#it feels blasphemous to say this but loving them makes me so sad now?

[sirhocuspocusfocus]

Blasphemous 2 it's an ok game... not even close to be as good as the first one. (long ass review)

I just finished Blasphemous 2 and I can say that it was a let down. I love, love, LOVE the first game. The art style, music (specially the music), the atmosphere, everything blew my mind the first time I played it and it still does. But in this sequel, everything felt lacking. Something was missing. Felt like a downgrade compared to the first entry. Also, I found an insane amount of bugs and glitches. Anyway, here are the list of things that made this game so 'meh':

1- Pixel Art. While the core of the game continues to use beautiful Pixel Art, the cutscenes now use 2D Animation, and while they look good, they feel out of place with the rest of the game. Yes, they used this style with the last free DLC's trailer, but they kept using Pixel art for the game's cutscenes of the DLC. Ok, I get it, Pixel Art is not easy. Ron Gilbert said it. But still, feels like it lost something really important.

Regarding the enemies, bosses and NPC models: For enemies, they reused some of the old models, a couple with some tweaks but others pretty much the same. Most of the new enemies are not visually impactful like the first one, and the biggest sin is that this applies to the bosses and NPCs. I can count with one hand those who I found interesting.

Sceneries; They were good... but not THAT good. I can recall all the levels in the first game because they were incredible. Gameplay and visual-wise. Here tho, only a bunch were interesting, while most of them barely left any impression in me. 2- Music. Carlos Viola's work is supreme. I can listen the whole OST of the first game any day. In this one tho… like the sceneries, some were good while others I barely noticed they were there. Also, feels like this one has fewer songs than the first game. 3- Gameplay. It is good that now we have couple more weapons and the option to create builds for different playstyles, but at the end of the day, you can turn OP pretty earlier in the game and end up using the same items/sets till the end of the game.

Before I bought the game, I read articles complaining that the game was too easy compared to the first and, boy oh boy, they weren't exaggerating. First thing I noticed is that you can't die by falling off cliff or on traps. You just lose some health and respawn were you fell. But the biggest issue is that all the enemies are way too easy, even the bosses don't present any challenge. The only boss that I actually lost the battle was the one before the ending.

Exploration and secret areas are more accessible and easier to find. Again, losing any challenge and making this a dull experience. Due that, you can get the ability to travel from checkpoint to checkpoint way earlier in the game, which makes the travelling between areas and revisiting old paths, unnecessary unless it's obvious there is a secret there. Ok, it's optional, but it is hard to resist the temptation and not use this ability.

4- Plot. Continues were the DLC left off, but feels like they dumb it down. IDK, it's like everything is too straightforward. Even the NPCs' side quest are lack-lusting. So yeah. I expected much much more from this game and it sadness me that is not even close to the original. As it own, it is not bad. But since this is a sequel, it is impossible not to find all it's faults.

[ananyaananyaananya]

Your bottom rib, and a sweater knitted over your bones

I felt heavy like I couldn't carry myself, I felt so hollow as if my feet couldn't reach the bottom of me. I spoke of you in a way that was almost too blasphemous to not be a lucid dream, like you weren't lying in your unmade bed just the night before, with half your wardrobe scattered on the floor. You looked like a child, not like a wobbly reflection of all the men that ruined my life, like you could kiss my fingertips (again) and make me forget all that I had burdening my clavicle, aching to be let out. Demanding to be felt. I still remember, when you dropped me home last September, and how I had wept like a child in your backseat that still smells wistfully like the strawberry perfume that I spilt all over it and I couldn't even be sorry.

I remember thinking I would never speak or hear my voice again if you didn't call. I waited and waited for you to walk me to the podium, your hand caressing my bottom rib again for the last time, so I picked up the trophy and let it be remembered how I had tried (to be the motel room you stumbled on the door of to escape the scar of permanence in your life). How I let you name the price of my happiness in blood and watch me pour it. You didn't know that the halo over my head was just cosmic light streaming through crooked blinds. Or the sweaters knitted over your bruises were woven from my damn blues. You bruised your knees placing them at my feet for most evenings, but you still couldn't have me back. You kissed tar till your tongue forgot the roadmaps to your teeth but now there are seven seconds between someone who isn't you and me and I don't remember the way you used to breathe.

You'd ask me if you could see me again, while he wouldn't even want to drop me off tonight. I could count on my fingers everything I was sorry for, like "I'm sorry I always say the wrong thing on the phone" or "I'm sorry I wrapped my heartstrings around your throat trying to subdue the finger marks around mine". And I would let him pull me in till there aren't even those seven seconds lingering between us, and he'll fill my mouth with stars knocked loose straight from heaven's lips. He wouldn't tell me I was crushingly beautiful because that's just dumb. The summer slipped off of his tongue and the violent fluorescence makes him dizzy I know. (perhaps he isn't the only one with two corks in his eyes and a bully in his head?) He feels just like my mother's laugh though, startled and perplexed.

Soulmates are an enigma I love him on purpose and you'll smoke your cigarettes and drink your stupid peppermint tea, with a sad smile bejewelling your face that'll remind you that you still miss having me in your passenger seat, and how you regret (making me cry on your birthday then) tossing me in the backseat till you could discard me at the landfill where you now wish you could revisit me. I won't be there, (for you to trace the child on my face and break me again) it wouldn't matter if you're sorry, I wouldn't care if you've prayed for absolution. I hope you fucking choke on it.

[drowthelynes]

me praying to art gods: blease.... make me art anyone else but these two....

bastard art (...bastart) gods: you are in love with their love! so you will stay that way and you will like it,

[oviids]

pls share some of your spn fic recs 🥺🥺

ok, a few things first:

followers and mutuals who do not have supernatural brainworms, kindly avert your eyes

i don’t normally rec or even read much fanfic any more but this is a CRISIS ok (cont.)

there is so. much. content for deancas out there and i have incredibly high standards, several ancient ao3 bookmarks, can speedread, and want to spare you guys the experience of wading through it all.

i also have a section for spn femslash since I was pretty into that back in the day (sadly a lot less fan content for this :/)

I don’t really like au’s or pure smut (I honestly usually just skim or skip those scenes) so if you’re mainly looking for that kind of thing this probably won’t be very helpful to you. jsyk.

i’m not great at describing stuff but i’ll do my best, i’ll also try and add tw’s when neccesary.

i wil try and keep updating this with any other decent fics i find, feel free to rec stuff too since i’m like 7 years behind.(edit 1/25/21) this is getting looooong so i’m going to start making another list on my spn blog rather than update this one

(edit 1/3/21) since this has gotten pretty long i’ve added rating/approximate word counts and marked my particular favorites with an asterisk.

Dean/Cas fic:

So Says The Sword*** - explicit/85k. FUCK its good...au/time travel where dean is not pulled out of hell by cas and says yes to becoming the michael sword. honestly could serve as an alternative to actually watching the show, if you want to get into dean/cas without actually doing that to yourself.

Fata morgana.*  - teen/6k, pst s9 finale. very bela centric and i love it, she finds cas looking for dean in hell.

