Never.

OK. I’m ok. 3 pics down, we can get through this -

Oh you are joking. Stop.

I don’t understand how anyone can be so beautiful. Life is a lie. Reality is fake -

- you did NOT just turn your big anime eyes on Spock. You do know this is why he ran away to PURGE ALL HIS EMOTIONS?

And for that matter, you know when Kirk looks his most beautiful? Literally WHEN HE’S LOOKING AT SPOCK. Spock talks some bollocks and Kirk just sparkles like a fucking angel:

Unbelievable. But utterly undeniable.

Sigh. Moving on.

Oh - someone once suggested I talk about The Lips. Lips are so wonderful aren’t they. So many wonderful things they can do.

And Kirk’s. They’re there in every picture: perfect, rosy, soft and madness-inducing. My advice is just...don’t think about them. But since I’ve been asked to draw attention to them, well, you’ve just sealed your fate. Scroll down at your peril.

I WARNED YOU.

I am pulling NO punches.

I’ve seen this great meme going around:

Excuse me though....CUTE?

That’s the understatement of the 23rd century.

Try impossibly beautiful, mind and body: heart of solid gold, soul deep in love with you. Those eyes and all their passion burned into your memories a thousand times over, along with - maybe, suggestibly, idk I’m extrapolating from all the goddamn tension - even the one unforgettable time he laid between lily-white sheets and gave himself to you; every gift of the mind, body and soul - and your ostensibly-forced Vulcan conditioning, that completely ignored how incompatible one part of you was with it, caused so much dissonance that you thought the only possible course of action for you both to survive was to BREAK UP, tear yourself from this beauty and love and sweetness to PURGE ALL EMOTIONS because nothing, nothing equipped you for this; you were set up specifically to fail, and fail hard in the face of transcendental love and beauty by those who rejected such things and didn’t understand you and could never imagine this for you and who instead of helping your beautiful neurodivergent brain flourish taught you to repress and caused you pain and shame and Gol was so hard and Kirk was so sad, so very sad and depressed and hurt and yet he couldn’t stop loving you with a bond so strong he called to you across the stars and Gol was all for naught yet you still didn’t know how to live like this, it was torture, torture until the mind meld with the living machine flashed your BIOS and you knew, love.exe was suddenly running with no errors and he came after you and held you and you held hands and, and -

.

*sobbing*

.

just...give me a moment

.

YOU WONDER WHAT THE SUBTEXT (FRIKKIN’ MAIN TEXT) OF STAR TREK: THE MOTION PICTURE WAS ALL ABOUT???

The pain?? The angst?? The two logical entities seeking contact, love, THIS SIMPLE FEELING? That fucking moment when spock walks on the bridge and the only way he can control himself is to be SUPER Vulcan, while his love gazes at him with those EYES, fucking huge and glittering and hurt and loving?? Is it so much a mystery what memories these two are carrying, what’s behind the searing tension???????

Love him. Love him Spock. Take him in your arms and love him. He’s for you. All for you. Fucking hell guys. The fuck. This movie.

.

ok.

ok I can do this

CAN U NOT

those damn eyes I swear

It’s obviously not all just superficial physical beauty. What IS beauty? Narratively we do sometimes find this ‘prettiness’ enhanced and emphasized like the old vaseline lens to set the tone of a scene (he’s vulnerable and delicate, or someone’s indeed in love with him so we see their ‘lens’ on him); but it is somewhat intangible and nebulous and changeable. I don’t think aesthetic beauty, if one deems it so, on its own, would be enough for the likes of Spock (indeed, no woman could charm him thusly); it's about something deeper. It’s about who he is. Who he is inside: the beautiful AND the imperfect. How his good and bad - how his ‘all’ -  chimes with Spock’s 'all’. The Enemy Within deals with this, and shows how Spock loves all of Kirk, wants him complete, with both his light and shadow. The beauty of all of us is this totality and variance, not one intangible quality.

I’ll bet Spock’s parents knew immediately. Can you imagine Sarek trying to be a total bitch over Kirk, having heard the rumours and just wanting to have one more thing to reject Spock over, immediately projecting onto Kirk as some blow-up pretty-boy and how Incredibly More Disappointing My Son Is for being Obviously In Love With Stupid Illogical Human Doll Face Bubble Butt Bimbo Captain, and Amanda’s like, stfu, let me remind you Kirk is actually a Fucking Amazing Highly Decorated Starship Captain who Saves Your Life and don’t you DARE resent him just because he’s got tits/ass/tum/lips that won’t quit and is obviously the freakin’ sun Spock orbits. Mr ‘I married a human but that was special because it was logical’ or some bullshit. How is Kirk an illogical choice? I mean literally, Spock is a Science Genius™ on the federation’s FLAGSHIP whose well-matched Genius Captain™ understands him, accepts him, brings the best out of him, helps him fulfil his whole potential and is in love with him in the deepest and purest way and will be his bonded soulmate for ALL OF TIME and that fucking sour-faced bih at the start of that ep, ffs.

Of course Amanda stays in touch with Kirk, adores the fuck out of him, sends him old Vulcan lit on t’hy’la bonds (yes sarek, a T’HY’LA bond, so revered freakin’ poets write about it) etc because frankly her son could do FAR FUCKING WORSE.

FAR. FUCKING. WORSE.

Don’t...just don’t slip the bod into the equation, the face is enough for one post. We’re all in therapy for this already, let’s not relapse.

Oh, what’s the use. I’m gonna die. This is it. This is like the Monty Python joke that is so funny it kills you. This man is lethal. I need to stop this thread and purge all my emotions

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

That’s it. I’m dead. You’re dead. We’re all dead.

I hope, however, seeing this post was worth it. See you at Gol everyone.

.

.

The Forbidden Texts, DO NOT READ:

Kirk bod appreciation #6: The Curves. The Front. The...chest. AND THE AMAZING GREEN WRAP

Kirk bod appreciation #5: The Paws

Kirk bod appreciation #4: The Curves. The Back. Poetry in motion.  

Kirk bod appreciation #3: Season 3 (Part 1)

Kirk bod appreciation #2b: The Gluteus Maximus

Kirk bod appreciation #2a: The Gluteus Maximus

Kirk bod appreciation #1: The Tum

[yourfaceislikeabluemoon]

Suspicious With A Side Of Concern

Words: 3.9k

Warning: a little cursing and a tad bit of suggestive themes. seriously, just a smidge. this is v mild and v soft

A/N: uhh hi there 😊 it's been awhile heh but it's San's birthday (one of my ults) and I managed to write this! it's probably not that great and it's not edited (bc it's after 5AM 👍🏻) so I'm sorry if it sucks or is full of mistakes, I may come back to it and fix them if there's a lot. but uhh yeah! I love my sweet boy so much and I'm so proud of him and I'm feeling v mushy lately hehe 🤭 and yeah, yeah, I know I’m not funny but I make myself laugh and that’s all that matters right? lol also this is pretty self-indulgent (hmm I’m noticing a theme in my recent works haha) but I hope you enjoy it anyways! happy birthday Sannie!!! I love you to the moon and back ❤️❤️❤️

San was suspicious. And a little concerned, too. The kind of 'suspicious with a side of concern' that can make feelings of offense and being forgotten crop up. In other words: not good. And what time could be worse to feel 'not good' than the days leading up to your birthday?

OK, so that clearly was not your intention when you had initially conjured up your plan for your, frankly, rather significant and audacious gift for San's birthday this year. Typically, you go all out with anything you get or do for San because he's just fun to spoil like that. Like in past years, you'd taken him on mini vacations or got him lots of small gifts and gave them to him over a period of a few days. And you always spent the entire week celebrating, not just the day of. So, logically, if you had actually formed a plan instead of just devising the end result of said non-existent plan, maybe you would have thought of how San might react to things being so different than years past. But 'foresight', what's that?

When you noticed San was more moody and petulant than usual, you tried your best to make things seem as normal as possible, not wanting him to catch on to your surprise. You had found him pouting at the kitchen table late one night, a few days before his birthday. "Sannie, baby. It's three in the morning, is everything OK?"

"Are you mad at me?" he blurted out unexpectedly, not answering your question. When he saw your confused expression, he continued, "I mean, did I do something wrong? Something to upset you? I swear it wasn't intentional and I'm sorry that I don't know what it is. I-"

"Of course not, babe!" you cut him off, "I was just worried because I rolled over in bed and you weren't there when I tried to cuddle up to you. But what makes you think that I'm mad at you, lovebug?"

You slid into the seat next to him as he sighed deeply. "I don't know, I just… God! This is gonna sound so stupid and selfish and spoiled!" Taking his hand in yours to silently reassure him, you squeezed his fingers slightly and softly rubbed your thumb along his knuckles. He took a deep breath before he tried to explain himself, "Umm, this whole week has been different than other years? Like, usually we do lots of stuff for my birthday and this year we haven't done much of anything and I'm not complaining because it's not that I expect a lot of presents or a vacation or something and I haven't said anything because I don't want to sound spoiled or like I think I'm entitled to a lot of big, expensive things, it's just that I'm not used to it I guess and I think it's making me feel like I did something wrong to upset you so you aren't treating me like you usually do as some sort of punishment, not that I think you'd actually do that to me because you're the sweetest thing in the world and I know you love me and I love you so much and I just-" San let out a frustrated groan and dropped his head to the table with a loud thud. He sighed again and lowered his voice to almost a whisper, "That did not come out like how I wanted it to."

The gears in your head were turning as you stared fondly at your boyfriend, a small, sad smile curving your lips. You felt horrible that San thought you were upset with him because, after all, that's the last thing you want. San and his happiness and contentment is the most important thing in your life. You also weren't sure how you were going to explain yourself without revealing the secret you were working so hard to conceal. Winging it seemed like the best option at the time since you could tell San was getting antsy about your silence.

"Sannie, can you look at me, please?" you began. When he lifted his head, your eyes found each other's, while your empty hand searched for his. "I'm so sorry that I made you feel like I'm mad at you! I promise you that I'm not even the slightest bit upset with you. You did absolutely nothing wrong -- you're perfect, baby." Releasing one of San's hands, you reached up to gently push away some stray hairs that had fallen into his eyes before running your fingertips across his pretty cheekbone. "You should know that none of what you said sounded stupid or selfish or spoiled. We've built up a sort of routine and a sudden change to that can be kind of disorienting. You have every right to be confused and I'm not going to make up excuses for how different things have been the past few days, I won't do that to you. In all honesty, I've been preoccupied and a little distracted. But I'm sorry that I let that get in the way and I promise that it won't happen anymore. And I'm so sorry that I've already made this your suckiest birthday ever and it's not even your actual birthday yet! That's definitely a new record for me, ruining something before it even happens." You mumbled the last part, ashamed at yourself and silently hoping San wouldn't hear that bit.

He let out a small chuckle that sounded much closer to normal San, easing your worry slightly. "It's not sucky and you didn't ruin anything, which by the way, you know I don't like when you put yourself down like that," the evident pout in his voice faintly reddened your cheeks with embarrassment despite the fact that he wasn't even scolding you. You whispered a quiet apology and San brought your left hand up to place a kiss on your knuckles. "You said you're preoccupied and distracted but I'm not going to press because I know you'll tell me when you're ready." When you thanked him, he tilted his head and looked at you with pure adoration and you felt his gaze travel over the planes of your face. "Thank you for understanding me, even when my words are messier than all us boys in white shirts eating wings with no napkins."

Trying, and failing to keep a straight face, the two of you dissolved into fits of giggles. "I thought you were going to be romantic or something but you said that and-" you cut yourself off with another loud laugh and shook your head, smiling endearingly. "I love you, cutie! But you're saying weird things so I think we should head to bed. Not that sleep will actually help you but we can always try." San shoved your shoulder as you stood before scooping you up in his arms and peppered kisses all over your face.

San had been in a great mood the morning of his birthday, considering he had woken up to you bustling about the kitchen making his favorite breakfast while wearing nothing but his oversized t-shirt. Strong arms and the frigid tip of San's nose against the junction between your neck and shoulder startled you, causing you to drop the spatula in your hand. He giggled softly at the small squeak you let out in surprise and squeezed you a little more snugly into his broad chest. "Mornin'," he mumbled against your skin.

"Hi," you chuckled as you shrugged him off to bend down to pick up the utensil that had fallen on the floor. You knew he was pouting when he had to let go of you and you could easily imagine the smirk that made its way onto his handsome face as he came up with his next idea, smacking your ass before you stood back up to place the dirty spatula in the sink.

You gasped in false offense, "How dare you!"

"Well, when you look like…" San gestured at you, his stare sleepy but very interested, "That, can you blame me?"

"I most certainly can! No 'Good morning! Happy Birthday!' kiss for you, mister!"

The pout returned to his face and damn, you're really weak for that pout. You sighed exasperatedly and threw your arms around his neck. "Good morning! Happy Birthday!" you announced with feigned emotion before pecking him on the lips and making an attempt to return your attention to breakfast. San had other ideas. He let out a sort of growl before effortlessly tossing you over his shoulder and strutting back towards your bedroom. "Wait!" you shouted weakly on account of San's shoulder uncomfortably pressed against your diaphragm, "Breakfast is gonna burn!" He paused in his stride, seemingly to try to decide on what to do, before turning and rushing to the stove to switch it off and then made a beeline for the mess of pillows and blankets he had left only moments before.

That afternoon, San was sprawled out on the sofa, a dreadfully bored look etched into his features as he flipped through the channels. Finding nothing to watch, he switched off the TV and turned to stare at the ceiling. The oscillating fan sat on the small end table next to the couch ruffled his hair and thoughtfully provided an awful high-pitched squealing sound as background noise for the otherwise quiet living room. Nervously staring at the clock on your phone while draped over a chair opposite the couch, your mind was racing to come up with an excuse for leaving the house a few minutes later. You had an appointment to keep aka "The Plan". Making a disgruntled noise, you pushed yourself out of your seat and made a command decision on what to say, "Uhh, I'm gonna go to the store to pick up some stuff for umm, for later." Failing miserably at sounding natural, you gestured toward the door and faced it.

"Ooh!" San shouted and you heard rustling like he was getting off the couch. "Let me come! I'm so bored."

You couldn't help the mischief that made itself evident over your features as you turned back around. "But coming along will spoil the surprise, don't you think?" Pleading puppy dog eyes and his cutest pout decorated San's face in response. "Nuh uh, not even that will work on me today!"

Sam's expression morphed into a combination of astonishment and amazement as he plopped back down onto the sofa, "Shit, this is serious if not even the pout can sway you!"

You nodded ruefully, "It's a special day."

Ping! A message came through on your group chat with the boys, made specifically for this plan and thus excluding San, and when you went to read it, you heard San mumble under his breath but couldn't quite make out what he said.

Joong-bug: outside with Woo! let's goooooo!!

Several more text alerts sounded off and San eyed you suspiciously.