Redemption Road -misc/600+k. an incredibly long fic from a collaborative writing group back in the day. canon divergent from the end of s6 on, has a cool take on godstiel and the leviathans, as well as the lovecratian mythos connection. ngl when i reread it i only made it about 28% in but imo the casual reader can actually stop around there, the rest concerns a lovecraftian apocalypse that is still good (i think i don’t remember it very well) but not required to enjoy the first half. if you prefer i have an ebook version i can send you on gdrive.

Someone Who's Feeling For Me* - mature/45k, s12. they run into lisa braeden and dean thinks cas is into her while cas thinks dean still likes her. treats lisa way better than the show ever did and the miscommunication is pretty funny rather than annoying.

a turn of the earth - mature/95k. time travel fic where cas from s10 keeps showing up in deans life from a few years before s1 to right before the hellhounds take his soul.  slow burn, good character study, and at one point cas punches the dad in the face and it rules.

On the Wings of War - teen/85k, canon divergent s5. dean accidentally becomes the Horseman of War. plays fun, fast and loose with biblical lore, michael has some rights.

Named - mature/95k, alternate s5. EXTREMELY blasphemous in a fun sexy way. manages to predict metatron almost to a T. there’s one major character death and its literally jesus christ, everyone is very sad about it and it sets the rest of the story rolling. an alternate interpretation of cas’ mission to raise dean from hell which had me on the floor. ngl its kind of misogynistic at points, but its from 2010 and tracks with late oughts-2010 spn (sorry anna the author did you dirty here:/).

The Girlfriend Experience - explicit/15k. uhhh i don’t normally rec or even read smutty stuff unless someone i know is specifically asking for it but this has stuff like sam trying to be a good ally and dean thinking holding hands with cas is ‘kinda gay :/’ minutes after having gay sex with him.

i crippled your heart a hundred times - explicit/19k, s8. cas confesses his feelings and dean spends a long time getting his head out of his ass about it. truly hits different after the actual confession, despite being written six years early it feels like its actually what could have gone down more or less if the writers weren’t talentless demons who hate us.

My Roots Take Flight** - mature/125k. reverse au where cas is a hunter and dean’s an angel...OR IS IT???? an alternate retelling of s4. tw for briefly being set in a psychiatric hospital/the hospital being mentioned somewhat frequently throughout the fic, plus more references to torture in hell and heaven than usual.

The One Thing You Can't Lose* - teen/4k.you know those posts about how cas is a super-strong super-tough ancient warrior but he just lets dean tug him around because he likes it? thats it thats the fic.

Hands, From Which All Things Are Built - teen/14k, post s8′s ‘goodbye stranger.’ cas is on the run with the angel tablet but keeps in touch with sam and dean by text, he and dean still manage to be terrible at Actual communication.

Autrement, Danger - or, The Account of an Exceedingly Long Day - mature/30k, post s11. a monster that takes the appearance of your soulmate leads to some wild miscommunications and dealing with years of repression, also dean gets to see cas’ true form which is always cool. tw for non-graphic mentions of underage sexual assault/sex work.

Down to Agincourt - mature/explicit/900++++k, endverse continuation. endverse!cas survives his encounter with lucifer and discovers another time-displaced dean from s7. i’ve only read the two of four parts but its really good, veeeeery slow burn, has a lot of fun oc’s and takes a rather surprising but (imo) entertaining and intriguing turn into Hellenic history and mythology. usual tw’s for endverse/endverse!cas but nothing graphic, it’s actually pretty light-hearted (relatively speaking of course).

Nothing Equals the Splendor** - explicit/8k, THEE finale fix it fic you’ve been waiting for! posits that the entire final episode was just a (very bad and lame) djinn’s vision.

like moses and batman and james dean - explicit/31k, post s8. explores dean’s trauma and internalized homophoba from his technically canon experience with sex work and its impact on his relationship with cas. the sex work itself isn’t really shown in any detail but it’s still a relatively heavy fic.

Crazy Diamonds - explicit/25k, s4/alternate s14. fresh-out-of-hell dean and dean from 10 years in the future are displaced from time and sent to each other’s present.

where the weeds take root - explicit/30k. au where the men of letters kick them out of the bunker and they accidentally move out into the country, get over their codependence and semi retire. featuring chicken coop building, sam volunteering at a dog shelter, gardening, and blissfully mundane domesticity.

No Resting Place - teen/6k. djinn dream fic, switches back and forth between cas’ dream of being married to dean and retired from hunting to the aftermath when he wakes up. tw for brief mention of suicide since, y’know, djinn dream.

any port in a storm - mature/52k. post s8 finale. cas and dean have to pose as a couple going through a rough patch for a case and actually deal with their emotional baggage, cas struggles with being human and metatron is up to stuff.

all this and heaven too* - explicit/7k. in the author’s own words ‘...a love letter to every trans person who ever projected onto Dean Winchester.’ absolutely unzipped me emotionally and theologically, its just. so good. tw for very brief mentions of internalized transphobia/dysphoria.

Because it is* - mature/6k, finale fix it. killing chuck does not bring back anyone back and the winchesters spend a very long time dealing with what they’ve lost, cas and dean SOMEHOW still manage to have signifigant communication issues even after the confession. tw for suicidal thoughts/brief attempt.

Vena Amoris and Other Old-Fashioned Bullshit* - teen/4k, s6. when cas fell for dean it automatically soulbonded/angel married them, shenanigans ensue when dean finds out during the angel’s civil war. funny and actually written back when s6 was airing so cas is still (or at least pretending to be) kind of an OP asshole which is fun.

Rinse, Repeat - teen/3k, s8. angsty character study of cas as he’s reprogrammed and trained to kill dean. not really dean/cas since its just cas’ pov of canon events but its beautifully written and ends with him snapping out of it through the power of love (also now a canon event!).

Emergence - explicit/59k, canon divergent after s11. dean meets a hunter he only recognizes as their friend claire novak’s missing father, but soon realizes he might be the answer behind the mysterious void in his memories and feelings (aka everyone’s memories of cas are completely wiped away for three years).

Cuckoo And Nest - explicit/10k, early established relationship/character study, cas tries to figure out how he fits into dean’s life and space in the bunker.

Build a Home* - teen/20k, canon divergent s12. sam and eileen are cute and turn the bunker into men of letters/hunters hq and everyone but cas moves in, mutual miscommunication issues and pining ensues.

Down in the River - teen/5k, early s8, cas prays to dean in purgatory while sam and dean try to figure out a way to get him out.

Teaching Poetry to Fish* - mature/52k, ?? BC through the entire series/canon divergent s14 and 15. retelling of crucial scenes throughout the shows timeline from cas’ pov, feat. actual fish and poetry.

the minor fall, the major lift - gen/4k, post confession/finale fixit. dean goes into the empty to save cas and runs into several old friends (and enemies).

With the Kisses of His Mouth* - teen/3k, gen later seasons. dean and cas keep kissing by accident.

Remaining Grace - explicit/109k, alternate s6. au where cas asks dean for help with raphael and dean, of course, does. tw for temporary major character death/semi-graphic depictions of alcohol withdrawal.

The face of heaven.* - teen/10k, au, dean is a regular guy and cas is a fallen star (think ‘stardust’, kinda).