Woo 🐻: C'MON I'M SO EXCITED!!!!!!!! Joong-bug: aaaaaand this is why he's forbidden contact with 'The Target' until 'The Plan' is complete… You: Be down in a minute! Joong-bug: hurry up!! he won't stop whining and pouting 😣 Mingo Mango: getin' ready 2 bust the door down now 😈 You: Jongho, I'm trusting you to keep them from breaking things Hulk 🍎: You have my word 👍 Yeo-Yeo: Pfffft like that means anything 😒 Y'know: hey, i asked you to chop vegetables!! why are you on your phone?? 😡 Yeo-Yeo: You're on yours! Mars: ……….help

Suddenly, you could hear two rather loud voices outside, gradually getting louder as they made their way to your front door. "Ah, you're in luck, sweetpea! Here comes your entertainment now!" Without giving Mingi the opportunity to "bust the door down", you quickly threw it open and in he stumbled with Jongho trailing more gracefully behind him, chuckling. San's face lit up in excitement and he bounced gleefully over to his friends. Mingi shouted something about playing ball and San whooped in agreement, causing you to chuckle fondly as you snuck out the door they had just come through since your boyfriend was already well and truly distracted.

Hongjoong and Wooyoung quickly came into view as you made your way down the last of the stairs, the younger hopping around like an over-excited bunny when he spotted you. He called your name loudly and ran to squeeze you and consequently hang off of you, grin bright and eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "Hi there, bear," you giggled and squeezed him back before turning to Hongjoong. "You said he was whiny but you didn't mention he was extra clingy, too." No hint of annoyance in your voice, Wooyoung nuzzled into your shoulder and sighed happily.

Hongjoong shrugged, smiling affectionately at the younger, "I thought it was to be expected."

"It is a little hot for cuddles though, Woo," you told Wooyoung honestly and he nodded in agreement, letting go and scurried towards the parked car, screeching about being late. Hongjoong shook his head as he watched Wooyoung abruptly fling the door open and sit in the passenger seat, eagerly bouncing in place and urging the two of you to hurry up. "Everything all set?" you asked the older as you walked side by side to the car.

Rascality twinkled in Hongjoong's eyes, "Yep! All the stuff is either in the back seat or the trunk, ready to go!" You smiled and scrunched your nose at him before you both joined Wooyoung in the car and headed off to your destination.

A couple hours later, the three of you returned to your house, San's birthday gift sat on the back seat next to you. Wooyoung was animatedly squirming in his seat, teeth clenched together in a wide grin in an effort to suppress his squeals of joy. "Good grief, Woo! It's gonna be somewhat of a let down if you're more excited about this than San ends up being," you teased him fondly, reaching for your phone to get updates from the group chat.

You: We're back!! 🤭 Yeo-Yeo: Lemme guess, Woo's about to piss himself from excitement You: 😂 correct. Update on 'the Target'? Hulk 🍎: 'The Target' is about to get in the shower, Mingi and I will head down now Y'know: you can't just leave him!! you gotta at least give an excuse!! Hulk 🍎: You can't see me but I'm rolling my eyes right now. Mingi told him we're going home to shower, which isn't an excuse, it's the truth. We'll just jump in with everyone later 👌 Y'know: you didn't give anything away did you??!! Hulk 🍎: 😒 yes. We told him every detail. Of course we didn't! Mingo Mango: all good! we made it seem like we were leaving 4 the night! told him happy bday and everything 😉 Y'know: … :/ … You: … I'm slightly concerned but alright. How's 'The Plan'? Yeo-Yeo: Yunho is worried out of his mind now but we're cool, just waiting on the cue Mingo Mango: you mean the Q 😉👍 Hulk 🍎: He tripped down a few stairs while he was typing that ^ Yeo-Yeo: 🖕 (deserved) You: Hwa? Still have your sanity? Mars: *sigh* … barely You: You replied so I'm courageously going to take that as a positive. You guys can head over as soon as Jongho and Mingi are ready. I'll text when it's good to come up. Yeo-Yeo: OK Y'know: k Mars: yes

Laughing at their insanity and tucking your phone away, you glanced up to find Mingi and Jongho walking towards the car so you got out and attempted to get a little more information. "You guys have fun?" you asked, smiling warmly.

The boys beamed and nodded. "Lots!" Mingi stated, bouncing on his toes energetically.

"San seemed really happy so that felt," Jongho paused and rubbed at the back of his neck, "Nice." You felt your heart squeeze a little, knowing just how much San loved and valued the boys no matter what. "And we didn't break anything, just like I promised!" Jongho added proudly, puffing out his chest a little.

You ruffled his hair fondly before yanking your hand away in disgust, "Ick! So sweaty! Go shower! I'll see you two in a bit." The youngest laughed brightly and gave you a wave before heading off with Mingi offering a salute and stumbling after him. Making your way around the car, you opened the car door and gathered the gift into your arms. "I owe you two," you smiled and Hongjoong shook his head and chuckled. "Thank you!" Wooyoung giggled as you resituated the present in your grasp. "Don't forget the rest of the stuff when you come up later, please!" Hongjoong gave you a thumbs up and you shut the door with your hip before making your way up to give your boyfriend his surprise.

Unlocking the door and being as quiet as possible entering the house in an effort to sneak up on San was quite difficult but you managed. Luckily, he had his back to you, actually sitting normally in a chair for once and humming softly to himself. Stifling a giggle with your hand, you brought everything inside and shut the door, impressed with yourself at how quiet you were and hoped the gift would be just as silent. Slipping your shoes off to avoid more noise, you took one gift in each hand and tiptoed toward San.

You instinctively held your breath as you neared your boyfriend and tried not to squeal or giggle. In that moment, you definitely felt Wooyoung's enthusiasm. Right hand gently setting one gift on the top of San's head and left hand reaching around the phone in his hands to place the other present in his lap, you heard him gasp in shock. "Happy Birthday, sugarplum!"

The small kitten on San's head let out a tiny squeak of a meow and the puppy in his lap timidly licked at his arm. San tried to say something but all that came out was broken words and stutters. He reached up to pluck the kitten from his head and you helped untangle a strand of his hair from the kitten's tiny claws before he set it next to the puppy on his lap and turned part way around to look up at you. Tears were already falling, the tracks they left glinted in the sunlight that came in through the living room window and his bottom lip wobbled slightly, "Y-you. B-but. What?"

You slowly walked around the chair and crouched down in front of San, beaming and a little teary-eyed yourself at his reaction. "What do you think, Sannie? Does this make up for the difference in these past few days?" He choked out a sob and nodded fervently, lip still trembling as he stared down at the animals clumsily perched on his thighs.

San sniffled and lifted the puppy up to eye-level. It leaned closer to him and licked at the salty streaks on his cheeks. San laughed wetly and set the puppy back down before lifting the kitten up the same way and nuzzling his nose into its soft fur. After admiring them for a few minutes and calming himself down, San glanced at you, "This is what you were preoccupied with?"

You nodded and hummed faintly, "But not just this!"

Your boyfriend furrowed his brow and groaned a little, "There's more? I don't know if I can handle any more! I feel like I've had at least a dozen heart attacks in the last 5 minutes already!" You chuckled adoringly as San pouted at his puppy and kitten, talking to them about how his heart wasn't meant for stuff like that. While he was distracted, you shot a text to the group chat.

You: 'The Plan: Part 1' = ✅COMPLETE! Commence 'The Plan: Part 2'! Woo 🐻: AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! Yeo-Yeo: 😒 Hulk 🍎: That emoji may imply that Yeosang is rolling his eyes but he's actually staring at Wooyoung with the most fond, loving look in his eyes Mingo Mango: heh Yeo just 🤜 Jongho in the 💪

You rolled your eyes and chuckled, waiting for the boys to come up and actually "bust down the door". Moments later, a cacophony of voices burst through the quiet room as the guys threw the door open.

"Happy Birthday! We brought food!" Yunho shouted as he muscled multiple grocery bags into your kitchen, followed by Yeosang and Seonghwa who were also carrying armloads.

At the same time, Wooyoung screamed, "Babies!" and headed straight for San and the puppy and kitten. The two boys giggled together and fawned over the animals while some of the boys loudly scuttled around the kitchen and the others went to greet the birthday boy and the new additions. You headed into the kitchen to see if you could help with anything.

Seonghwa looked less frazzled than you expected and his kind eyes lit up when they met yours. "Anything for me to do?" you asked him, going over to wash your hands in the kitchen sink.

He gave you a characteristic wonky smile as he bumped your hip with his, "I think you've had quite the day as it is!"

"Me? What about you? You sure have lots of beautiful hair despite dealing with so many children all the time!"

Seonghwa's smile was one of pure reverence, "I wouldn't have it any other way."

You tugged him into a tight hug. "I know," you whispered, "Thank you." Before he could say anything, you pulled away to look him in the eye, "And before you say 'You don't have to thank me' or whatever, thank you. I mean it and you have to accept it or I'll pout." He laughed heartily and nodded, eyes sparkling with joy as he went back to getting food put on the table.

You went around hugging and thanking the rest of the boys for all their contributions to San's special day and then gathered everyone up to sit at the table for dinner. The kitten and puppy played together peacefully and everyone glanced over at them once in awhile to coo at their cuteness.

Chatter was loud and warm, just the way it should be. San absolutely glowed with happiness and at one point when all the boys were laughing and carrying on together, he leaned over to you to whisper in your ear. "Have I ever told you how much I love you?"

"Only every day," you beamed, booping his nose gently.

He giggled and leaned even closer to press a sweet kiss to your lips, "Thank you," another kiss, "Times a million," another, "for making me," yet another peck, "so, so happy," and another, "I love you," and one more kiss. You grabbed his face so he couldn't pull away from the last one but it was a little difficult to kiss when you both were smiling so wide.

A chorus of "Ew!" and "Gross!" and "NOT AT THE DINNER TABLE!" echoed behind you so you reluctantly pulled away, giggling all the while.

"OK, OK!" you held your hands up in defeat before resituating. "Alright, on the count of three," San looked confused all over again but you sent him a reassuring wink. "One!

"Two!

"Three!"

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY SAN!"

[regrettablewritings]

Hello! Id like to request 3, 5, 13, and 22 for Poe please?

Hello! Stuff’s below the cut, assuming Tumblr has stopped assing around!

3. Who is the most romantic?: As much as people like to joke about him and play him up as a rowdy boy who takes very little seriously, it’s quite easy to forget that Poe is canonically a sentimentalist at heart. He keeps his mother’s wedding ring on his person so that he can one day give it to someone whom he wants to be with, for crap’s sake! I think what also makes him showing off his romantic side a bit out of place is that no matter what anyone says, love blooming during a war is still something happening during a very chaotic time. Maybe inspirational, arguably a little too optimistic, but always and most definitely out of place. And considering his rank as general, Poe’s got a lot on his plate. Even when he wants to take you out to a nice dinner and do any usual courting actions, the likelihood is just so low . . . But don’t underestimate him. Poe can be quite resourceful in addition to being determined. Some nights when it seems quiet, he’ll set up a blanket somewhere for the two of you to sit on. If you’re on a ship, it’ll be by a window; if it’s on a planet, he’ll find a nice, quiet spot that’s not too close to base but not too far just in case; if you’re in more of a bunker, he’ll find a nice, quiet corner as far from everyone as he can get and sketch a randomized star chart that probably isn’t based anywhere near reality. Whatever the case, you’ll see stars and planets of some kind and he’ll encourage you to make a game of it, pointing at random dots and he’ll either identify the planet or make up a name for it and then go on to make up silly or amazing stories about the adventures he’s hypothetically had there or the dates you could go on while there. It’s very sweet, and also rather promising about the future.

5. Who says ‘I love you’ first?: It would depend, honestly. I don’t think Poe’s above saying it, but I think under certain circumstances, you might beat him to it. Circumstances that include the ship coming under attack and him having to fly out in defense. You’re nervous obviously. You’re always nervous whenever he flies out, even if it’s just for a recon mission. But in the middle of a blitz? You can’t understand why he seems so calm about it all! Why does he always seem so sure of himself when he jumps into that piloting suit? How does his brow remain unperturbed whenever he places that bulky helmet on his head? Is it all a facade? Or is he genuinely that confident? To your dismay, the only thing to rip you out of this fearful reverie was a sudden blast from the attack, the rattling sending you off balance. It was a mere stroke of luck that the man of the hour was already at your side, keeping you steady. “Gogogo, get to one of the pods!” he demands, his unwavering sense of leadership prevailing. “Be safe, okay?” It sounds so simple, yet when he says it, you know it’s not just some phrase to give you comfort. It’s an actual plea. Even as he parts, you can see the worry in his eyes. It’s the only hint you have that he might not be as dauntless as he seems. As you released, stumbling to keep moving forward, you turn back to see him heading toward the direction of the X-Wing hangar. You don’t know what you feel first: The pang in your gut; the thunder of your heartbeat; the scrambling of your mind as panic hits you. The only thing you notice (and in hindsight, no less), is that you called after him: “I love you!” He stops for a moment. He stares at you. You weren’t sure if he intended on doing anything. Maybe some part of you hoped he would respond in turn -- respond at all, really. But before anything could even happen, a shower of sparks from the breaking walls interrupted you, causing you both to stumble backwards. “Get to a pod, (Y/N), I’ll find you later! I promise!” you heard him call out to you. By the time the rain of static ended, he was gone.

13. When do they realize they should get together?: Poe comes to this conclusion first. Or rather, he is more accepting of this before you are. Deep down, you’ve been wanting to be with him for ages. How could you not? He’s handsome, brave, smart, sweet, funny, protective . . . But he’s also fighting as a general and pilot in the Resistance. You’re involved, too, of course, but you’re not anywhere near the front lines as he is. And as selfish as it may be, the fear of one day learning he won’t be flying back leaves your body filled with a heavy, dark bile of sadness and fear. Besides, surely a man of his standing would prefer a woman befitting of his caliber? Perhaps another warrior soul with a gorgeous face . . . Meanwhile, Poe already knows: You’re the one he wants. You’re smart, you think fast, you like his sense of humor, you’re loyal and kind -- and those are just the things he can think of on the spot if he didn’t have time to go into detail about how you were resilient, a different breed of hero he could respect. The tipping point that brought him to this, though, probably happened when everyone had gathered one evening during dinner hours and began to swap stories about their lives before the war and what they planned on doing after. When it came to Poe, he talked about how he kinda liked the idea of exploring the galaxy more, seeing places and embracing them without the cold grip of a looming war, helping to rebuild and maybe potentially help to establish stability on more outer realms . . . And these were all true, he did want these! But the more he talked about it, processing his thoughts into words . . . the more he couldn’t help but feel something missing. He never added that last little tidbit, but it did stay in his mind for the rest of the night. It didn’t leave until the next day when he saw you shuffling out of your sleeping quarters, hair a mess, eyes still crusting with sleep. “‘Mornin’,” you muttered as cheerily as your morning-broken body would let you. And just like that, he knew what his plans were missing: You. He wanted you to be there in all of his efforts, by his side. And, likewise, he wanted to be there with you. To support you, to experience what more life had to offer with you. He tried after the fact to see him doing any of these things without you but frankly, it just felt wrong. Incomplete. In short, you had been wanting to be with him after getting used to him. Poe wanted it after realizing he didn’t want it any other way.

22. Where does their first kiss happen?: Sooooo remember when I said you blurted out your love confession at a dramatic and less-than-ideal moment? It stuck with him. Even as Poe sprinted toward his X-Wing, even as he and a handful of other pilots took off to handle the threat. Honestly, it was a miracle he was able to stay focused just enough to avoid getting injured or even killed. But he did it, and now he had a promise to keep. Meanwhile, you were dealing with a lot. All the escapees managed to warp and regroup to a backwater planet for the time being, giving you one less thing to worry about so you could go ahead and worry about everything else. Like if Poe was safe, what the next steps were for this branch of the Resistance, and, oh yes, the fact that you had confessed your love to a general in the midst of an attack. Simple stuff. Of course you wanted him to return safely. You wanted that more than anything! But every time you tried to even consider what would happen next after the fact, your mind would collapse into a blob. To your dismay, you still didn’t have any answers when the X-Wings landed. Against your brain’s screaming pleas, you felt obligated to run with everyone else to the designated landing area and greet the heroes. The screams only silenced when you saw him. Your mind just couldn’t function enough to make any sounds or movements. You didn’t even so much as flinch when your brain registered that he had caught sight of you . . . and was walking towards you. “(Y/N)?” His voice sounded so distant, and yet you could hear something in his tone. You just weren’t sure what. Concern? Hesitancy? You felt his gloved hands cupping your cheeks. You could smell his sweat, hints of smoke from the mission, trace amounts of the soap he’d used this morning for his shower. You could see those brown eyes that you loved so much, how they practically shined with gladness and adoration -- Wait, what? You didn’t really have time to think back: The moment you felt his lips, warm and needful, connecting with your own, your mind went blank.

. . . I think I went a little overboard 😅  But I hope it came out alright! Thanks for asking!

[multi-fandom-nutjob]

10(ish) Characters I want in LEGO Star Wars: The Skywalker Saga! (and not as DLC)

So yeah. They’re remaking one of the greatest games I grew up with and it’s coming out in like a year. Well, not remaking, so much as going back to the drawing board and rebuilding it from scratch! Which is awesome!

But from what I’ve seen, there isn’t much buzz about this on Tumblr, so imma make a post and see if it gets any traction.

(((((No Legends characters will be mentioned, since I didn’t think they’d make it because of the Mouse.)))))

1. Ahsoka Tano (S1-3, S3-5, Rebels, Rebels Finale, S7)

Ahsoka is straight up tied with Darth Vader and Obi-Wan Kenobi for my favorite characters in the entire franchise! Not only that, but she was in LEGO Star Wars 3 as one of the major recurring playable characters and in LEGO Star Wars TFA as DLC, but only in the Rebels form.

Now, the definitively preferred outcome is for all five versions I mentioned to be unlockable, but from what I’ve heard, the Extended Universe isn’t getting much rep in the game, so she might get relegated to DLC. This would be pretty sad, especially since LEGO Star Wars 3 never went past Season 2 of the show, when it honestly got so much better.

Not only that, but each version of Ahsoka would bring something new to the Jedi gameplay. One of my biggest criticisms of the Complete Saga was that most of the Jedi played the same, so there wasn’t any incentive to play as them over the Sith. Ahsoka’s lightsaber style, however, could prove to diversify the combat greatly.

2. Asajj Ventress (2D, TCW, Bounty Hunter)

Asajj Ventress is an absolute queen! Among the Seperatists, she ends up being a scalpel amongst hammers. Because of Prequel Rep, we know Darth Maul, Count Dooku, and General Grievous will get their just dues, but Ventress’s fate is a lot more uncertain.

The biggest obstacle in her way might be whether it comes down to her or Savage Oppress, and ultimately, I would much rather have Ventress than Savage! Don’t get me wrong, Savage is great too, but with the inclusion of Maul, we already have a Double-Lightsaber wielding Nightbrother on the roster. They could certainly have different styles to it, with Maul’s acrobatics compared to Savage’s brute force, but I’m not certain TT Games will go that far. Ventress’s dual wielding would force some creativity to come through.

Ventress is also, frankly, a more fleshed out and entertaining character to add to the roster. Her inclusion could a lot of fun banter in all the action.

3. Wampa (Empire Strikes Back)

The Wampa was intended to be a playable character in both LEGO Star Wars 2 AND the Complete Saga. I’d say the big guy’s debut beyond a cutscene is long overdue!

Some might argue that he’s too big and too one-note to add anything to the gameplay. I’d argue, however, that the Wampa could play very similar to the big, beefy character in the LEGO Marvel and DC games, slamming into the ground and charging at opponents. In a game full of force-sensitives and bounty hunters, a wall of muscle would definitely be unique!

4. Yaddle (Prequels(I wanna say Phantom Menace?))

Do you know who’s cooler than Yoda? The mom of Baby Yoda, that’s who! Yaddle is one of those weird additions to the Star Wars Mythos that came back in a big way with the Mandalorian. While it isn’t exactly confirmed who Baby Yoda’s parents are.... c’mon, we all know.

Not to mention, Yaddle is one of the very, very, very few character in Legends and Canon to have an orange lightsaber, which would be really cool to see in gameplay. Sure, you can just make an orange lightsaber for your Custom Character, but isn’t it cooler to have a character on the regular roster with one?

5. Rey (Yellow Blade) (TRoS)

(((Sorry, that was the only pic I could find and it was too funny not to use)))

Speaking of oddly colored lightsabers, Rey finally made her own lightsaber in the last two minutes of RoS and it needs to be in the game! Honestly, I’ve been wanting Rey to make her own blade since she reached out to Luke at the end of TFA. She never got the chance to really develop her own style whenever she just used the “Legacy Blade” as I’ve called it. They desperately need to make this an unlockable in the game and not DLC.

(And was it just me, or did it really look like it was double-bladed from how the bottom looked?)

6. The Inquisitors (any of them) (Rebels, Fallen Order)

Okay, so, truth be told, I kind of hate these characters. Like, really hate these characters. The Grand Inquisitor and the Second Sister were the only ones that ever narratively struck a chord with me, and that was really only even in backstory. As actual antagonists, they’re all on par with Team Rocket in terms of threat and are far less endearing...

Hence why they’d be perfect in a LEGO game!! With a more comedic tone overall, the Inquisitors would fit right at home! Heck, mixing the lightsaber combat generally exclusive to Sith with characters only able to do Jedi Force Powers would make for an interesting dynamic.

Plus, the “helicopter-blades” as they tend to be called would honestly kinda work in a LEGO game? Sort of? Like, it’s stupid-looking, but we know it’s stupid looking, and it would help a lot with getting over huge pits and that sort of thing(like Artoo!). So there could be some precidence for them, so long as they were used right.

7. Ovissian Gunner (Battlefront 2... 2)

Just... just look at this doofus! He’s high as a kite and he’s packing a mini-gun! I don’t even play Battlefront 2 and I love him so much. I would take him home and introduce him to my parents. I would treat him right because he deserves the Galaxy. And he deserves to be in this game!

8. Kirak Infil’a (Darth Vader comics)

Ever wondered where Vader got the Kyber Crystal for his new lightsaber? He killed this guy and corrupted his Kyber Crystal to do it, and kept the same hilt for a long while before he rebuilt it to be what it was in the Original Trilogy.

As one of the few Disney Canon characters added to the Prequel Era, I’d say this guy has earned his stay in the new game, especially since I had to keep Legends characters off the list(((for unfortunate reasons))).

Not only that, but he kicked Vader’s ass for a good bit before dying, so having a badass grandpa who left the Jedi Order like Ahsoka on the roster would be fun!

9. Cal Kestis (Fallen Order)

I mentioned him before, but this guy and the Ovissian Gunner are the only two characters on the list with Video Game origins, which I think would be fun to explore in arguably the most famous video game series for the franchise!

Not only that, but he’s the only Jedi(besides this one jackass in the Clone Wars) that has a double-bladed lightsaber, which he can also detach into dual wielding blades! That alone brings merit to him being on the list, but the fact that the player can decide the color of the lightsaber in the game also poses an interesting concept I’d like to see them implement! That idea being, that every time you reignite his blades, it randomly slides between all the Custom Character options besides Red. Either that or it goes in a specific pattern, of course.

((And is it just me, or is his name very suspiciously close to that Kyle Katern guy from Jedi Knight II: Outcast?))

10. The Mandalorian (not gonna spoil his actual name)

You’ve gotta admit, Mando and Baby Yoda took the world by storm when they first premiered. One of their main creators was Dave Filoni, the same guy who directed The Clone Wars and Rebels! I think, from his help with the franchise to the overabundant success of the show, that Mando ought to be put in the base game as an unlockable(maybe as a sort of 100% completion reward?).

Not only would that just be great for the fans, but he’d be tons of fun to play as as well! His evaporating rifle and underhanded fighting style would be tons of fun to play as, and a character who passively deflects blaster fire would add a whole new dynamic to the roster, though he’d have to take damage to lightsabers to not be completely broken.

I can’t fucking believe I forgot Leia with her lightsaber!!!

Do i expect these characters to all make it into the game? Hardly. If even three make it in, you can call me impressed. But you can’t tell me that these ten wouldn’t be a ton of fun in a LEGO game!

[phobiadeficient]

tea pot anon a second time! I was also wondering! when you have a lull in prompts, or if you felt like it, I would love to see, like a sniper/demo/scout one that focus on demo? I just think it would be neat! since you've done ones with scout and sniper as the focus, and all! no rush, of course, and only if you felt like it!

welcome to “demo has a self-stated alcohol problem and frankly his boyfriends are very worried about him and wish he would just talk to them instead of making himself sick”. a long one because demo deserves it (warnings for alcoholism and a brief situation of dubious consent, however it is not taken advantage of)

-

Demo’s head was pounding, and he blinked his eye open.

Alright. His own room. That was good. And he was clothed, in his pajamas, something very soft. And his mouth tasted absolutely terrible, and he had a splitting headache—not like migraines, like hangover. Not unusual. Maybe just worse than usual.

He was warm, maybe too warm, and seemed to be having a hard time pushing at his blankets. Weighty. He looked first to his right, and blinked when he saw a pair of dog tags a few inches from his nose—Scout was here, apparently—then craned his head to look to his left, and could just barely catch sight of Sniper, yawning, blinking awake.

He looked over, apparently noted that Demo was awake, and promptly reached to fumble on the bedside table, passing Demo a bottle of water first and foremost.

He took it gratefully, sitting up a bit while he drank so as not to drown himself, hoping to wash the bad taste from his mouth. Then he blinked down at Scout for a minute. Scout was in a cozy pair of pajamas, as was he, and even Sniper (who generally tried to sleep in the buff when he could get away with it) was in a sleep shirt and presumably pants. Despite feeling like absolute hell internally, he didn’t feel particularly disgusting.

“What’s…?” he tried to ask, even as his voice croaked, and he registered that his throat hurt.

Sniper nudged him back into lying down, taking the water bottle back gingerly, setting it down before he too laid down. Demo felt a little uncomfortable in the back of his mind at Sniper being in his blind spot, but he didn’t really have it in him to say anything, or to do anything about it.

“Me and the kid noticed you’ve been in a slump lately,” Sniper said softly. “I asked him to check up on you, see if you’d rather be around us for it, and he tracked you down and saw you’d nearly drank yourself to the floor. He pieced together that there was something wrong, bolted to go get me, brought me over, and we took care of you for the night.”

“Feel like utter shite,” Demo managed.

“Yeah,” Sniper said, as if he’d assumed. “You threw up, quite a lot. Cried. Kid couldn’t understand a word of it, but, I picked out pieces.”

His voice sounded sad, and that worried Demo, quite a lot.

He took a deep breath before continuing, yawned. “Scout managed to convince you to take a shower after all the mess that’d happened, got you in your pajamas and all, I brought some over for us two. He was worried we couldn’t leave you overnight, thought you’d… choke on your own throw-up, something like that. Told him we can’t die anyways, but… you know him. He worries.” A pause. “We both do.”

He felt queasy.

“We’re…” An inhale, an exhale, Sniper’s breath tickling at him. “We’re going to need to talk about it at some point. Not now, not while you’re still feeling like a buggering wreck and all. But at some point.”

“Do we, though?” Demo tried, tried to tint his voice with an amount of humor, a shot in the dark based on what he could hear of Sniper’s mood.

“You scared the absolute hell out of us, Tavish,” Sniper said, voice hushed, no humor, no joy, just terribly, terribly tired. A pause. “And we’re not… upset that this happens, that you have your off days. They happen, there’s only so much we can help that. But you scared the hell out of us because you didn’t say anything, didn’t try and… tell us, or ask for help, nothing. The only reason we knew something could be wrong was that Scout noticed you didn’t talk to Soldier very long yesterday after matches were up. That’s all we had to go on.”

Demo looked over at Scout, who was more often than not a light sleeper, and who hadn’t shifted even a little bit at their tossing and turning and talking, out like a light.

“We just… look, we’ll talk more about it later. And we aren’t angry. We’re just worried about you.”

Demo squeezed his eye shut.

“Just go back to sleep for now,” Sniper said quietly. “Headache?”

“Yeah,” Demo nodded.

“I’ll get somethin’ for that, be right back. Drink more water,” he directed, getting out of bed and putting the water bottle where he’d been.

Scout woke up before Sniper got back, shaken awake when Demo sat up to drink from the water bottle. “Hwhat?” he mumbled, blinking. “Hey. Hey, you’re up. Good mornin’. It’s morning?”

“It’s morning,” Demo assured, further ruffling his hair.

“Fuck.” Scout sat up as well, tucked himself into Demo’s side. And he was always a cuddler like that, always craved contact, but it was a bit much, even for him. “Hey, where’s Legs?”

“Went to get… headache medicine, I think,” Demo replied, took another drink, winced. “Told me I was a damn menace yesterday.”

“God, yeah,” Scout sighed. “What all’d he say?”

“A good bit,” Demo shrugged. “About the sick, and my throwing a wee bit of a tantrum.”

“Did he tell you about when you were getting pissed at me over the showering thing?” Scout asked, still having not come up for air from where he was cuddled into Demo’s shoulder and arm.

“Nae?”

“Goddamn, like… okay. Usually when we three get together it’s a thing we know about before it happens, and usually if we’re drinking we’re all drinking, but this time we were both just like—“

“Volume, doll,” Demo warned, wincing a little as his headache throbbed.

“Sorry,” Scout whispered. “Uh, but this time we were both stone cold sober and you just felt like total garbage, but then when you felt good enough that we could try and get you to take a shower without like, drowning, you started getting pissed off at us because you figured us not wanting to be all cuddly and kissy with you was our way of breaking up with you—like, seriously outta nowhere—and you kept insisting that you were totally fine and that you wanted to… first you were saying you wanted to blow Snipes, then I think you were asking me to do it? I dunno. But we kept saying no, because you were like gone and that would be fucked up, and you got like upset about it. But yeah. Kinda washed out your mouth and got even more annoyed and stuff, it was a nightmare.”

Demo felt guilt stabbing deep into his chest.

“Is that a thing you worry about a lot?” Scout asked gently. “That we’re gonna just, outta the blue break up with you?”

Demo didn’t know whether he should answer that honestly or not.

“We’re not gonna,” Scout said quietly, interpreting his silence. “Like, if anything isn’t that what we should be worried about? You’re the guy who’s wicked fuckin’ smart and can bench press me and is also just super nice to everyone, and real funny too. And sure, Snipes is hot and cool, and I’m a healthy young guy, but it’s like, c’mon. You’re way out of our league. We’re super lucky.”

“You’re gonna try and tell me, after that whole bloody nightmare I cannae damn well remember, there was no point of you wondering whether I’m worth the trouble, doll?”

Scout pulled back to level a look at him, all the more inescapable since he was directly in Demo’s line of sight. “Babe, remember that time I got all upset about shit because I thought you guys hated me because we had to cancel date night that one time and I forgot to get dinner and I was acting like the world was ending? Did you wanna break up with me over that?”