Stories Are Made of Mistakes*  - teen/5k. newly human cas has trouble getting used to a human body and humanity in general, but still figures out that he and dean are A Thing before dean does.

Hurry Up And Wait - mature/21k, canon divergent s12. a fairyland and quite possibly LOTR related case comes up and dean goes full fanboy, mary is introduced to the wonders of the peter jackson adaptions, many references and comparisons (including between cas and dean’s ‘friendship’ and arwen/aragon). also charle is still alive and has just been doing fairy stuff this whole time.

There Are Many Things - explicit/28k, s9. cas is extremely lonely/touch-starved and trying to figure out this whole human thing, as well as where he and dean stand after being kicked out of the bunker.

It's A Long Life to Always Be Longing - teen/40k, post s11 finale. amara helps dean by putting him in a magical coma so he can finally get some much needed rest and show him possible futures for him, sam and cas. meanwhile sam and cas go on a roadtrip (or several) to find componets for a spell to wake dean up. really good sam and cas friendship, they actually talk about their shared lucifer trauma and stuff.

Non-Photo Blue - gen/2k, s4/5/alternate s5. fifty moments from cas’ memories of dean.

Tall Grass - explicit/57k, canon divergent post series. cas becomes the ultimate plant dad. feat the wayward sisters gang, cathartic character growth, fun oc’s, domesticity, and lots of actual botanical info-dumping.

on vessels - no rating/gen/2k. established dean/cas, cas tells dean about how he used to imagine what it would be like to have him as his vessel.

search for tomorrow on every shore* - teen/11k, post-finale (extremely derogatory). some angels in jack’s new heaven act out and dean gets temporarily resurrected in 2003 and runs into his younger self.

Architecture of the Minotaur’s Heart - explicit/45k, very canon divergent post s1. dean’s new house seems to have a life and mind of its own, while in his dreams he sees glimpses of a world and apocalypse that never came to be and an angel that looks strangely like his mysterious neighbor, cas. loosely inspired by the book house of leaves (which i highly recommend for fans of weird horror).

The Distance Of The Setting Sun - explicit/17k, post s5. established dean/cas relationship, team free will finally takes advantage of cas’ abilities to go on vacation around the world.

diamond star halo - teen/5k, s11. dean lets cas use him as a temporary vessel while he recovers from rowena’s spell, sam is a long-suffering third-wheel.

Make Known** - teen/16k, s6/7. dean struggles to understand how cas could have become his enemy and whether he ever truly knew him in the first place.

blunt little instrument* - mature/1.4k, post finale. dean finally confronts his father in heaven, very cathartic.

my heart a compass*** - teen/10k, post confession. the empty forces cas to re-experience his most regretted moments while dean tries to snap him out of it and bring him home.

A Crash Course in Someone Else's History - teen/11k, s6. cas from the very start of s4 is brought forward in time by s6!cas to distract the brothers from his and crowley’s plans.

The Cuckoo Father - mature/8k, s7 au. the woman who found cas in the river post-leviathans does not marry him bc he was sent to her by god or whatever, but actually identifies him as jimmy novak and sends him back to claire and amelia.

The Dead Dean Clause* - teen/5k, post alt s5 ending. team free will celebrates surviving taking down lucifer by getting blitzed, cas lies to a cop and gets an impromptu driving lesson. title/description sound dark i know but it’s actually very funny and light.

Suck It, Judy Garland - mature/20k, s12 (after the ‘i love you...i love all of you’ episode). cas and sam have to pretend to be a couple for a case and dean is NOT happy about it.

By Daylight and In Dream - teen/16k, s5. pre-dean/cas, dean invites cas to use his dreams to hide from the other angels. tw for very brief mention of a memory/dream of alastair sexually assaulting dean.

The Five People You Meet in Heaven - mature/22k, post-canon. an actually happy (if sometimes bittersweet) heaven endgame written several years ago, though some details are rather eerily similar to the show’s ending.

heaven is a place on earth* - teen/2k. dean’s pov of some of the times cas left him behind throughout the show, and one alternate ending where he finally gets to stay.

I Cleanse The Mirror - teen/20k, alternate s6. dean’s body is stolen by an ancient elemental and his soul has to hitch a ride in cas’ vessel.

an exploration of gender; angelic*** - mature/4k. *oscar isaac voice* lets get into angel gender politics!! aka cas is trans.

Zenith - explicit/33k, s9. after 9x06 an angry witch curses cas with the ability to see supernatural beings and human souls.

La cucina. - gen/3k, alt s9. dean goes wild helping a newly-human cas find out what kinds of food he likes, or the early s9 domesticity we deserved!

Dean Winchester, Cocksucker at Rest***** - teen/7k, post-finale. john and mary finally come over for dinner and john reacts to dean/cas in a rather predictable fashion. SOOOOOOOOO good omg, its so funny and a little sad and very very cathartic. part of a series that has a few other really good short fics.

The Way You Didn't Go - teen/5k, s15. coda to 15.09, dean has nightmares about the moc!cas timeline.

On Drowning - teen/28k. dean saves cas after he nearly drowns, they both try and deal with the physical/mental fallout (aka the fic where thee iconic “you only touch me when you think I’m dead or dying” originates). tw for realistic depictions of drowning/triage/misc medical information.

The Thirty-Six Questions That Lead to Love* - mature/13k. claire has dean and cas pretend to be her gay dads for a case and they play the titular 36 question game, get mistaken for swingers, and birdwatch, among other things.

Assorted F/F stuff:

Deep Breaths* - mary/ellen, au where mary said no to azazel’s deal and let john stay dead, still becomes a milf.

Like Rebel Diamonds - krissy/claire, they become hunter gf’s on the hunt for cas to kick his ass for taking jimmy. not-so-stealth dean/cas as well.

To Ash and Bone - anna/ruby, same author as the previous fic (p much all of her stuff is good from what i recall). au where ruby is a witch and helps anna when she’s cursed.

Holy Clockwork Angels - jo/ruby, STEAMPUNK au with very cool worldbuiilding.

At Day's End - jo/anna (my fucking KINGDOM for more jo/anna content, the dean/cas parallels are allllll there), au where they are both at the camp in the endverse and gfs.

these posts - ok so not actually a fic but i’m now obsessed with this hannah/meg dynamic.

Tagelied - mary/ellen, the true story of how ellen got into hunting before angels interfered.

Hell's Bells** - meg/abaddon, alternate s8/9 where meg survives crowley’s attack with sam’s help and teams up with abaddon (who she has a sk year old crush on) to take back hell.

The Ecstasy of the Rose - anna/ruby, anna travels back in time to escape heaven and becomes a signifigant part of ruby’s old human life.

Angel Underground - anna/jo, kind of an urban fantasy au with a very intriguing premise (sadly its very short, i’d love to see more if this ‘verse).

Clover, Flame - billie/mary, billie was always the reaper that showed up to take mary after her death(s) over the years.

Drag Me To Heaven - anna/ruby, a variant on the ‘last night on earth’ thing with dean.

Come Home* - jo/anna, canon-divergent au where anna is the new waitress at the roadhouse and helps jo set up a (probably not really) haunted house for halloween.