“No,” Demo admitted.

“Remember that time Snipes was talking about his shitty dad and growing up in Australia and getting all broken up about it because it sucked and he still isn’t over it? Did you wanna dump his ass on the curb over that?”

“No, but this is different.”

“It’s totally not though.”

“Damn it, Scout,” Sniper said, and Demo looked up and saw him closing the door behind him, a small box cradled in one arm. “Don’t have the conversation without me. And not while he’s hung over within an inch of his bloody life.”

“Had worse,” Demo defended, watching Sniper start fumbling his way through his little box.

While Medic was a well-trained certified medical genius, Sniper tended to take pride in his knowledge of home remedies. Demo was given simple mint and ginger candies for his nausea, honey to soothe his throat, and some sort of something to help speed up his hydration.

“Then this is just proper headache medicine,” Sniper said, shaking out two pills into his palm and offering them to Demo. “Take these with water, mind.”

“Can’t I wash it down with something stronger?” he asked.

“Stuff it, Tavish,” Sniper said sternly, and put the box aside, and once Demo had downed the medicine, he pulled him down back into bed, and Scout followed with no hesitation. “More rest, I think. Twenty minutes until the pills kick in, then you’ll be right as rain. And the kid needs sleep, besides.”

“Do not,” Scout protested around a yawn.

Demo didn’t argue, just letting the two of them hold him and trying not to feel guilty about it, even as he drifted back off.

-

He avoided the conversation as best he could. Mostly by distracting Scout, prompting him to continue whatever he was on about at any given point when the three of them were reasonably alone, knowing that as long as he wasn’t thinking about it he wouldn’t remember and Sniper wasn’t the type to cut him off to talk about more serious things. And on their usual date night, he showed up already well into tipsy, if still alert and comprehensible.

But then they cornered him, finding him in his workshop and plopping themselves down on either side of him at his bench and moving right into what they wanted with no time for him to redirect.

“Okay, so since you don’t wanna talk about the thing,” Scout started to say, and shushed him with a hand on his arm when he started to protest. “Nonono, no, listen, just hear me out. Since you don’t wanna talk about it, we don’t gotta talk about it. Not for real. But me and Snipes still have some stuff we want you to know.”

“So we won’t talk about it,” Sniper agreed, hand on his shoulder, gentle but weighty. “We really won’t. Could you just follow us, darl? Please?”

Demo was suspicious, but not suspicious enough to disagree with them, not when they were making it pretty clear that they were letting him off the hook. So he just gently asked them to wait a few minutes and wrapped up what he was doing and put things away, then stood to follow them.

They led him into Scout’s room, a place they didn’t tend to frequent, a bit more cluttered than Demo’s room and with a slightly smaller bed, and less private than the camper van. Sniper sat down at Scout’s bed and gestured for Demo to join him, and he did.

“So what have you gone and dragged my arse to a secondary location for, then?” Demo asked, raising an eyebrow at Scout, who was digging through his closet across the room.

“Well,” Sniper started in carefully. “Remember that time this little bugger was having an awful day and we coddled him over it?”

“We figured, hey, you’re not into having a whole talk about stuff. That’s fair. But we gotta let you know we love you, though. So,” Scout shrugged, and came back with a box, roughly as big as a shoebox. “We’re just gonna try and give you a real good night to take your mind off stuff and help you feel better and then maybe you’ll… I dunno. It made sense when me and Snipes talked about it.”

“The idea is that we love you and we need you to know that,” Sniper simplified.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t need—“ Demo started to say, flustered.

“It’s not about whether you need it, Tavish, it’s about what you want,” Sniper sighed, stroking a hand down between his shoulder blades. “You’re allowed to want things. And what we want is to make you feel good, get your mind off things.”

“Please?” Scout asked, putting on his very best puppy-dog eyes for the effect. And damn it all, they almost never worked on Sniper, but they could convince Demo to do just about anything in a heartbeat.

“Fine, knock yourselves out,” he sighed, and moved to start stripping when Scout’s hands started nudging at his clothes insistently.

Soon he was just about bare, although he kept his eye patch on, as he tended to do, less out of embarrassment and more because the damn thing always got lost in the sheets. And Scout had stripped down to his own boxers and socks, and Sniper had at least stripped to his work pants, probably more for the sake of comfort than anything else.

Then Scout was pulling his arm, urging him into some position. He found himself on all fours above Scout, and the smaller man wrapped arms up over his shoulders and legs around his waist and kissed him full on the mouth with no small amount of enthusiasm.

Demo settled forward, already enjoying the way this was going, and was only idly surprised when he felt a pair of hands on his ass, parting exactly long enough to tilt his head up a bit.

“What’re you up to, Mundy?” he asked idly, like he didn’t have a flushed, athletic young man kissing across his well-bearded jaw and demanding his attention.

“Well, the gremlin’s been teasing me for a while about some toy he bought a month back and getting use out of when I’m “too grumpy to mess around”, see,” he quoted dryly, and Demo rolled his eye at the self-satisfied little grin Scout gave at that. “He gave me a spin on it, and it’s properly good. Thought it’s only fair you get to try it too. That awright?”

“Only if you promise not to enjoy the view too much,” Demo teased, wriggling enticingly before dipping back down to finally give Scout some more attention, chuckling at his enthusiasm.

He had to part for a moment to steady his breathing as Sniper started coaxing him open patiently on two fingers, and his brow furrowed a little bit as a familiar smell hit his nose. Like cinnamon, maybe, and why did he smell cinnamon—?

He gasped outright at the feeling of a mouth against him.

His thighs trembled a little, and he panted against Scout’s temple at the feeling of hands spreading him wide and a tongue setting to work, moving against him in patient, teasing throbs.

He’d honestly forgotten about the flavored lube. It hadn’t come up in a while.

“Feels good?” Scout asked gently, pulling back to look Demo in the eye, cupping his cheek. Demo nodded distractedly. “Good. We wanna make you feel good.”

“You do,” Demo managed, voice a little tight, jolting at a sudden press inward, inward, before Sniper pulled back and set to flat-tongued lapping again.

“Well, we wanna make you feel extra good,” Scout said petulantly, kissing him just below his eyepatch, and when had Scout unhooked his other arm? At some point, apparently, because then Scout has a hand around his dick and was moving in nice, steady tugs against him.

It had taken Scout a while to get used to dealing with an uncut dick, but once he figured out the basics, he was a bloody master at it, drawing the pad of his thumb against sensitive points as he gave steady pulls, milking precum out of him so easily it was almost embarrassing, spreading it all across the head.

The two-pronged assault had him shivering and shaking in ecstatic spasms, trying to jerk his hips and finding it difficult to stop himself.

“Mickey, you filthy-minded lanky bastard, I’m not lasting into you using that toy you’re on about if you keep doin’ that,” he warned almost desperately, an embarrassing squeak escaping him as the thumb that he’d been circling against his perineum pressed just a bit harder in response.

“Then go on, Tavish,” Sniper replied, kissing breathlessly at his tailbone before he dived right back in. Scout meanwhile leaned up to nip at his bottom lip, coaxing it from between Demo’s teeth as he tried to muffle himself.

“C’mon, you’ve got two rounds in you,” Scout urged, rhythm increasing and for a moment unintentionally matching the rhythm Sniper’s tongue was moving in, and that was it for him, shuddering and groaning, mouthing praises against Scout’s neck insistently as the lad tugged him right through it.

He was distantly aware of Scout squeezing the last drops free of him and smearing them against his own thigh before releasing Demo and moving to just wrap arms up around his shoulders again. Sniper detached, kneading soothingly at his thighs as he slowly came back down, breathing hard.

Demo managed to sit up a bit higher, hoping to address the both of them, then he saw the well-past-satisfied look on Scout’s face, and looked down a bit further and saw that Scout hadn’t bothered trying to catch Demo’s orgasm, instead letting it splatter out onto his own stomach and nearly up to his chest.

“You ever get tired of getting filthy just to look good?” Demo asked, admittedly feeling his face heat up as he looked at the sight.

“Nah,” Scout said smugly.

“Oh, what’s the damn kid gone and done now?” Sniper grumbled, leaning down next to the two of them and planting an elbow next to Demo’s, eyes widening a little at the sight. “…Christ, nevermind, carry on,” he said, leaning his cheek on his fist as he ogled.

“Pretty little thing, aye?” Demo asked, adjusting his weight to stroke a hand down Scout’s side, grinning at the shiver that drew out of him, Scout clearly all keyed up.

“You wanna talk about good-lookin’? I know I’ve got a mirror for you around here somewhere,” Scout replied, even if it wobbled a bit with Sniper’s free hand moving to tweak at his nipples. “Fuckin’—quit it, Snipes, c’mon.”

“Nah, nah, keep on, Mundy,” Demo urged, shifting to better balance as he moved a hand down between them to grip at Scout’s dick, hard and demanding, probably bordering on painful.

Scout jolted, a sound of pleasure punching out from deep in his chest, and he squirmed a little bit, breath picking up. “Y-you guys—hey, I thought we’re, this is Demo’s night, okay?” he tried, even muddled, even trying hard not to arch into Demo’s hand.

“You’re good for more than one round,” Demo taunted, echoing the earlier sentiment. He leaned down to murmur right into Scout’s ear, enjoying the shiver he gave at it. “And besides, lad, I think I’d really get a kick out of you makin’ an even bigger mess all over yourself, aye? Hearin’ you moan for it. Gorgeous little thing.”

Scout bucked, and spilled, and moaned just as he’d been asked to, embarrassed and defeated.

“Mmm. Lovely,” Demo purred, and Scout just burrowed into his neck to hide, face bright red. “Nothin’ to be ashamed of, lad. Especially since you bounce back so quick after, see?”

Scout grumbled something at that.

“You hangin’ in there, Mickey?” Demo asked, looking over at Sniper, who looked very pleased with himself, stroking a palm over Scout’s ribcage where there wasn’t much mess.

“Enjoyin’ the show, Tavish,” he replied evenly, eyes flicking up to meet his gaze. “And seems like you are too.”

He wasn’t as young as he used to be, but Scout did tend to make a nice view, and his body was starting to react again upon seeing it, member growing heavier between his thighs once more. “I am,” he agreed.

“Care to take a spin on that toy, now?” Sniper suggested.

“Where’s that leave you?” Demo asked, eye flicking down to glance at where Sniper’s pants were growing properly snug.

“Buggering the prettyboy’s mouth once he’s found it again, I’d bet,” Sniper said, reaching up to stroke his thumb across Scout’s bottom lip. Sometimes that was a great way to get Scout to bite you, but now he’d been unraveled enough that instead he leveled a heated look at Sniper, moving instead to lick at it partingly. “Yeah, isn’t that right? There’s a beauty.”

Sniper returned to his previous position behind Demo, slicking something up and spreading him open with one hand. “Slow, now,” Demo warned.

“Oh, ‘course,” Sniper agreed, and then something slightly chillier than the room was pressing at him, then pressing in.

Scout helped distract him from the odd feeling of it by laying kisses all across the underside of his jaw where beard started to fade to neck, nose tickling where it brushed. Demo jolted as the toy pressed just right, and he heard Sniper chuckle behind him, and felt his face burning again.

“Ready, then?” Sniper asked, smoothing hands down the outside of Demo’s thighs.

“Give him a minute, Legs,” Scout warned, then set back in again.

“Think I’m probably ready,” Demo said hesitantly, frowning a bit.

“Hah! No you aren’t,” Scout scoffed knowingly. “Like, three more minutes. Trust me.”

Sniper continued on with teasing touches across his thighs and ass, and finally made an impatient little noise. There were sounds of shuffling, then Sniper was back, much closer, grinding at the back of his thigh idly while he continued spidering hands all over his skin. Demo was starting to feel a bit warm, a bit sensitive again, and it was then that Sniper’s hands fell down to the base of the toy again, hesitating, waiting for something.

Demo startled a bit when he realized what it was. “Go on then,” he urged, rocking back for emphasis.

Sniper obliged, and the toy clicked to life, and his breath caught.

It wasn’t necessarily the strongest vibration he’d ever felt in his life, but pressed just there against his prostate, humming steadily and unrelentingly, it had him feeling overwhelmed within moments.

He sagged against Scout, moaning and mouthing nonsense into his collarbone, more desperate noises rising up from the back of his throat. Scout pet encouragingly over his shoulders, saying all sorts of sweet little things that Demo could barely process when it felt like his soul was about to damn near leave his fucking body.

He jolted as Sniper reached around and beneath him to cup and roll at his balls and to fist his erection in steady motions, grinding idly against his thigh again, not demanding, not really even asking, just scratching an itch. Not that Demo could particularly pay attention to it.

The first time getting off wasn’t a problem, but this second time often ended with the other two being finished first and needing to end him off with a hand or mouth. At one point Scout had finished while Demo was fucking him and he’d urged Demo to fuck the space between his thighs, and that was damn nice. The point was, though, often his stamina on the second go-around could be an inconvenience.

This time, he was concentrating hard on not coming undone within five damn minutes of the thing being turned on.

The two of them went easy on him, at least, sensing that all of this was bordering on being too much for him, movements slow and gentle, handling him like he was something delicate, and had they not so carefully pulled him apart at the very seams he might’ve had it in him to be irked by it, but as it was he couldn’t help but agree.

“Good?” Scout asked softly, pressing a kiss below his eyepatch again, and it was only then that Demo processed the tears leaking out of the corner of his good eye and dripping to land in Scout’s hair.

“So good,” he agreed, practically wheezed, and now he was the one hiding his face in Scout’s shoulder. “Don’t you dare stop.”

He absentmindedly worried a mark into Scout’s neck, distantly feeling the edge creep into view, and he heard Sniper whisper some kind of encouragement and felt Scout’s arms tighten around him before he finally careened over it, crying out in his pleasure, hips jolting raggedly as he tried to chase the high for just a little bit longer.

For a bit, he couldn’t process much of anything. The toy was out, and he was lying on his side, cradled between the two of them, held tightly. His breath was shuddery.

“We’ve got you, Tav,” Sniper was murmuring, gentle and soft.

“We love you,” Scout was assuring, quiet and tender.

And he drifted off like that, and couldn’t seem to remember a single time he’d ever felt sad in his life, his chest far too full to make way for bad memories.

God, he loved them.

[bodytothefifthpower]

Would you be able to go into the katya stuff if you dont mind ?? Im not sure if its being released after this so im just curious what exactly happened

Okay so clearly after all of the speculation and hostility in the fandom recently, some people are interested to learn how exactly Trixie Mattel: Moving Parts portrays Katya. I was at the premiere at Tribeca, and I’m happy to give you a brief overview of what was shown and my opinions on it.

FROM THIS POINT ON THERE ARE SPOILERS FOR TRIXIE MATTEL: MOVING PARTS! SCROLL PAST NOW IF YOU DON’T WANT ANY SPOILERS!

So while this is a film about Brian Firkus, the lynchpin of the whole film (the underpinning that holds the story together) is really Trixie & Katya’s relationship. Which is perfectly reasonable! They are a huge part of each other’s lives, and they just happened to be filming this documentary while all of Katya’s health issues were going on. To completely strike what happened from the record would, frankly, probably mean they couldn’t use a lot of the footage they had- to the point where I really think it could’ve scrapped whole chunks of the movie.

One of the first things they show in the film is Katya gifting Trixie with dolls that look like the two of them; it really portrays their friendship in a lovely light. Trixie also talks about how much she loves Katya and loves working with her, and about how everyone got to see their friendship develop over the course of filming UNHhhh. For those of us who know what’s coming, this obviously produces a lot of anxiety. But I have to tell you: that is just good filmmaking. To create a level of suspense like that is almost Greek Tragedy-eqsue with its dramatic irony.

The next part I’m going to talk about is one of the parts everyone is worried about: Katya’s last day on set at the Trixie & Katya Show. You can tell she’s unwell; she has a very short temper and very little patience for anything happening around her. But she also says “What I need is to quit, but she [Trixie] is my friend and I won’t do that to her.” Even though Katya is clearly unwell, the perspective of the film also paints her as sympathetic. Trixie’s reactions to what’s happening really does indicate that Katya is not in her right mind, and it’s not her fault. Obviously it hurt Trixie, for multiple reasons: one of her best friends is unwell, it seems like an important relationship in her life- and we learn that she doesn’t have a lot of them- is unraveling, and in addition to that, what’s happening could potentially permanently damage her career. The fact that she handles all of those issues with such humility and grace, while still trying to be understanding towards and a good friend to Katya really, REALLY speaks to her character.

The part that is most unflattering to Katya are the text messages she sends to Trixie after the premiere of All Stars 3. She says some incredibly nasty things about Trixie. She is downright mean. For those of us who know Katya though, that is just a clear indicator of how sick she was. I think we all know Katya in her right mind would not send someone- let alone one of her best friends- messages like that. But yeah, I can see how someone might feel hostile towards Katya after seeing what she did. But again, this is a thing that happened. It’s not made up for the sake of the film, and it’s not anyone slandering Katya’s name; it’s a real thing that really happened, and the only difference is that now you know about it. And again, I would like to remind everyone that this is a film about Trixie, not about Katya. So while you do walk away from the scene feeling sad for Katya (because obviously no one wants her to be unravelling like that), you mainly feel bad for Trixie. She clearly doesn’t deserve any of the ire Katya is throwing at her, as we’ve seen her trying to be a good friend. And that is what is expected! This is a film about Trixie, you know? Of course she’s the protagonist!

Overall, through the whole arc of the film that focuses on the dissolution of Trixie & Katya’s friendship the theme is really that Trixie wishes Katya was better, because she misses her friend. That’s the take away. Not that Katya is evil or anything, but that Trixie misses her friend. So do I think the film portrays Katya in a negative light? No. I think it shows the things she did- and they were not good things by any means- but, 1. It doesn’t blame her for her mental illness or addiction, and 2. It isn’t focused on the things that Katya did, but the way that it affected Trixie.

By the end of the film, we see that Trixie and Katya are friends again. It shows them having some funny- and at times tender- interactions backstage at Trixie’s LA Moving Parts show. Katya mentions that she’s better now, and we wrap up the film with Trixie & Katya back together again, and ready to take on the world. In terms of the storyline, it does feel like there’s a bit missing, because it goes from Trixie & Katya not being friends- and the uncertainty in the air over that- to suddenly they’re friends again with no explanation. From a story standpoint, I wish they would’ve included something about how they started on the road to recovering their friendship, rather than just jumping to it recovered.

Personally, I think the reason some fans are so freaked out about the way Katya is portrayed in the film is because they hold her up as this beacon of perfection. She’s mentally ill, but she’s still so funny and personable. She’s an addict, but she doesn’t appear to struggle- or if she does, she turns it into comedy. I think she’s what a lot of people who view themselves as broken hope they can be. But she’s not perfect. She is capable of hurting people. She’s capable of making horrible decisions, and getting sick, and relapsing, and ruining friendships, and honestly that is just the reality of it. We’re all capable of things like that! But you don’t love Katya because she’s perfect, you love her because she’s real. So if you’re angry in the name of your love for her that her reality is being shown, it’s possible that you love the idea of Katya, and you love what she represents, but you might not love the man himself. Just some food for thought.

Can you imagine if Katya heard everyone freaking out about the film portraying her in a bad light? The kind of pressure that’d put on her, to feel like her fans will only like her or support her provided she doesn’t slip up? Certainly that is not conducive to being supportive of her. Personally, I think holding celebrities to a level of perfection is just unfair. I think we as a fandom need to accept that sometimes Katya may not be well, and sometimes she might make mistakes, and it’s okay to acknowledge the things that have happened, and to still continue to love her.

One thing I can tell you for certain is that Trixie is NOT exploiting or taking advantage of Katya. From a purely legal standpoint, the filmmakers would have had to get Katya’s written consent to have her in the film. Katya quite literally would have had to sign off on it. Additionally, Trixie said that Katya had already seen the film. Katya was already aware of what was going to be shown. People seem to forget that Katya is a grown-ass man with autonomy, and that it wouldn’t have gone ahead without her foreknowledge. And after watching the film, I can say with certainty that Trixie absolutely wouldn’t have kept in anything that Katya didn’t okay; she’s too good and too thoughtful of a person to do something like that.

Another major thing people are forgetting, it seems, is that this is not a movie about Katya! This is about Trixie! There is a part in the movie where she says something along the lines of: “No one will want me without Katya.” It absolutely breaks my heart to think that Trixie has no idea how much we love her on her own, how much she means to us, how funny and talented she is by herself, and how much worth she has by herself. And the fact that all anyone wants to talk about is Katya- regarding Trixie’s movie- really irks me. Because she’s basically being proven right.

My last big point I’d like to make is directly related to something Trixie says in the film. She talks about how she gave all of those vague answers about Katya because it wasn’t her story to share, and she didn’t want to make the issue about herself when it clearly wasn’t. She points out that other queens were like, “we all struggle with things! Personally, I’ve dealt with [blank]!” And while the other queens were trying to demonstrate that Katya wasn’t alone, what they were really doing was making it about themselves. I can’t help but see a parallel in the fans that are angry over Katya’s portrayal in this film; the issue is about Katya, and Katya is clearly fine with it, so when you’re freaking out over it, aren’t you really just making it about yourself?

So, there are a plethora of reasons I think people should stop sending hate Trixie’s way because of this movie:

1. This is Trixie’s story. This is really what happened over the past year. To cut half of it out would be doing a disservice to Trixie and to the filmmakers.

2. The filmmakers had final say. They shot all the footage and edited it all together. Trixie really had no part in the creation of this movie aside from being the subject of it, and it’s not fair to throw hate her way for something she had very little control over; that’s like being mad at an actor for a decision the showrunners made.

3. To cut out the parts where Katya is unwell would be a disservice to Katya, because it says “we only want you when you’re perfect.”

4. Maybe someone who is struggling with addiction or who has a loved one struggling with addiction needs to see something like this! No one is being helped by just sweeping all the ugly parts under the rug.

5. Both of them have seen the movie, knew what was going to be shown, and were clearly okay with it because it went ahead and made the final cut.

6. It’s not anyone else’s business how either Trixie or Katya live their lives, or what they choose to share with their public.

7. Katya is not painted as some kind of monster. She’s painted as someone who is mentally unwell, sometimes sympathetic, sometimes not, but ultimately as a flawed human being, who does in fact get a redemption arc!

8. This is a movie about Trixie, not about Katya, and I think people need to respect that and stop shifting the focus.

In conclusion, what I walked away from this movie with was that, yes, it was very sad and at times disturbing to see Katya so hurt and broken. But more than anything, I walked away with an appreciation for Brian Firkus. For how selfless, and caring, and giving, and hardworking the man behind Trixie is. If you get a chance to see Trixie Mattel: Moving Parts I highly recommend you do so; I hope you’ll be just as in awe of Trixie as I am.

[nickmuch]

c.z.k. - high school (Part 2)

PART 1 / PART 3

Note: I was asked to turn this into a longer story, so here’s part 2! I don’t know in what direction to necessary go with this and how to end/wrap it up, so if you have any ideas message me pls! I’ll try to make this a 5-part-imagine.

Also: Edwin crackhead hours have arrived. Again

“So, you’re cool with that?!” Edwin shouted in disbelief.

Nearly four months had passed since my little moment with Zion and a lot had happened during this time. After the party, everything seemed to go smoothly between us. Probably way too smoothly. We spent most of our free-time together, doing god knows what. However, at the end we decided we would be better off as just friends. He reasoned that it was unfair to the boys and only made the whole group dynamic odd. I was okay with that. Okay, scratch that, I wasn’t okay with that. But I wasn’t going to throw a fit or anything and honestly it ended up working out better than I would have thought.

“Sure, why shouldn’t I?” I asked. This only made me earn a scoff from him. “Are you okay? Do you have a fever or something? Did you catch a cold?” Edwin pressed the back of his hand against my forehead, trying to see if I was indeed getting sick. “Stop that” Nick mumbled, swatting his hand away from me. “Bro, she’s okay with that, though!”. The neighboring table turned around giving us glares for being so loud. “Excuse my little idiotic friend over there” Austin apologized in behalf of Ed. He was just about to protest when he got interrupted by Brandon. “She’s okay with what …?”.

He had spent half of the lunch-time in the art room, trying to compose a beat he couldn’t get out of his head and for which he might have earned himself detention from our English teacher for “making too much noise during class”.

“She’s okay with Z and Asya hanging out” “Hanging out? Since when is that a problem? They are friends I thought?”. Edwin slapped him across the back of his head. “Are y’all dumb or are y’all stupid?! They are dating or something, Ion even know. But I for sure saw ‘em swap spit earlier this morning and thinking about it now: B, you can have my lunch. I lost my appetite.” He shoved his tray in Brandon’s direction, who didn’t even notice judging from his perplex expression towards me. “So, you’re trying to tell me that Z is with Asya – the girl who he said was like a cousin –“ “Correction, he said little sister” Nick chimed in. The boy with glasses shook his head. “Alright, who he said was like a little sister. And you’re cool with that? Even though that’s low key incest-y If I might add. Besides, do I have to remind you that not even a month ago he broke things off out of nowhere with the shittiest of the shittiest excuses? You cried for the whole weekend!”.

He was right. I had cried about it for three days straight. I really didn’t mean to, but somehow, I guess I liked him more than I wanted to admit. The first night the boys had made it their mission to cheer me up, but once they realized it wasn’t working, they just joined me and my pity party with some Ben & Jerry’s. At some point, Edwin even shed a tear or two. “I just don’t know if I should be sad that my favorite ship just sank or if I should beat his lanky ass for breaking my twin’s heart!” he exclaimed.

“I know, but I’m over it now” I poked in my salad. “And frankly, he is too by the looks of it”. I really didn’t mean to look over to her table. It just happened for a split second. Of course, it was right in the moment he was leaning in, giving her a kiss on the lips. She was blushing like mad. “This is so disgusting. Here, you can have my lunch” Brandon slid the tray - that originally was Edwin’s - into Austin’s direction. “I just don’t get it, man. Zion really liked you. Why did he pull that move on you?” Nick asked. No one could answer him. All of our gazes were pointed in their direction. After what felt like years, I decided that enough was enough and got up. “Yo, where you goin’? We still need to talk about this” Edwin stopped me to pull me down again. Though, I ended up sitting on his lap instead of my original spot, he seemed to not care. He was determined to get the truth out of me. If there was one thing you needed to know about Edwin, it was that he cared about his family dearly. Whenever one of his siblings was sad, he automatically was sad, too. Ever since I moved in, that same rule applied to me.

“You want the truth?” I said annoyed. All I wanted was to get out of here, in all honesty. The feeling of humiliation was getting stronger by the second. He just nodded cautiously, as if he didn’t know whether or not to answer me. “I feel like shit” I said, feeling a little bit relieved to finally speak my mind. “He’s annoying me. Just last month he was all into me and suddenly he’s with her?! Plus, what type of shitty excuse is that?” my voice was starting to tremble at this point.“It’s unfair to the boys and makes the whole group dynamic odd” I mocked him. “I am really starting to think that I was just pass-time to him and that makes me mad. It’s really unfair, okay?! If you like someone else, why in the flying fuck would you even get involved with me? Ugh, fuck this shit. I don’t even wanna be his friend anymore. Seeing his face makes me wanna beat his ass and I ain’t about that life. My momma raised me better than beating the ass of a bean stick!”.

Once I was finished with my rant, I finally dared to look at the boys. All of them had shock written all over their faces. “Aye, Ma” Nick spoke first. “You should’ve told us earlier. We would’ve checked him and at least made sure he wouldn’t be all lovey-dovey with her in your presence”. All I did was sigh.

“I don’t know what to say. Or feel” Austin looked so helpless. He was struggling to find the right comforting words and suddenly I felt horrible for dragging them into my stupid problems. “It’s alright. You don’t have to say anything. I will get over it at some point. It’s not like he’s the only cute boy in New York”. “That’s right, I’m cuter” Edwin tried to lighten the mood and it actually worked. We were all laughing before the bell rang, signaling that class was starting soon.

After school, Edwin immediately drove us both home, so I could take a nap before the boys came over. As soon as I was in my bed, I of course was struggling to fall asleep. “Can you come over? I can’t sleep” I spoke into the phone. Not even ten seconds later, Edwin barged into my room, getting under the covers with me. The fact we got so close over the last few months was making me happy, to say the least. It wasn’t weird to share a bed with each other, we were siblings after all. “We shared a womb, we might as well be able to share a bed” he had said jokingly one day. The silence was comforting me in a way I couldn’t explain in words.

“Fuck Z”. Him suddenly speaking shook me out of my thoughts. “I mean, don’t fuck him. But fuck him. You know?”. Sometimes, it was hard for Edwin to find the right words. It wasn’t because he didn’t know what to say, but rather the fact he had so many things to say that it just ended up blocking his mind ultimately. “I know”.

“This is some sweet home alabama shit” “Shut up, Austin. They just fell asleep together, no big deal” “Okay guys, but I’m getting hungry. Should we wake ‘em up now?”. His body started to shift beneath me, both of us fully waking up by the noise the others were making. “Good morning, honey bubbas!” all three of them were towering over us. The sight was rather scary, with their creepy grins plastered on their faces. “What time is it?” Edwin asked sleepily. He seemed a bit disoriented. “Time for you to get up and make us some food! Mama Honoret went out with the niñitos, so we’re all by ourselves”.

Slowly, we got out of bed to go find something to eat in the kitchen. Ding Dong. The doorbell rang. “Do you guys expect someone?” I asked confused. None of them were able to meet my eyes, looking slightly uncomfortable and at a loss for words. Instead of waiting for a reply, I went straight to the door to open it. “Wait!” “Hold up!” “Don’t” “No!”. Too late. There he stood, three boxes of pizza in his hands. “Uhm, hey”. My first instinct was to slam the door shut in his face and cuss the others out for not telling me sooner. However, on second thought, I decided against it. “Hi. Come in, I guess”. Awkwardly, he greeted his friends and made his way towards the kitchen to put the food on the counter. “So, uhm how about we watch some Netflix while we eat? On My Block sounds good?” Edwin tried to distract from the obvious thick tension in the air. I wasn’t going to ruin what should’ve been a chill night with my favorite people (minus Caleb) and just said “Sure, sounds good”.

The whole night was spent with Zion staring me down from his seat and Edwin exaggeratedly laughing at the funny moments to avoid the awkward atmosphere. Brandon was busy shoving his face with pizza – probably so that he didn’t have to speak. Nick and Austin were arguing about the gang situation in Freeridge. “If he wants his little brother to live a better life, then why is he dragging him into it? Isn’t he the gang leader or something? Just let your brother go to school and boom, problem solved” “It’s not that easy, bro! You want Oscar to lose his street credibility? Might as well put his clown suit on already”.