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

If You Could Be Mine

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x Reader

Warnings: faux inc3st since we all know Loki is adopted, minors dni

Words: 4637

Summary: 

Part 2 of La Vie En Rose

If there was one person you never wanted to disappoint, it was your father; King of Asgard. For a man with only one eye, his glare was intimidating and drilled into you as you and your brother Loki stood before him in the throne room. You wanted to be like your brother and hold your head up, instead your face was turned downward with shame; hands folded in front of you as you try to put on polite airs, anything for your father to stop glaring at you. Frigga stood still at his side, regarding you and Loki with sad eyes.

“You know why I brought you two here. Whatever is discussed in this room does not leave this room. Thor is to never find out. No one is to find out about your indiscretion.” His thick voice booms, bouncing off the cavernous roof.

Head hanging low you nod. Of course you knew. You wished it hadn’t had happened the way it did. Your heart raced nauseously in your chest and you could feel the heavy thumps down to your stomach. Clenching your fingers you try and steady your breathing. Why had you let Loki convince you to have sex in such a public place? You knew the answer to that too. You would’ve done anything Loki had suggested, anything to keep him happy. And nothing made him more happier than the thought of getting caught. Well, you were caught alright. By your mother no less. As your brother was slamming his cock into you from behind. To his defense it wasn’t really a public area. It was the library that only the two of you ever stepped foot in. Nevertheless, you were caught. How many years of secret rendezvous? How many years of not getting caught? None of them mattered now. It was the end. Yet Loki didn’t seem phased by any of this. He had the guts to look Odin straight in the eye without even blinking. You didn’t know how he did it. Perhaps it was because Loki had a hunch that Odin had already known about your illicit relationship that he no longer cared to try and hide it. A part of you felt like he just liked pushing Odin’s buttons.

“The two of you bring shame on this family.” He continues, that single eye of his never leaving you. “Fornication between siblings is blasphemous. (y/n) how could you allow him to touch you like that? And Loki. . .” Something flashed on your brother’s face as the Allfather addressed him. Instead of continuing his thought, Odin merely shakes his head.

“Oh come now father. Don’t pretend to be so shocked.” Loki smiles. “You knew what (y/n) and I were doing. I think you’ve known all along about the love we have for eachother.”

Your mother pales but keeps her composure. Your heart broke looking at her. She had seen more than she needed to.

Odin’s face flushes at the accusation and you knew that if Loki hadn’t been his son that Odin would’ve struck him down into the ground for even suggesting such a thing. Instead his lips quiver angrily. But he didn’t deny any of it. “I had a feeling. . . I never knew it was to this extent though. The two of you force me to do something about this. I cannot have this continue. For starters I’ll have (y/n)’s room moved to the farthest part of the castle and guarded so to discourage any visits.” He rubs at his beard in thought. “But that still leaves the problem of during the day. And I know your affinity for magic, Loki. You’re not making this easy on me.”

“Just make things simple father and give her to me.” Loki says and grabs your hand. “Your ruler of the Nine Realms, the Allfather. If you let this be then no one will oppose it. If you bind us together by marriage do you really think anyone would have the nerve to question you?”

“If she were to marry any of her brothers then I would much prefer it to be Thor.”

Ouch. That comment was entirely unnecessary. Loki’s fingers squeeze around your’s. You knew that must have hurt him. He had always known that Odin’s favorite son was Thor. Thor was the warrior, the strong one and the first born. He would be the one to inherit the throne. But Thor was also impulsive and all his brains were in his muscles. Loki, while maybe not quite as physically strong as Thor, was cunning and smart and would make a better king than Thor; not that you based that on favoritism. You loved your brother Thor, but he was not made to be king. He lacked wit and common sense. He acted first and asked questions later. You couldn’t see into the future, but even you knew that you ultimately be his downfall.

“I will have you two heavily watched. For now I’m having (y/n) sentenced to house arrest in her room with guards present at all times until Thor’s coronation. I will think of a more permanent solution to this problem.”

“So. . . If I don’t want to end things with Loki, does that mean you’ll never let me out of my room?” You press, not quite wanting to give him up. You and Loki had been swapping secret kisses and glances for years. You didn’t want to accept your father’s terms. “Will you let me wither away and die in my room if I say that I won’t stop letting Loki love me?”

“(y/n).” He growls in warning. You had always been a good girl. Or at least that’s what he had thought up until now.

“I’m a grown woman. You don’t get to decide who I’ll be with!”

“You’re a grown woman, that you are, but you forget that you’re also my daughter. Princess of Asgard. You belong to the realm. I will marry you off to whomever I deem fit. And that will not be Loki.”

“Why? And don’t say because he’s my brother. You just said that you would prefer me with Thor!” You pull your hand out of Loki’s which had been cutting off your hand’s circulation

“ENOUGH!!” Odin barked and to your shame you flinch slightly.

Your mother places a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Sweetie, don’t provoke him any further.”

Tears well up in your eyes. “It’s not fair though. I love him! I don’t care if he’s my brother!”

“(y/n)” Frigga whispers and turns you around. You see Loki finally looking down at the ground, defeated. Behind him several guards had just entered. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be. We’ll talk about this after the ceremony.”

You truly didn’t want to cause your mother any grief.Limply you let the guards lead you out and to your new quarters.

*

He feels warmth trickle between his fingers the more he presses his nails into his palm. His breathing is harsh and shallow as he continues to stare down at the ground. He always knew that Odin preferred Thor. But what harm would it bring for him to love (y/n)? She wasn’t betrothed to anyone and Loki knew Odin had no plans on marrying her off yet. In fact Loki had thought that Odin would eventually let (y/n) choose her husband because Odin adored his precious daughter so much. Loki couldn’t help but feel like Odin was doing all of this just out of spite.

“I blame myself for letting this continue for as long as it had. I didn’t want to believe it was true. Didn’t want to think that (y/n) would degrade herself in allowing her own brother to have sex with her.” He looks sad himself as he stands from his great throne and marches down the steps. Frigga is still in front of Loki, wringing her hands. “If it’s a woman you want then there’s plenty around you. Any one of the maids I’m sure would not protest if you invited them to your bed.” When he saw that that wasn’t making Loki budge, Odin lowered his voice. “You can’t have her, Loki. Why must you insist on wanting things you can never have?”

Hate engulfs Loki as he glares up at his father. Odin holds the glare before passing by him and leaving.

“Loki. . .”

Loki pushes her hands away from him. “Leave me.”

“Loki please. . .”

He glares at her too. She couldn’t have just kept quiet about what she saw. Couldn’t have just discussed it with them. She just had to tell Odin. And now because of her, Loki now had to convince himself to make a promise that he truly didn’t want to make. He had to give up (y/n) in order to use his magic again and (y/n) had to give up him so that she’d be able to see the light of day. Loki doubted that Odin would truly keep her locked up like a prisoner for the rest of her life if she continued to refuse. Odin loved his daughter too much to do that to her.

Frigga’s footsteps begin to recede until he hears the heavy doors of the throne room close shut. He crumples to the ground and slams his fist onto the floor. He tried again to pull off the cuff, even went so far as using his teeth to try and tear it off. Nothing worked, the leather cuff remained and his magic was gone.