When I shifted to find a better position, his eyes were still on me. So, I decided to send him a quick text in hopes of making him stop.

< Dude, stop staring. Ur making me mad >

< I’m not staring, u must be trippin shawty >

< first of all, you’ve been staring since season 1 chapter 2. We’re on season 2 now. Second of all, if you call me shawty one more time imma rip ur ass open >

He visibly gulped at my last sentence, contemplating what to reply but ultimately deciding against it and sliding his phone back into his back pocket. Quietly, he stood up exclaiming to the group that he had to leave. A loud sigh of relief left Brandon’s lips, as if he had been waiting for this moment the whole night. “Thank god” he mumbled lowly, yet everyone could hear him clearly but decided to ignore it. “I’ll see you guys on Monday”. With that, he immediately left.

“I think I’ll call it a night. Haven’t really slept well recently”. It was true, I could barely fall asleep nowadays. Tired or not, the night wasn’t my best friend anymore. Everything was keeping me up. The drama with Caleb, the new life I yet had to adjust to – the boys made it easier, though -, and the passing of my parents. It was all too much at once. How was I supposed to comprehend all of this in just a matter of three months? Exactly, there was no waysomeone could deal with that in such a short period of time. The first couple of weeks I was as good as could be expected under the circumstances, but now it all seemed to slowly catch up on me.

“What! No! This was supposed to be a chill night, followed by the best sleepover of all time!”Edwin stood up, trying to make me stay by hugging my body tightly. “Yeah, you can’t leave! Not when Edwin is acting like a crackhead again” Brandon said, his arms securely wrapped around my shoulders. “Aight, I guess it’s group hug hours”. Soon, I found myself squished between not only Ed and B, but also Nick and later even Austin. “Okay, you guys won. I’ll stay”. They cheered at their victory, all pulling away at once. “But” This made everyone look at me suspiciously. “We’re gonna do a beauty-night!” I exclaimed happily with the biggest smile on my face. “Oh hell nah, I’m out!” Edwin crossed his arms, slightly turning away with his nose all scrunched up and brows furrowed. To be honest, he looked like a baby right now. “… unless this means I’m allowed to use that weird blue face mask from Lush?” he asked full of hope. “Yeah, why not”.

In a matter of minutes, we were all piled up on my bed, discussing what face mask would be the best for whom. “Your skin’s whack! Go put that charcoal one on, do something nice for your pores for once” Ed threw the bottle with the black liquid at Nick who grumpily obliged and started to apply it all over his face. “This feels nice. What exactly is that?” Brandon was looking curiously at the big tube in his hands, examining it in hopes of understanding what he just put on his skin. “It’s clay” I told him. “Clay” he repeated quietly and slowly, to no one in particular. Shaking my head with a content smile on my lips, I turned to Austin to see how he was holding up. We decided to let him try a bubble mask but looking at it now we might have made the wrong decision. Every inch of his face was covered in bubbles, and when I say every inch, I mean Every. Inch. Of. His. Precious. Face. “My eyes are burning, is this normal?”. “… Yes” I lied. Grabbing a wet cloth, I softly started rubbing the mask off of him before he ended up blind.

“Okay, what’s next? Do we paint each other’s nails? Do we play pillow fight? Do we talk about our menstrual cycle?”.

“What the fuck, Edwin?!”.

“Hey! Nothing wrong with talking about periods. It’s a natural thing and frankly, it’s actually good to talk about it with your friends to see, if – “

“Of course it’s a normal thing to talk about, but I think you might’ve forgotten something”.

Edwin looked at Brandon quizzingly. “We don’t have a uterus”.

“… Oh”.

Sometimes, he was just too much, but that’s why we loved him. “I think it’s time for bed, boys”. Reluctantly, they got up and lied on their designated air mattresses. “But Edwin can sleep in your bed? That’s so rude, Ma”. “Shut up, shark boy. I’m her twin, that’s just how we roll” he laughed evilly before turning the lights off and saying our good nights to each other.

“If it bothers you so much, why don’t you just tell him?” B looked at the direction my eyes were trained on. Zion would whisper something into Asya’s ear, making her giggle, then he would whisper something else, making her giggle again and so on. I was getting aggravated. “Can’t. That’s super awkward. I wish he’d just use one of his last functioning three brain cells to consider my feelings and not do all that while we share the same class”. Cleaning his glasses with his cotton shirt, he took his time to say something. “Tell him just that”. Turning around, I rolled my eyes at him. “Caleb, stooop!” she giggled for what felt like the millionth time. Before I knew what was happening, I was right in front of Zion dragging him out of the class and into the empty hallway. “What’s your problem?!” I shouted into his face. “My problem? No, what’s your problem?!”. I was this close to just going back in and ignoring him for the rest of my life, but something inside of me told me to keep going. It was now or never. “My problem is” I began. “You’re so fucking annoying and mean and selfish as fuck, only caring about yourself and never considering other people’s feelings! As if it wasn’t shitty enough how you broke things off, no you also have to flaunt your fling-”I knew it wasn’t just a fling, but honestly? I didn’t give a damn. He was rude, so I was being rude. “- into my face! Be secretive! Or at least just stop when I’m around. That’s all I’m asking from you”.

He didn’t say a single word. Not one. Instead he was searching my eyes, trying to see if I really meant what I just said. Seconds passed, turning into minutes. “Aren’t you going to say something? Defend yourself or whatever?”. Him staying silent made my blood boil because I felt ignored and just really stupid for straight up having an outburst without it affecting him. “There’s nothing to defend because you’re right. About everything. And I’m sorry for not realizing sooner how shitty I was behaving”. To say I was taken aback was an understatement. “That’s all?”. The silence was killing me and all I wanted was to go back to class. “No”. Grabbing my hand, he pulled me towards his chest. “What are you do-“ “Shut up”.

Next thing I knew, (I was pregnant) I felt his lips grazing mine and before I could stop him, he had already fully kissed me. I wanted to feel repulsed, I wanted to feel disgusted, I wanted to feel mad. But I couldn’t. I had missed him and I couldn’t deny it. When I pulled away, he tried to make me stay in place. That’s when my senses came back to me and reality hit me. “Dude, what’s wrong with you?! You have a new girl, remember?”. I pushed his chest, freeing myself. Once I was about to open the door again, I noticed that Zion still hadn’t moved an inch. Turning around, I wanted to tell him to move his ass back to class before both of us would get in trouble. But he never gave me a chance at that.

“I know, but I can’t get my real girl outta my head”.

Also2: I don’t know if I like this part, it’s more of a filler. I tried to put the focus on the relationship between her and Edwin, but also tried to give glimpses of the friendship between her and the rest of the boys. Zion isn’t included much because he’s always hanging out with that other chick. This part is set during the time where both of them try to avoid each other, so I wanted to make it as realistic as possible.

Let me know what your favorite part or line was! Hope you liked it xx

- Cami

[azureparanoia]

[THE PAINFUL LIFE OF A DELUSIONAL GIRL AT CROSSROADS OF AESTHETICS]

           They say imagination is one of the greatest gifts a human can receive from the God and like every blessing it is nothing but a double edge sword. The whimsical nature of what modern day youths love to abuse, an artist, is a gift of sorts. Do you feel an artist just because you create something? Or are you one simply because you jump off the border of mundane normality? Who is to judge if you are an artist or can you even claim to be one? What is the line between an artist and a decent human normie? Some of those questions hunted me since I was very young. Feeling some kind of disjunction from the rest of my peers, from the adults and youngers I walked fairly boring path of what I wish to become. I drew a lot, I wrote even more and in the feeling of being unusual, I found myself wondering is me feeling different so unique.

           Nowadays when what once was minority and unusualness is what’s hyped and mainstream hurts to those who walked down that road for many years before it became popular. For instance, I am great believer and lover of 90s aesthetics, some modernised touch to it is not bad, but rather than parroting Pinterest, I chose the bits and parts of actual 90s I grew up in and incorporate it into my own image. Funny enough, the conscious choices I make over my own style would be called something along the lines of cowardice and indecisiveness. Because I don’t fully dive into the kitsch of those completely misunderstood years of my youth. In my attempt to redefine myself by the means of picking bits and pieces of certain aesthetics, I am called fake by the mases who cannot come up with their own original approach and only follow the trends blindly.

           Does that mean I am unique? Perhaps, but perhaps also this lack of commitment as it can be identified from bystanders’ point of view is what specifies what kind of aesthetics I crave to create with my own looks. Am I boring? Quite frankly yes, I might not have full confidence due to lack of appropriate figure and perhaps I do hold back in those attempts to showcase my own style. However, for one reason or another, I would rather hold back and slowly discover myself and the road I decide to take rather than blindly and with no understanding follow masses. It is much nicer for my eyes to see more grunge or old school designs all around, sadly, knowing the modern society I feel like these have no deeper meaning behind it and it is nothing but façade to match up with the background.

           How does it correspond to arts? I have been writing for about 20 years now, I took breaks more often than created, leave alone published something and by publish, I mean online of course. I hated and still hate all of my work, but gaining slightly more confidence, or simply learning to care less, I chose to share with the world how much of a crap I can create. I, by no means, am not an artist although I do share one’s extremely self-satisfactory and needy attitude towards life. In short, I need people to see my creation and whether they crave more of it or reject it completely, I simply cannot stop. It also corresponds to me writing whenever I feel like it, not when I see demand for it. The gift to move someone with my own words is undoubtfully a fruitless dream that even massive authors struggle with. Just because your text sells, does not mean you are worth the title and just because you’re unknown to anyone does not mean you cannot hold one.

           In the end, it comes down to how you wish to express yourself or more like, how you want to be seen by others. For me calling myself an artist would be nothing but pretentious flex, I would rather avoid. Then again, being faced with it and denying it would also make me sound pompous or even ego centrical, fishing for those “Oh no, you’re so talented” compliments. In either of those scenarios, I would not feel myself to be myself but something that my image demands of me. Then again, what am I even? That is something I still fail to define and with every line of each hated piece I create, I wonder. Writing, reading, writing more, rereading, editing, fixing, deleting, adding, moving on, going back, writing, reading, rewriting and so forth. My life contains of boring daily routines and those writer spikes that hit me like a fucking bolt form a blue, when I cannot live, breath or even function if I do not put those words down. Just like right now, I know it will flop and no one will pay attention to it, but oh damn, I could have not done it differently. This is what you could consider “an artist attitude”, while although it sounds all nice and edgy which I would love to go for, the very same edgy and stubborn attitude I showcase would never allow me to admit it.

           Do I feel like an artist? Hell no. But would I love to be in position when I can openly say I am one? Definitely no. Thus, at the same time wanting to be something different than the rest of the masses and desire to keep this image I have craved into my skin over the years is making me unable to define myself still being very strict at how I want to express myself. At this point my toaster brains are already shredded into pieces of unreadable scrawls flying on the soft breeze of an easy choices I wish I was bright enough to make. This is just a pure ridiculousness of modern times. When I was younger because being different wasn’t cool or anything, I felt like fish in the water of my own loneliness and by no means it was a happy life, but I felt confident in what I was. Now, when it’s so popular to have depression, be sad bean that likes nerdy things, my emo side kicks in and almost screams that I cannot be like that anymore.

           When I was growing up and slowly discovered my sexuality, not going one-way ticket only, but being totally interested in anyone that was human, despite genders, ages etc, was hell’s porch, because if felt like I was not supposed to be like this. Strangely enough, I felt better about it then as it worked well with my selfish self-proclaimed uniqueness rather than now when it is just as popular as watching anime. And I am not saying there is anything wrong about it, I just do not feel included in those openly open minor groups that are no longer minorities and stormed the social medias with their colourfulness. I no longer feel confident in my own skin, because of how something which once was so unusual you can now see around every corner. I feel like I’ve been stripped of my own integrity because of how popular pro-LGBTQ+ is right now and I watch those young people and whenever I wish to be happy with them over their pride and courage at the back of my head I keep wondering “Are you for real or is it just because it’s popular now?”

           And here I sit alone in my room, completely hopeless, as I not only no longer have what defined me as unique human being, but also don’t feel welcomed into the minority I should feel so connected to. Because I’m not colourful enough? Because I’m not over the top enough? Because I’m too normal? I am just a boring girl, living my life, not hiding anymore in the closet, but not screaming at the world with “I AM BISEXUAL, HAIL TO MY UNIQUENESS!”. That way, I do not feel either part of stereotypical heterosexual society, nor part of the new rainbow movement. I feel like I am standing between those two fractions with no place of my own. I still remember that Queer was supposed to be “we do not label anyone”, but it’s the most labelling shit ever from my perspective as it completely cuts out people like myself. For instance, I am bisexual, but I do not feel queer because of how it is advocated.

Finally, I realise that I am not part of anything. I am not an artist, because claiming so would mess up my image and I’m not that talented either. I do not feel part of LGBTQ+ community because I am too normal for this. I do not feel part of geeks or nerds because I do not find all geeky/nerdy shit that interesting. If I think about it from outsider’s perspective, I could say that sure makes me quite unique in comparison to modern time young adults, but does it? Just like with my style, I chose bits and pieces of minorities and majorities that suit me and feel right with my aesthetics, but does that mean I am different or does it mean I am just fake and half-assed at everything? I will never know, but there is something both tormenting and fun about this crossroads I stand at and perhaps one day I will choose one way, one mass to follow or just sit here alone and watch it all burn. This is fine.

[que-pasa-calabasa]

que-pasa-calabasa’s Good Omens fic rec masterpost

In no particular order, except for the fact that I’m putting all the PWP (or close approximations thereof) together at the bottom. Some will be not be show-canon compliant as they predate the release. Summaries are copy-pasted from the ao3 summary; italics are my own commentary added. 

is it that we are dying? (5k, G): England, 1349, the middle of the 14th century. The black death rages, and Aziraphale has to help a dying demon escape from a church. Sad and sweet, completely indulgent hurt/comfort

Don’t Play With Holy Water (30k, M): When the Bentley goes missing, Crowley isn't sure what to make of it. Unbeknownst to him, a certain lurking demon is waiting to settle an old score... A wild ride full of peril and body-swapping, Aziraphale is a BAMF

Mirror, Mirror (44k, T): Adam, Eve, and Crawly flee Eden through the Western Gate, and it turns out that that simple decision makes all the difference in the world... Parallel-universe Crowley is hilariously evil, regular-degular Crowley takes a turn as the bad-ass

with my mind on my money (and my money on my mind) (3k, T): Mr. Fell was as eccentric as Tim might expect a rare book dealer with a connoisseur's knowledge of cannabis strains to be, and he couldn't help being fond of him. Aziraphale and Crowley do weed, what more is there to say?