Loki scowled at the throne. If he were king he would be able to claim (y/n) as his queen. He’d be able to marry her and kiss her in front of everyone and no one would be able to stop him. He’d have them executed if anyone objected.

He’d never be king though.

Loki took a deep breath.

He’d have to think of another way to be with (y/n). He refused to give up.

Smiling to himself, Loki gets up and dusts himself off.

*

You release a shuddering breath as you look yourself over in your mirror. No matter how hard they worked at trying to make you look beautiful for Thor’s big day, they couldn’t get rid of the puffiness of your eyes and the red that tinted them. Ever since the guards had locked you in your room you had cried until your hand maids came in to help you get ready. You despised the girl you saw in the mirror. Despised her glittering jewels and the resentment in her (e/c) eyes that stared back at you with such venom that made your stomach boil. Trembling fingers pick up your diadem that sat perfectly on it’s velvet cushion for this particular occasion. It shined brightly back at you with it’s rose gold shimmer. Your fingers run along the intricate details that pattern your fragile looking diadem. When you were younger you had wanted a helmet like your father and brothers. You wanted to fit in with them. Now you wished beyond anything that you weren’t a daughter of Odin. Then again how would you have come to meet Loki if you had not been his daughter? The two of you wouldn’t have fallen in love.

“Your father had the best craftsmen in all the Nine Realms make you that diadem.” Frigga stands behind you, moving to lift the diadem in her hands. She gazes at it with warmth. “He claimed nothing but the best for his princess.” She notices the resentment in your (e/c) eyes as you glare at the diadem in her hands. “He loves you (y/n) and only ever wants the best for you. You know why you can’t be with Loki. . .”

Pressing your lips together you allow her to place it upon your head. “I know. Believe me, I know. . . It can’t be helped though, the way I feel for him. Mother, I’m sorry for the way you found us. . . It must’ve been horrendous for you.”

Frigga averts her gaze, hands fretting in front of her bodice. “It was quite. . . unfortunate. . . Of course I’ve had my suspicions but I never wanted them to be true. . . I kept telling myself that I was overthinking things. That you two were merely very close.” She looked torn, making your heart reach out to her. You loved your mother dearly. You would’ve never done anything to hurt her. Yet there you were. It must not have been easy finding out your children were in love with one another. “(y/n), there’s something I want to tell you.”

The doors to your chambers creaked open, Frigga stands straighter and grabs your arm.

“Ah. I’ll tell you after the coronation.”

At least you would see Loki there. They had change the location of your chambers to a part of the castle that was farther away from Loki’s suites. A few maids scurried out of your path as they continued to trickle in with your belongings from your old room. Even though you were still in the same palace as him, you felt further away from Loki than ever.

His eyes noticeably brightened when he spotted you and Frigga walking up the steps to the platform where your father sat at his throne. You had only just been there a few hours ago but the entire atmosphere had completely changed. The entire room glistened with gold as soldiers lined the room, awaiting their prince. Thor’s own friends were standing at the steps opposite where you, your mother, and brother were standing. Normally you would’ve been situated between Loki and Frigga, but Frigga had you stand on the other side of her so that she was between you and Loki. It also made you closer to the Allfather. As the room filled, the ceremony began with Thor arriving at the other end of the room in his gleaming armor and hammer in hand. A cocky grin on his handsome face he saunters down the aisle of cheering soldiers and citizens alike. Once he got to the steps he kneeled down and set his hammer in front of him. Pretty words of allegiance were uttered as were those of promises to do good by the realm. You stood there patiently through the entire exchange, your gaze trying to stay concentrated on Thor but they yearned to stray. To look at Loki in his equally magnificent armor and helmet. To meet those green eyes of his that always made you shiver by the sheer magnitude they held in them. Your heart raced just thinking about it. Yet it was those very same feelings that got you caught in the first place. The two of you just couldn’t resist fooling around with the looks the each of you were shooting the other as you read silently in the library. It started off innocent with you wanting to read a book that Loki had suggested about basic magic. Something easy enough for you to learn and understand. Nothing could truly be innocent between you and Loki though. He took you with such ferocity, slamming you into the table as he flipped up your dress and parted your legs so he could easily plunge himself into you. You remember the sound of paper ripping as you accidentally, in your throes of passion, dug your nails into the book you had been reading and ripped a page.

You noticed that there was a slight gap of silence in your father finishing the ceremony. You look from Thor to your father, his single eye staring widely at something you didn’t know.

“Frost giants. . .”

The crowd bristled and you felt someone grab your arm. You jolt until you realize it’s your mother, fear draining her face. Odin taps his staff onto the ground yet the damage has been done. Your brother is up and the guards are already rushing to the exit to investigate.

“Mother, what’s happening? Are there really frost giants here in Asgard?”

She looks at you with a bit of uncertainty. She was scared. That much was clear. She touches your face and forces a smile. “Nothing that can’t be handled. Lets get you back to your room.”

“But-”

“The Princess of Asgard must be kept safe, whatever means necessary.” You heard Loki say. Frigga twitches slightly before pulling you away. “Take our sweet princess back to her room mother. Keep her safe.”There was a genuine tone of concern in his voice as well as one that lilted playfully. As your mother stole you away, dozens of guards followed closely to make sure nothing happened to either of you while going back to your room.

There hadn’t been much time for your father to think of a permanent way to keep you and Loki apart for no sooner had the intrusion of the Frost Giants arose did the real trouble start. Your brother Thor had decided to take it upon himself to start another war with the frost giants. You couldn’t simply stand by and allow him to as the others were. Even Loki didn’t offer much of a protest to the matter.

You had been hiding behind a pillar, listening in to the conversation until you couldn’t take it anymore. You revealed yourself much to the shock of the Warriors Three and Sif. Of course Loki didn’t look surprised at all. You wouldn’t put it past him if he had known the entire time that you were eavesdropping. You yelled at your foolish brother and tried to stop him. Thor grabbed you by the shoulders and looked deeply into your eyes, vowing to keep you safe at all cost. The Frost Giants threatened the peace of Asgard, they threatened your safety above all. It didn’t appear that he had listened to a word you had said. You warned him that you would tell Odin but that didn’t seem to deter Thor either. Kissing your forehead he stalked out with his four friends, leaving Loki to linger a bit. It had been the first time since the scolding you had received in the Throne Room that the two of you had been remotely alone together. The palace guards did not leave your side for a single second. You were only free now due to ditching them by claiming you had to use the privy.

“(y/n).” He had whispered in a voice that held so much adoration for you.

“Don’t go. . . You know this isn’t right. You guys could get seriously hurt if not killed.”

Loki laughed. “I plan to come back to you. Be a good girl.”

“Loki-”

In a blink of an eye he appeared right in front of you and pressed his lips aggressively against your’s. He stole all your breath when he pulled away and went to follow after Thor.

True to your word you had rushed to inform the Allfather about what Thor had planned to do. Already they had made across the Bifrost Bridge and at Heimdall’s observatory. By the time your father managed to send guards there it was too late. Your brothers and their small entourage had already traveled to Jotunheim. The Allfather took it upon himself to go and stop his sons. Only. . . when he returned to the palace your brother Thor was missing.

Odin had banished Thor, his golden son, to Midgard and stripped him of his power. Both of your parents grieved as did you but you had warned Thor that there would be repercussions if he went through with his asinine plan. Still, you couldn’t believe it. You had never seen your father so distraught before. He didn’t even pay attention to you and Loki anymore. Loki took the opportunity to sneak into your room as the amount of guards placed had dwindled due to more urgent areas for them to guard. Even Loki’s kisses and caresses couldn’t stop you from worrying about the other members of your family. Although you didn’t love Thor the way you loved Loki, you loved him as your brother nonetheless. He always kept you safe and protected you since the day you were born. He was always there to pick you up when you fell or make you laugh when it seemed like you would never smile again. He was so incredibly warm like the sun. Each day that Thor was gone, your father seemed to grow thinner and look more tired than the day before. It must not have been easy doing that to his son. The stress of it all was too much for him. . .

“Odinsleep?”

“Yes. He’ll be okay.” Frigga reassures you as she holds you in her arms. “By the gods he’ll be okay. He’s just very weak right now.”

You stared at your comatose father. The sight unnerved you. This was not the Odin you had grown up with. Your father had always been a physically strong man. “When will he wake?”

Your mom sighs. “It is uncertain when he will wake from this state.”

Still not understanding how this could happen you turn away from the sight. You spot Loki in the doorway and choose to leave your mother.

His eyes are hard as he looks at Odin. When you get close enough he grabs you and kisses you roughly as you squirm, knowing your mother is probably watching. Placing your hands on his chest you push away and stare incredulously at him. “What are you doing?!” Your eyes dart over to your mother who is indeed staring sadly at you.

“We don’t have to hide anymore (y/n).”

“Not here Loki. . .” Frigga began.

“Don’t you want her to know mother?” Countering back he holds you to his chest. “Now why would you and Odin make us feel bad about something that isn’t wrong at all?”

Frowning you try and pull away from him but his grip is suffocating around you. Frigga looks utterly distraught and you want to tell Loki to stop it, that she’s been through enough already.

“Tell her how I’m not her brother!”

Wide eyed you stare up at him.

Seeing your expression he smirks somewhat crazily. “That’s right (y/n). I am not a true son of Odin. It was no wonder he always preferred Thor.”

Frigga takes a step toward the both of you. “It wasn’t like that-”

“No, you’re right. How foolish of me. He didn’t like me because of what I am! That’s why he didn’t want me anywhere near his precious princess! Because I’m the very monster that he would warn her about when we were children! Imagine what would have happened if my seed were to grow in her. It would shame him immensely to know that his only daughter was carrying the child of a Frost Giant!!” He shook as he yelled, rage coming out in a burst that you could feel it against your own body.

“Mother. . . Is. . . Is that all true?”

“I wanted to tell you (y/n). . .” Tears filled her eyes making the blue in them more watery. “I tried to. I wanted to tell you when I saw how distraught you were and how much you truly loved Loki. I wanted him to be honest with you from the very beginning. Honest to the both of you when he had his suspicions about your intimate relationship. We didn’t know what the two of you would become though. We never though. . . But he didn’t want you to feel different Loki. You are our son.”

So much was happening so suddenly but you knew that first you had to comfort both your mother and Loki in such times. His chest still heaved as he continued to breathe harshly. Gently you shift in his arms to where you could loosen one so that you could hold his hand and lead him closer to Odin’s bedside and to your mother. Loki followed obediently, concentrating on your hand in his. He looked uncertainly at Frigga before allowing her to touch his arm. He gazes at the unconscious Odin as you had a few moments before.

“You can talk to him.” Frigga whispers. “He can still hear you.”

“Do you think I’m a monster?”

You and Frigga are uncertain to whom he is asking until he looks at you.

“After what you’ve found out. Do you still love me?”

“Is that even a question you should ask? Of course I still love you you fool.” Summoning up a gentle smile you gaze up at him. If finding out Loki was really a Frost Giant couldn’t stop you from loving him, then nothing could. A smile twitches on the corner of his lips.

The doors open and a guard walks in with a scepter in his hands. All of the guards behind him go down on one knee as does the one with the scepter once he makes it to Loki. More than confused Loki shoots a look at Frigga who explains that because Thor had been banished, Loki is natural the next in line for the throne. Asgard was his to rule until Odin awoke from Odinsleep.

He was finally king.

His first order of business was making you his queen.

Of course this lead to many murmurs in Asgard, many that you couldn’t help but hear. Even the Warriors Three and Sif would be caught shooting you untrustworthy looks. They had become incredibly mistrustful of your newly deemed husband but would not voice anything to you, fearing you might alert Loki. You felt isolated from what used to be your world as Loki kept you around him constantly as if to show off to the Nine Realms that you were his despite many in Asgard still believing you to be blood siblings. Frigga said nothing about this. She kept constant vigil over Odin as he continued to slumber. You worried for her but knew that it was her only sense of comfort.

You had run in search of Loki when you saw that the Frost Giants were invading Asgard. The entire time you were thinking to yourself where Heimdall was and where was your husband to stop them? You pressed yourself against walls in your pursuit to allow the soldiers to run by to aid in the fight against the Frost Giants. You searched the spots in which he frequented but he wasn’t there. You ran to your father’s chambers, the only place you could think of. If the Frost Giants were to know about the vulnerable state your father was in surely they would use the advantage and try to kill him. The doors were already wide open by the time you arrived and there was a large hole in one of the walls.

“Mother!”

Frigga ran to you and threw her arms around you. “(y/n)!”

“Are you hurt?! Is father-”

“He is alright. Loki saved him from Laufey.”

That made you smile. But the distraught look in your mother’s eyes soured it. “What’s wrong.”

“Thor is back. He said Loki sent the Destroyer after him in midgard to kill him.”

“Wh-What?”

She pointed to the hole in the wall and told you of what had transpired. You knew nothing good would come of this.

Despite being happy about seeing thor you had nothing but tears to offer him when he informed you of what had happened to Loki, your husband, the king of your heart.

“(y/n). . . I’m sorry. . .” He whispers and tires to hold you but you didn’t want to be touched. Not now. Not by him. You gained your brother back but lost the other. Loki may have not truly been your brother but that didn’t erase the years you spent playing with him. The years you loved him and how that love evolved into something much more.

[moonlight-escapade]

The King & I (Pt. 11)

Hello all! I had minor surgery last week so that’s why this chapter is coming to you a bit late. It’s a bit longer than usual though! I hope you enjoy it ❤️ 

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HISTORICAL AU (but not necessarily historically accurate bc this is a fanfic not a research project lol): King Henry V & “Street Urchin” reader who takes in and cares for abandoned/orphaned children.

TW: Descriptions of physical intimacy (but nothing raunchy)

CHAPTER 11: WAIT FOR ME

“My darling! Look what I’ve saved for dessert,” mummy sang as she stepped out in her most beautiful cream colored robe. I jumped on the warm creaky bed happily, knowing exactly what was in store for me, as I’d seen Monsieur Gerard leave when I was staring out the attic window. 