In which Adam challenges Crowley to a drinking contest and it is a terrible idea (1k, T): It is a rather foolish thing to set a bet with the devil, or even with a devil, unless you have an ace—or better yet, all the aces in the deck—up your sleeve.But if you are the Antichrist, the Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is Called Dragon, Spawn of Satan, etc., etc., well…you were born with all the aces up your sleeve, and the only admonishment you need is “Have fun, kiddo, and don’t screw him over too hard.”  Pure humor, entertaining drunk!Crowley

Game Over, Insert Coin (14k, M): An Account of Certain Events occurring in the Groundhog Day AU no one asked for, in strict accordance as shall be shewn with Narrative Interference of an (Un)predictable Nature for the Sleepless Reader. Exactly what it says on the tin, all your normal Groundhog Day AU angst

A Matter of Convenience (12k, T): “You know,” Crowley rasped as he struggled to scrape himself off the ground, “I can't shake the feeling that there must be an easier way to go about this.”A possible take on the birth of the Arrangement. There’s some sadness, some historical fun, and some Hurt Boys (tm)

Rarefied Air (3k, E): Earth is getting older, news is getting worse, and an angel has to go to extreme heights to get any peace and quiet at all. But as close as you can get to Heaven, you're still never far from Hell. (Hell hasn't frozen. Crowley nearly has.) There’s explicit sex in this but it’s so much more than PWP

Dark and Stormy Night (or Never Underestimate an Angel) (5k, T): “Hmph. I suppose you think that, just because I’m an angel, that I’m too tame to read a scary story properly?” Silly and cute, Crowley and Aziraphale are weird godfathers to the Them

The Curse of Horemheb (66k, M): “The locals call her Bibân el Molûk, but she’s better known as the Valley of the Kings.”Or: Aziraphale and Crowley run into each other in Luxor in 1908 and find themselves confronted with the consequences of actions three thousand years old. Sprawling multi-era adventure with some good fun tropes

off the record (8k, T): Crowley has to submit a biannual report, but there are some things that he often neglects to include. Cute, sweet almost-meta on the natures of Crowley and Aziraphale

A Sticker Situation (1k, G): Everyone's favorite angel and demon are innocently driving past a gas station when Crowley notices a giveaway that he absolutely must participate in. Crowley is a huge James Bond nerd

Under the Apple Tree (6k, T): Crowley finds himself in a tight spot, and Aziraphale dares to hope his help could turn into something more. Devastating, if you like tragic hurt/comfort this is the one for you

Essentially Social Chameleons (2k, G): In short, Aziraphale and Crowley are not as good at blending in with mortals as they think they are. There are better places to discover this than Newton and Anathema's baby's christening, but, well, we're here now. Very silly, one my my favorite genres (humans are confused by Crowley and Aziraphale)

the bucket list (13k, E): There was a certain look that Aziraphale wore occasionally—a pinched sort of moue that looked like he’d just taken a very large mouthful of cinnamon—which meant he thought Crowley was being ridiculous. He had put it on.“Hang on,” he had said. “You want us to do human things?” *If you're going to go native, you might as well go all the way. Crowley and Aziraphale decide to try some fun human things, there’s some obvious smut but it’s not what it’s really about

Milton Was Right (1k, T): Adam knows where most babies come from, but is pretty sure that doesn't apply to him. Aziraphale and Crowley show their usual levels of competence in explaining where antichrists come from. Just...extremely funny

it's the light (it's the obstacle that casts it) (5k, T): It's like having a curtain pulled back on something he wasn't expecting to see. A surprise punch-and-judy at an up-scale restaurant, a lobster thermidor when he's ordered an ale.Crowley's gleefully trying to wrap his head around the fact that Aziraphale is speaking Polari. Because of course he is. Or: The Patron Saint of London's LGBT Community is real, and he lives in Soho. One of my favorites

HERE BE SMUT

The One in Which Crowley Discovers Wanking (5k, E): It began, like most memorable events in Crowley’s life did, with a bad decision; like most bad decisions, it involved poor impulse control and copious amounts of alcohol. The Antichrist had been born, and he put on lipstick and kitten heels to deal with it, but knew that the clock was ticking, and at times when time was slipping away, it helped to hold onto a bottle of gin. Also what it says on the tin, Crowley jacks off while Aziraphale sort of helps

Come Fuck Me Hips (5k, E): Crowley has had a fantasy about Aziraphale for centuries now. Too bad the angel would never take him up on it. Except, as it turns out, he absolutely would. Crowley’s a bottom and Aziraphale is a service top, this is pretty much the only dynamic I accept

I Was Born to Love You (28k, E): Crowley shows up to take Aziraphale to lunch, and for the first time in quite a good while, he flashes just a bit of ankle. And that's how it all begins. Fun banter, hot sex

The Mysteries of Ladies’ Knickers (2k, E): Somewhere in the fall of 1963, Aziraphale was issued a new body. Later, he was never entirely sure if the mix-up following the assignment of its replacement was intentional or purely accidental. He had his suspicions. Crowley was not sure how to feel about it. It’s hot, Aziraphale is a woman temporarily, there’s sex, you know the drill

Love Hath Made Thee a Tame Snake (3k, E): He was the bloody Serpent of Eden, and he wasn’t going to stand for this kind of flagrant trespassing. Kind of borderline fluff/smut, the first half is mostly cute snake!Crowley

Killer Queen (2k, E): In hindsight, Crowley reflected, it was probably not one of his best or brightest ideas to introduce a six-thousand-year-old virgin to the subtle and intricate matters of sexual intercourse. Things could, frankly speaking, get a little out of hand. (Or, Aziraphale has a sexual awakening.) Oh God, hilarious and sexy, Aziraphale treats sex like food and wants to try aLL THE THINGS

Tryst on a Hot Church Roof (2k, E): Crowley has some fantasies. Aziraphale encourages him to explore them and not to be embarrassed. Neither of them can really take roleplay seriously but they still have a good time. Those nerds trying to sexily roleplay and failing is one of my fav tropes

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Thirsty Tweets

Hello! Happy Monday! I had a job that it turns out I can’t take because the hours are piss poor and unreasonable. But I hit 190 followers so sweet! I’m also a tad feverish so forgive the rambles. Below you’ll find the first of six requests I’ve taken off of the lovely @loki-the-fox. It says reader but so sorry- I typically write for OC’s and when it comes to RPF I refuse to write reader inserts- it’s my line. Sorry! 

Masterlist

Request by Anon on 11/15/18 Hello! I had this sorta funny idea that I wanted to request? But basically Tom and the reader are both on the set for “reading thirst tweets” and while they both read them out loud they get shocked, flustered and possessive over each other as each one goes. The reader even agrees with some of them. I was either thinking that they could do a joint interview, like Kevin Hart and his wife, or they could watch each other read em out loud behind the camera ??? idk, I just thought how funny it would be to see Tom react to all the thirsty tweets he gets. If you can’t incorporate everything though, that’s completely okay!!

Thirsty Tweets

“Monica,Tom! Set in ten!” A crew member yelled after popping her head into the room I was currently pacing. Interviews and such were always hard for me. I had never really thought I would get to a place where I’d be doing interviews on live telly. I’d never thought I’d get this far at all to be honest, yet here I am.

“Your hands are shaking.”

Tom came out of nowhere or so it seemed. His footsteps always seemed soft and it never made any sense to me. The way he moved and walked showed his confidence. His steps would echo on solid floors but in here, the carpet silenced his movements letting him sneak up on me. I hated it. I hated how he would catch me off guard.

“I’m fine.”

I hated him. Or at least, I wanted to. He was tall and lean and beautiful. His kindness was remarkable. I could swear his voice, accent and all could melt butter fresh out of the fridge. And I had to spend the last year working with him. It wasn’t fair.

Before I would have sworn men like him were imaginary. Nope, turns out that’s not the case. They just are never interested in girls like me. That’s why I got the role of ‘Mary’. I was plain compared to the actresses he was used to working with but could clean up pretty. That was just what they needed.

Now I know the sad truth, men like him exist. I want one and can’t have one. Well, that’s not true, I had one. Well almost. I got to make friends with one while he pretended not to be one.

I know it’s a part of the job but after some of the scenes we’ve filmed together it’s hard not to get flustered around the man. He’s just so perfect and then knowing first hand what it feels like to have him almost naked and rutting against me- it’s just too much. I know what the man’s ass feels like for god’s sake. You grab that ass while hearing him moan in your ear and not feel anything. I’m an actress yes but I’m not immune to him.

I didn’t think it would be a problem. Don’t catch feelings for your coworkers. It seems like an easy enough rule and he played a bit of an asshole in his part. It should have been easy.

If it was so easy why was having him even in the same room as me making me turn into a freaking mess. It was honestly annoying. It wasn’t like me to be a flustered mess because of a man.

Filming is one thing. It’s my thing. It’s what I do. I always felt in my element. Getting on that stage where I’m just me was different. And being just me next to Him? Oh no, that’s a whole different ballgame and I suck at ball.

“You two are up.” The same woman popped her head in again and waved us on. Yay!

“It will be okay.” The sound of his voice drew my eyes to him and I hated it how the sound of it relaxed me. “I’ll take care of you.” He promised me and my mind went right to the gutter.

Rather than say the not so professional thought that ran through my head I just nodded mutely and went to follow him out. Tom however wouldn’t have that and instead he took my hand and tucked it around his arm. This man, I can’t even begin to deal with him. If only he wasn’t so nice. That would make it easier.

“Welcome! I’m so glad to have you both!” Neil stood from behind his desk on the bright stage as they stepped on. “I’ve got Tom Hiddleston and Monica Martin from the new film ‘Before Dawn’ here with me today. Gosh, it’s so good to have you both here.”

Neil shook Tom’s hand and pulled him into a quick hug, clapping him on the back before turning his attention to me with a whistle. I always hated how I felt like a piece of meat on these type of shows.

“You look amazing, Monica. Doesn’t she look great, Tom?”

“Thank you.” I hated how my face felt warm as Tom took a moment to eye me as if he hadn’t seen me pacing around the room for the last 20 minutes or so. He was such a good actor that he could almost convince me that he was impressed with the little blue dress I wore when he agreed.

After being pulled into a hug I took my place on the couch next to Tom. Heat radiated off of him and I tried to ignore it. I really did. It was just as hard to try and ignore how good he smelled. But I had to try. I had to somehow survive this interview and the rest of the press tour.

“Now, Monica- You’ve made a bit of a splash with your role as Mary. This is your first major break, isn’t that right?”

I nodded but Tom answered before I could find my voice. “She’s amazing in it.”

“Thank you.” Don’t blush. Don’t blush. I’m blushing.

“Now you’ve both been working very close during filming. What’s it like working with someone as well known as Tom?” There was no way to avoid answering that question myself. When the weight of Tom’s hand settled on my knee I took a deep breath to try and steady my voice. He gave what I’m sure he thought was a reassuring squeeze. All it did was send butterflies into a frenzy inside my stomach.

“Tom’s been amazing to work with.” I freaking gush and it’s hard not to cringe at how fan girl I sound. “He’s been so kind and patient with me.”

“Such glowing praise.” Neil opened two envelops of and pulled out stacks of cards as Tom laughed and fidgeted in his seat. Even when he is fidgeting he looks good and I hate him for it. Or at least, I want to.

“We’re going to play a game.” Neil announces to us and frankly I hate games.

“A game?” I parrot back dumbly and instantly wish I could just keep my mouth closed. Games on shows like this were never a good thing.

“I’m going to give you a stack of cards with tweets on them about Tom.” Neil reached out with a stack of cards over his desk and reluctantly I take them.

“Oh gosh.” As I take the cards I can’t help but laugh. I don’t want to play this game.

“After he’s going to read some about you.” Tom snags his envelop with his stack of cards still inside.

“This will be fun.” He says as he laughs and it’s not fair that his laugh sounds that good.

“Go on, let’s get started!” Neil sits back in his office chair behind his desk to enjoy the show.

“They could make a movie of Tom Hiddleston just drinking tea and I’d fucking watch it.” I couldn’t help but laugh after I finished reading the tweet. “You wouldn’t be alone.” I admit.

“Would you watch it?” Tom nudged my shoulder with his as he laughed.

“I’ve seen you drink plenty of tea already, thank you.” He pouted and I laughed harder at him because what else can you do? “Okay next one. ‘Tom Hiddleston could run me over on his run and I’d suck his dick.’ Well that escalated.” I laugh and look to Tom. “Please never run me over during your morning runs?”

“I promise not to!” We both seemed to be working hard to ignore the fact that I just had to say ‘I’d suck his dick’. I mean- that’s what the tweet said but still. There was a blush on his face and I’m sure I looked no better.

“Oh god.” I laugh before reading the next one. “Tom could not shower for six months and I’d still let him fuck me.”

“What?” He couldn’t stop laughing. “I’m worried about this person. Value yourself. Know your worth. Insist on regular showering.”

“I’d not let you near me if you haven’t showered in even a few days. I know how you sweat after your runs.”

“They are just getting worse and worse.” Tom was fidgeting more and more. He took his glasses off and cleaned them at least three times since we have started and in general he was simply not sitting still.

“Tom could-” my laughter cut off the words. “Tom could bend me over and.. I can’t read this. I- Nope.” I tapped out as Tom snagged the last paper from me.

“Oh dear.” He said sternly. “I think I’d like to try this.”

I could have died when he winked at me and slipped the paper into his pocket. What the hell did that even mean!? Who did he want to try that with? Why did I care? Oh right, because he’s fucking beautiful and sweet and sexy and the idea of him doing what was written on that paper was so out of left field.

I mean really, Handcuffs? Bent over a counter? Mirrors? That’s not exactly light weight naughty in my book and while it totally would fit the character he played in ‘Before Dawn’ I didn’t expect that out of him. And why for the love of god and all that is holy did he wink at me?! Why the hell did I feel like I was on fire? Am I on fire?

“You still with us Monica?” Neil’s voice cut through my thoughts and oh fuck, I zoned out thinking about Tom and handcuffs. It’s a good thing I’m not a man because there would be some damning evidence on cable TV of where my thoughts went.

“Yeah sorry!” This could be easily brushed off, right?

“Where did you go?” Tom asked and I wanted to kill him, I really did.

“Oh, just you know.” Great. Classy. Good job Monica. Way to go. Could I make it any more obvious? Someone stop me.

“Well you’re done for now. I’ll let you off the hook. See, that wasn’t such a bad game!” Neil laughs as he motions to Tom. “Tom’s turn to start reading.”

“Oh god.” The groan comes out before I could stop it as he pulls out the cards.

“Monica’s got that girl next door you’d like to bone thing going on.” Tom reads before laughing. “None of the girls next door looked half as good as she does. Where did this fellow grow up? I should have lived there.”

I try not to blush. It’s just an act and it’s what’s expected of him. Still, it’s hard not to have butterflies when someone like him agrees with something like that.

“Whatever.” The word is mumbled and I did mean to say it.

“Whatever?” There is a hint of challenge in Tom’s voice. “I’m serious.”

I try and deflect with fidgeting and laughing. It works for him, it could work for me, right? Yeah, no. I’m pretty sure I’m not selling the fidget look like he does. He had to plan his fidgeting. That’s the only way it could come off so well for him. That made sense, right?

“Next up! We’ll do a few more then switch again. They get better and better.” Neil urged and I was worried.

“Okay, okay.” Tom relented and I could feel the seat of the couch shift as he moved to try and get comfortable. “’I’d like to put Monica up on that counter and eat her like a sweet potato pie.’ Wow.” It was weird seeing Tom as a loss for words. His cheeks burned and the blush looked good on him.

“That’s… I’m never going to eat sweet potato pie again.” I force out as I tried to act like I was okay with strangers saying that to me. As if they hadn’t been screaming those things at me since I was 13.