“Blackberry tart!” I squealed happily, watching as she prepared the dessert on one of the nice china plates she reserved only for customers… and for special occasions— or blackberry tarts, since they were so rare to see these days. 

As she sat by her vanity, a knock sounded on the door and Madame B’s head poked in. “I’ve been told to leave this here for you.” A small envelope was then left on a stand by the doorway before she left again.

Mummy stared back at the envelope, but waved me over to sit with her. Together we shared the deliciously rich and sweet tart the way we’d always done, but there was a sadness on mummy’s face this time. 

She stood herself up and walked to open the small envelope. I watched silent tears stream down her cheeks as she began to read it and then quickly ran over to her, hugging her tightly. 

“What’s wrong mumma?” I asked her, scared that something sad had happened. 

“I fear I’ve let someone break my heart.”

I’d learned through my mother where this road ends. And no matter how much I wanted to say yes to him, I felt in some part of my soul that there was respect for myself yet.

“Does it not mean anything… the time we’ve spent together?” Hal asks, his voice heavy. I shake my head.

“Hal, time has no place at the table of the King,” I tell him. 

He is quiet then, and I wonder if he’ll try to argue against my words. But I feel there is an unspoken acceptance towards them. 

“When will you leave?” I turn to ask him, feeling the cool breeze of the lake whip against my neck. 

“We’re to gather our army by the end of the week…” he says. I make a mental note of it… seven days. 

A part of me wants to cry at the unfairness, another wants to laugh, because this had been ridiculous and blasphemous from the start. 

“I wish I’d known you longer,” I tell him, feeling the weight of my sadness, my love… dripping from the words as they escape my heart’s mind. 

I feel him come nearer to me, his hands reaching out towards my own. I let him take them, feeling the cool roughness of his skin against mine. I wondered if he noticed how rough my own were.

“You’ve never mentioned the feel of my hands,” I say then, feeling free to let the wind and clouds carry my admissions away, seeing as there was no need to hide them now. His thumbs graze over my fingers, then turn my palms up towards the sky. His long index finger traces the lines on my palms, the scars in between. 

“Perhaps it’s because they always felt like my own,” he says. I look at him, searching his eyes for more. “I feel we’re made of the same cloth,” he says, interlacing his fingers between mine and pulling me close to his chest. I let my head rest against him, and we stay there for a moment. The steady rise and fall of his chest underneath my ear is comforting against the loud, hurried beating of his heart.

“May I ask you something?” Hal says then.  He takes a step back, releasing my hands. 

“Will you trust me?” He asks. I nod, noting the way his hair whips around in the cool wind. It’s comforting to see him like this.. somewhat disheveled. Not a King, and not quite Hal as before… now it’s but a man who stands before me. 

He stares at me for a long moment before he begins fiddling with his hands. I watch him remove a heavy silver ring from his smallest finger. I try not to gasp as I watch him kneel before me. His hand outstretched towards me with the ring lying in his palm. 

“I’m not selfish enough to ask you to marry me, though I wish I were,” he says. “I’d rather ask you to wait for me. Wait till I find a way to make you my wife.” 

I stare at him in shock. “Are you proposing to propose?” I ask him. A smile lifts on the corners of his mouth. 

“I suppose I am,” he says. 

Every part of me wanted to wrap myself around him, squeal with joy and kiss him… but that part of me that knew better held her back. 

“And how do you expect to fulfill such a promise?” I ask him. His eyes soften as he stares up at me. 

“Love conquers all, does it not?” his smooth voice floats through me and into my heart. 

“If that were so… many things would not be as they are,” I say. The grass beneath him rustles as he rises back to his feet. He takes a step towards me and places the ring in my hand. 

“You are the reason I want to make England better… you are England to me,” he says. My throat tightens and I stare up at him, feeling tears prick my eyes.

His hand wrapped around my fingers, securing the ring in my palm. I peered into his eyes once more, trying to prove this wasn’t a dream… yet every time we came this close, I was certain it was. 

“I will wait for you,” I say.

———————-

HALS POV

She’d agreed. That’s the best I could hope for right now. But I would have to do more to make this work… for England to prevail, there would have to be a union with France, it was inevitable. And Catherine, though a perfect solution to this problem… could not replace the role (Y/N) had within my heart and mind. No one could replicate the unruly passion (Y/N) lit within me. She was like a bramble bush full of the sweetest berries. Like the sun reflecting diamonds against the rough sea. She was beauty and fire, and I would gladly burn to keep her by my side. 

“What the hell are you going on about?” Connelly asks from behind me as I march down the hall. I’d told him my intention to marry (Y/N), and to solve our war with France by other means. 

“There is no other way!” he booms, his footsteps growing heavier and faster till he has rounded before me, stopping me in my tracks. 

“I disagree,” I state simply, moving to continue on my path, but his grip is quickly on my arm, stopping me. “Hal, do not put your cock before your country.”

“Isn’t that precisely what I’m expected to do anyway?” I say to him, “Marry Catherine, produce an heir with French blood… hell, that is my duty is it not?” 

“Your duty is to do what is best for England!” He spits. 

“Was it not King Athelstan who was born from love? When King Edward the Elder was forced to marry a woman that was to bring territory, wealth and power—“

“You compare yourself to the great King Edward?” Connelly laughs. 

“I compare myself to the will of God in those before me. The will of God is for me to rule this church, as it was for King Edward to fall in love with Ecgwynn, to produce the first true heir to the throne of England. She who was but a consort to him, she who was but a commoner in the eyes of the court- the Witan—“

“But your (Y/N) is no commoner, she is the daughter of a whore.” Connelly cuts. 

Anger runs wild through me and I slap him.

“Don’t you ever speak of her that way again!” I threaten him, not caring who hears me now.

“You spoiled shit,” Connelly spits at my feet. I grab his collar, pulling him close to me.

“Out of the respect I have for you, in all the years you’ve cared for me— the relationship you had with my father… I will not punish you for your words today,” I tell him before walking away.

If I had to make enemies for her, I would. If I had to kill for her, I would. If I had to lie…

I would.

I march into the state room, shooing away the guards and servants lingering in the corners. I needed time to think. 

“It’s a dangerous game you’re playing boy,” Dougal had said to me one night at the bar. I’d come to watch (Y/N) as an observer, hiding myself behind cloaks and a dirtied face. I had a horrible curiosity to know how her movements, her voice… everything might be different when she wasn’t with me, the King. I couldn’t help it… she captivated me. 

“What game?” I asked him, taking a sip of the ale he’d placed before me. I only heard him chuckle and turned to gauge him. He simply raised a brow at me and turned his attention back to the floor.

Of course I knew what he meant. “It is a dangerous game. But everything is now.”

“Sir, are we to have a meeting?” General Wilmington’s familiar gravely voice called from behind me. I turned to him, marching down the steps of the throne altar to ask him plainly. 

“Can we win?”

In his eyes a gust of hope and fear flickers. “It is not the first time England has been outnumbered,” he says. I nod, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“Then we shall win back our territory- England’s territory, by the sweat and blood of our men.” 