“I’ve never had sweet potato pie and now I…” Shaking his head, Tom fidgeted more, loosening his tie as Neil laughed. It was entertaining for him and for the masses. Our ‘fans’ would eat up our discomfort and we’d play it off as if it was nothing because we are ‘actors’ and we’re ‘public commodities’.

“Next, next.” Neil urged.

“Monica could take a strap on and wreck my ass and I’d thank her.” Tom cleared his throat. “Well now. Perhaps these thoughts are better kept to oneself.”

I tried to laugh and something managed to come out of me. The look Tom gave me made me think he didn’t believe I found it funny at all. He’d be right about that. I wanted nothing more than for this interview to be over.

“Moving on.” I was thankful he didn’t want to dwell on that one. I wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye after him reading these things about me. “Monica is so hot I’d like to...”

“What?” Tom’s voice trailed off and his whole body seemed to stiffen next to me. It was confusing and I couldn’t understand what was going on.

“I’m not reading this filth.” Tom ripped the stack of papers in half before stacking them and ripping them again.

“Hey now, don’t be like that. It’s just a game.” Neil was clearly caught off guard by Tom’s reaction. I was as well, to be honest.

“Actually, no. I will be like this. I laughed and played along while you made her read inappropriate things said about me but I’ll not subject her to hearing such filth about her. Further, the things I am being asked to read about her are significantly worse than what you asked her to read of me.” Waving the stack of ripped papers at the desk. “This game is bloody disgusting. No one should be spoken about by strangers in such a way as they are speaking of her. No one.”

“Now, we didn’t mean any offense. It was just a fun little game.” Neil back peddled as Tom stood. His back was straight and his shoulders back. It was an impressive sight that made my breath catch in my lungs.

This wasn’t in the plan. We knew what sort of games Neil liked to play on his show. The only surprising thing was Tom’s reaction. It made no sense to me. Why was he acting like a noble and why the hell am I picturing him on a white horse sweeping in to save me.

My internal rambling is cut short when he reached back and plucked my hand up. With a firm tug he pulls me to my feet and I go willingly enough. What the hell is going on?

His grip was warm and firm and good god was his hand large. I wanted him to always hold my hand like this. Looking back, Neil was protesting and trying to salvage the situation but it was clear our interview was over. Tom pulled the microphone off and snagged mine off as well before tossing them both onto the couch behind us.

“Don’t worry, the fallout will land mostly on me.” Tom’s blue eyes turned back on me as he marched forward, pulling me along behind him even still by the hand.

“Tom?” Finally I was able to get control over my feet and plant them on the linoleum in the hall. He’d managed to make it a good ways dragging me behind him. “Why did you do that? What the hell?”

“I...” His voice tapered off and I was stuck watching as he fidgeted more. It really wasn’t fair how good he looked as he raked his fingers through his disheveled curls.

“You what?” I didn’t mean to snap at him, honest.

“I won’t act like I’m okay with people saying those things about you.” That made no sense. It comes with the job. Hell, it comes with being a damn woman.

“Why?” A sigh rips itself through my chest. “It’s not like you have a reason to care.”

“I beg your pardon?” The look in his eyes gave me pause. It was fierce and strong and sharp. He still had my hand in his iron tight grip. “I have every bloody reason to care.”

“I don’t understand?” Look at me, I’m clearly following what is going on here. Actually no, no I’m not. Because what it seems like is going on here is that I’ve lost my damn mind. Either that or Tom-

Never did he let go of my hand. That sticks out in my mind. Don’t judge me, it all happened so fast. One moment he was looking at me with that fierce look and the next his other hand was resting on my neck and pulling me toward him. I came willingly enough. How could I not? My whole brain seemed to stop working as he leaned down.

“Maybe you’ll understand this.” What does that even mean? Oh- Oh that’s what he means.

His lips were warm and soft. I could feel the scratch of his stubble against my face as his warm breath fanned out over me. He stepped forward and I blindly allowed him to lead me. How could I not? Part of me was scared that if I dared to open my eyes this would have been some crazy dream.

My back met the wall and that snapped me back to reality. When the hell did I put my hand on his chest? Why the hell am I running it up and wrapping it around his neck? What the fuck is going on? He pulled back, giving us some space between us and I gasped for air.

“Forgive me, that was very forward. I just-”

“Do it again.” I demanded even as I pulled him to me. “Do it again if you meant it.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. As his lips molded themselves against mine again I took a quick moment to mentally thank god and Neil for the Thirsty Tweets game.

Tag list for Tom: @dangertoozmanykids101, @alexakeyloveloki, @theoneanna, @0-0-0-0-0-0-0-7, @j-u-s-t-4, @winterisakiller, @wegingerangelica

Want in on future tags? Drop me a line and let me know what type of stories you’d like to be tagged in and I’ll add you to the list. I write for Tom and marvel. 

[official-mermaid]

queliot + 20 if you want!

Thank you!! This got…. maybe longer than I was intending for it to. It’s possible it no longer counts as a mini-fic. But like. That’s fine, right? That’s fine. (I also posted it on AO3)

Things You Said That I Wasn’t Meant to Hear—

In the end, when the mirror fragmented Quentin into pieces, hisshards scattered to the wind. Pieces of him ended up in trees, floating in the ocean,in the backyard of his childhood home. He couldn’t have told you how manypieces there were.

In part because he was in pieces and therefor could nottalk. In part because there were too many pieces to count.

It’s a funny thing, magic. Things don’t necessarily happenthe way you expect them to.

Quentin, for instance, expected death.

He could feel the pieces of himself drawing together likemagnets. He could gather himself up, slowly put himself back together piece bypiece. Minor mending, as it were.

He was half-aware, uncertain if he’d remember this when he’dmanaged to get back together completely. Unsure if he’d remember the piece ofhimself he’d found on the bow of the Muntjac. Or the piece of himself he’dfound on a farm in Indiana. Or the piece of himself he’d found amongst thetiles of the Mosaic.

It was strange—he was traveling more than he’d evertraveled before, but in this unreal, dreamlike state.

He got more aware as more pieces came together.

He figured that once he found the last piece, he’d rejointhe land of the living.

In a distant sense, he understood that everyone believed hewas gone for good. He’d, after all, found one piece of himself hidden among thecards that Julia had sent flying in the air. Another piece next to a burnt,blackened peach. Another piece caught in the pages of a book.

He hadn’t been quite near whole at that point, but heunderstood that he was seeing a memorial for himself.

That was before he’d found the piece that had his name, soit hadn’t hit him yet.

Now, there was only one piece left, only one piece to find,one last minor mending to perform, only—

Only—

Only—

He was here—so close to being corporeal again. So close tobeing able to come back. Sensing, a little bit, that the final piece he neededwas nearby.

But something had caught his attention.

Eliot, pacing, frantic, angry—

He was in the Physical Cottage, watching Eliot and Margo.Feeling like it was something he shouldn’t be seeing. Unable to turn away.

“Eliot,” Margo said, in an uncharacteristically placatingtone. “Calm down. You’re gonna give yourself a migraine. You don’t mean that.”

Eliot scoffed, his mouth twisted into a humorless,disbelieving smile. “Oh, don’t I?”

“El, come on—”

“Bambi, he had no business being there! How could he—howcould any of you, frankly, send him in there?” Eliot snapped.

“Eliot, he volunteered.”

“Well, that’s the problem. Isn’t it?” Eliot groaned, leaningagainst the wall heavily. He tipped his head back to look at the ceiling. “Himand his stupid fucking heroics. Him and his lack of self-preservation. This is justlike Castle Blackspire, how didyou not see that?”

Flashes of Eliotshooting the Monster went through Quentin’s mind—Eliot had stopped Quentin fromplaying martyr once already.

“Okay, no, that wasn’t that same—Blackspire was him trying sell himself foreternity, we all knew that. This wasn’t supposed to be a dangerous mission. Noone knew anyone was going to die.”Margo was crossing her arms,looking like she was losing patience.

“What are yousaying, it wasn’t supposed to be a suicidemission?” Eliot bit out. Quentin startedto take a step towards him—uncertain, hesitant. Still incomplete enough to feellike this was a dream. Complete enough to know what Eliot was trying to say.

Margo’s eyeswidened. “Eliot, I’d be real careful about the next words out of yourmouth,” she replied through her teeth.

Eliot rolled hiseyes, turning away. “Whatever, Margo. He knew what he was doing.And you should’ve been paying closer attention.”

“Fuck you,” Margospat. “You don’t get to blame me for this. Sorry I was a little preoccupied savingyour ass.”

“What, you want toshift some of the blame onto me?” Eliot said, losing the fight in his voice. “Goright ahead, I won’t disagree. There’s plenty of blame to goaround. We could blame Julia, who should’ve known better. Penny, for lettinghim do it. Alice, for being there. Or hey, let’s blame Quentin. He’s the one that chose to sacrifice himself.”

Margo let out asigh. “Okay, baby, I’m gonna let how much of a dick you’re being slide. I know—Iknow what he meant to you.”

Eliot shook hishead. “You don’t, that’s the thing. You don’t know what hemeant to me. No one does. Hell, hedoesn’t—I never got the chance to—”

A spark of somethinghappened inside Quentin’s almost-chest. There was something he was missing—somethinghe didn’t understand. The unreal quality of the air sharpened.

“Oh, honey,” Margosaid. She took a seat on Eliot’s bed, hanging her head a little. “You think youwere subtle?”

Eliot half-laughed,but the sound was brimming with nerves. “Bambi, you have no idea how much I’veheld back. How much I’ve hidden.”

She raised hereyebrows. “Given how obvious you were, I’d say that must mean he was yourfucking soul mate or something.”

Eliot glanced ather, his eyes pained.

“Well, shit,” she said.

“Did he ever,” Eliotstarted slowly, “tell you anything about the Mosaic?”

She shrugged. “Iread the letter. I know that like, some other versions of you got old and died.What about it?”

“We remembered. Weremembered everything.”

Margo stared for afew moments. “And you never toldme?” she said, and it came outstrained.

Quentin studied Eliot’sface, taking a few weightless steps towards him. He knew, he remembered—but therewas so much distance. He understood in a vague, barely-there sense what washappening. But the part of him that understood—

Well, it was havingthe noncorporeal equivalent of a panic attack.

Which is to saythat Quentin was actually quite calm and clear. There was just somethingbubbling below, like a threat to erupt when he mended that final piece.

“Bambi,” Eliotsaid, his voice cracking just a little. “I so wanted to tell you. I couldn’t, I—youdon’t understand what I did.”

“So explain it tome,” Margo said, almost gentle. Her eyes were both soft and flinty.

“After we remembered—look,alright, it was fifty years of memories, fifty years of feelings, justall at once, okay? So just like. Try and imagine it—in a matter of moments, yougo from being you to having this whole other life in yourhead, alright? All at once, all at fuckingonce.” Eliot was talking fast, hishands moving. “It was overwhelming, and terrifying, and nauseating, and yeah,alright—kind of beautiful. We were—God, we had a son together, Margo.”

Margo’s face wasslack and her eyes wide, any betrayal at being left out of the loop seeming tohave been forgotten.

“Holy shit, El,” she breathed.

“No fuckingkidding,” he said with a heavy sigh.

“A son?”

A small, sad smile appearedon Eliot’s face, fading quickly before it reached his eyes. “His name wasTeddy,” he said softly. “And he was smart, and he was snarky, and he was—God,Margo, you would’ve been a great godmother, you know that?”

Margo sniffed, andQuentin realized, vaguely, that she had tears in her eyes.

“I thought—or rather,I remember thinking about that a lot. How much Teddywould have loved you. I told him stories about you.” Eliot’s gaze dropped tothe floor. “God, it really was beautiful.”

It really was—Quentin could almost understand howbeautiful it had been. He knew, on some level.

“Fucking hell,Eliot,” Margo replied.

“Yeah.”

“Wait, but—that was,like, the middle of the fucking key quest, why weren’t you and Q all—” Margogestured vaguely.

Eliot looked up ather, a bare, hopeless smile on his face. “Margo…” he said, softly.

She stared at him. “Whatdid you do?”

Eliot took a breath,exhaling slowly. “Well, you know our Q,” he said steadily. “He wanted to jumpright in. Give us a shot. He said we had proof of concept.”

Margo’s gaze wasback to being that soft-flinty, like she couldn’t decide between anger or sympathy.“What did you do?” she repeated, sounding borderline disappointed.

Quentin watchedEliot’s face, curious—

“I told him—that itwasn’t us. Those memories, it wasn’t me and it wasn’t him. Not if we had achoice.” Eliot pressed his palms against the wall behind him, tapping with hisfingers. “I told him no, you know? I was… Afraid. Afraid of what would happento us. Afraid of—I don’t know. Something real.”

“Oh, Eliot,” Margosaid, her face softening. “You must have broken his heart.”

At that Quentinfelt something—something come back to him, a feeling—

Eliot let out ahuff of laughter. “I know. All because I was afraid. I never got the chance to—Iwas going to tell him, Bambi. I was going to tell him.”

“All of this, itjust—” Margo sighed. “It fucking sucks,Eliot. Jesus.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

Eliot’s lips twitchedup in a smile. “Yeah. Me too.”

The piece, themissing piece—

Quentin had to findit. He felt an urgency in him, like he was out of time, like he needed to beback now, even through the dreamlike haze—

The last piece wason Eliot’s windowsill.

Minor mendings.

Quentin put himselfback together.

It was—a strange experience,to say the least.

Like all of Quentin’shumanity and baggage and emotional weight came crashing down. He crumpled tothe floor, gasping for air. He was back together, back together and—

And he remembered. Allof it.

“What the fuck?” Margo yelped, getting to her feet.

“Quentin?” Eliot said, disbelief and confusion in hisvoice. “How the hell—what are you—Q, Q, are you okay?”

And then Eliot wason the floor next to him, shaking hands touching his shoulders lightly. Like hewas afraid of Quentin shattering again.

“Water—I need water—”Quentin managed to croak out.

“Margo—” Eliotstarted.

“I’m on it,” shesaid, rushing out of the room.

There was a heavymoment of silence. Eliot’s hands grew steadier on Quentin’s shoulders and he wrappedhis arms around his back.

“Q, how are youhere? I don’t—” Eliot breathed out, pulling him close and tucking his headunderneath his chin. “I don’t understand.”

“I—I fixed it,”Quentin said softly, his voice starting to come back. “I put myself backtogether.”

“Well, I still don’tquite understand, but—God, Q, I’m so fucking happy to see you.”

Quentin shivered alittle, leaning closer into Eliot’s chest. He felt overwhelmed with feelings,overwhelmed in a way that had only happened once before.

“Eliot?” he saidquietly.

“Yeah?”

“I heard.”

Eliot stilledaround him, his hand pausing where it had been stroking his arm.

“You heard?” hesaid.

“Every word,” Quentinreplied.

“Oh.” Eliot clearedhis throat. “And, um. What do you think? About what you heard?”

Quentin considered.The feelings were overwhelming, but he knew.

He knew with every ounceof certainty and clarity he’d always had.

“I think—” Quentin started.“I think we have another second chance.”

Eliot laughed, butit sounded like it was to cover a sob.

“We’ll run out ofthose soon.”

Quentin smiledthrough the tears welling in his eyes, burying his face into Eliot’s shoulder.

“But not yet,” hesaid.

“Fifty years.”

“Proof of concept.”Quentin tipped his head back, gazing up at Eliot with all the adoration hefelt. “Let’s have fifty more, yeah?”

Eliot leaned down,kissing him as an answer.