———————————————

“I’m not selfish enough to ask you to marry me, though I wish I were,” his voice rings in my mind as I twist the metal ring in between my fingers. Damn him, for leaving me with such promises to repeat to myself over and over again in my mind. It’d only been two days since I’d seen him, yet the feeling of Hal… the way he thought of me… it was fresh as the moment he spoke the words. 

I hated myself for agreeing… I hated myself for believing in this little game. In the end I’m really the only one to blame. I let Hal do something to me… change something in me. I let him get into a place in my mind that had been left untouched, unnoticed even to myself. Still… I knew what my mother had gone through, I’d seen it and felt it by her side.  

How desperately I wish I could speak to my mother now. 

“(Y/N)?” Carter calls me from my thoughts. I close my fingers around the ring quickly, tucking it into the pocket of my skirt. 

“Yes? Sorry, what is it?” I ask him, standing to take on whatever task was needed. He puts his hand up, signaling me to stay. His face is fallen, cold… it instantly strikes fear through to my heart. “Carter, what’s wrong?” 

He pulls a small paper out from his back pocket, extending his arm slowly towards me. “It… we… we’re called to arms,” he says. My body reacts before my mind can and I quickly grab the paper in my hands.

“All males aged 13 and up, able to serve…” I read off the sheet. I feel my breath begin to deepen. I fold the page, not wanting to look at the deep black ink permanently etched onto the face of this sheet that bore the royal seal.

“I.. I will find a way to get you out of this—“ 

“No. No, (Y/N), this is my duty,” Carter states, his voice steady and firm. I search his expression, half hoping to catch just a flicker of fear to latch on to. But there was none. There was shock… but fear was not on young Carter’s face. It never had been. 

“I can do this, for us… for… for you,” he says, his eyes on the ground. I walk towards him and envelop him into a tight hug. 

“You won’t do this for me, I forbid that,” I tell him. “But—“

I shush him, pressing him tighter against me. 

“(Y/N)? Are you alright?” Carter asks. And I realize I am crying, my breath shaky as I hold him close to me, as though he were the only thing keeping my heart from falling onto the floor. I couldn’t tell how I had ended up in this position.

“Don’t fight for me… I am not worth that,” I tell him, “fight for yourself, for our family here…” I tell him. His hands pull my shoulders back and I can’t look anywhere but at him. 

“(Y/N)… none of us are worth a soul without you. You saved all of us,” he says. I make to protest but he stops me, shaking his head. 

“You are our greatest protector… you… you are the England I will fight for.” 

I can barely hold my sobs back. I take him into my arms again, and hold him tightly. Carter lets me stand there for a long time. Perhaps we both needed time to hold someone we loved. Someone who felt like family. For him to know that there was a home for him to return to… and for me to know there was someone to return to make this a home. Because after everything, this little shack made of splintered wood was our home, we had made it so.

“We are to report the day after tomorrow,” he mumbles against my shoulder. I nod, taking a breath, hoping something in the air will fill me with some sort of strength or wisdom. But all there is, is a love for this boy, this young boy who came to me one day, face covered in dirt, a gash on his forehead from a cook who had found him sneaking strips of ham from a windowsill and thrown a pan at him. I knew that boy would win whatever battle he was brought up against. 

“(Y/N), Hal is at the door!” Evelyn yelps, running through the dining room before opening the front door and bolting down the alley to greet him. My chest tightens at the sound of his voice greeting Evelyn’s own happy “hello’s,” and I watch the sunlight against the floorboards, waiting to see his shadow close in to the front door. 

I stand as I hear his boots against the wood, shoving the ring back into my pocket. I can’t remember the normal rhythm of breathing and have to tell myself how “breathe in, breath out..” 

Everything seems so close and real all at once. Hal enters the room, a brown cloak over his shoulders, covering the rich red leather of his coat underneath. Evelyn dangles behind him, happily holding his hand in her own, and Carter approaches him with an outstretched hand to shake.

“How are you, Lord Hal?” Carter asks, tucking the paper into his coat pocket. I know Hal notices this, and his eyes glance towards me before he answers. “I am well Young Carter, you’ve seen the order?” 

Carter nods and runs a hand against his neck, “I’ve just told (Y/N) about it as well… I suppose you’ve come to bid farewell,” he says. I stare at Hal, hoping he’s not, knowing he is. Hal nods and places a hand on Carter’s shoulder.

“Would you two mind giving us a moment?” Hal asks Evelyn. Carter takes Evelyn’s other hand and challenges her to find four leaf clovers in the alley courtyard with him, as a token of good luck for him to bring along. 

As they run off, the soft noise of wind and distant pedestrian movement sounds against the hollow walls of the house. Hal’s footsteps are sharp as he comes near me. But the silence falls heavy between us. My chest is tight and my head feels too light… and the sensation of Hal’s shadow over me against the bright afternoon sun is completely consuming. 

“Would you like to join me for a ride?” I hear him ask. I stare up at him, and he looks like a King. The sun outlines the soft honey curls around his head… and all I want to do is follow him to wherever that light leads us. I nod, accepting his outstretched hand… the roughness of his fingers is the most comfortable sensation I can imagine.

—————————

Hal sits beside me on the familiar twisted tree root. I want to lean into him and stay there forever.

“Will you come back?” I ask him. His arm wraps around my waist. 

“Of course I will,” he says into my hair, placing a kiss onto my head. 

“I mean… to me,” I mumble, half afraid to say it.

Hal pulls back, turning towards me. He stares down at me with his impossibly blue eyes, his brows raising in that way that simply pierces through me. 

“Darling, I promise, with all my heart, I will come back to you,” his voice is low and soft, and his fingers stroke the side of my face gently, making goosebumps rise on my skin. Tears well in my eyes and I lean forward, burying my face in his chest. His hands wrap around me, holding me close and tight.

“What do I do until then?” I ask him between shallow breaths, trying to stop myself from crying yet only managing to make my entire body shake with repressed sobs. 

“Just try not to get into trouble,” he says, holding me close. I try to memorize the way the leather on his chest feels warm against my cheek. How the sun warms my back and the cool breeze sends a chill down my neck. How his hands hold my waist… how his chin rests atop my head. 

“Hal…” I push away from him. He looks down at me, his eyes careful and sweet. I can’t help myself and press my lips against his. Before he can move, I stand up, moving to stand in between his legs. I place my hands on either side of his face and kiss him again and again. His hands wrap around my waist, then slide up my back.. and I can’t ignore the tingling feeling inside my stomach that wants for more. But before I can make another move, Hal stands, parting our lips for a moment. Our breaths are ragged as he reaches down, grabbing my thigh and raising it up to his waist. I wrap my arms and other leg around him instinctively and let him turn us so that I am sitting on the tree now. He kisses my neck, my jaw… his hands run against my shoulders, and then my collar bone. 

“Hal…” I manage to speak against heavy breaths. He stops, pulling away to look at me, but I reach out for him to come closer. He stands, staring above me, holding me in his arms, my legs parted on either side of his waist. 

“If I do this… you’re mine,” he says. I don’t know why the words stir the feelings they do inside me. His face, so masculine and handsome… his eyes, so sharp and full of desire… they all combine to drive me absolutely mad. I nod, reaching for him, pulling him by the taught leather of his coat. And then he is all over me. 

His hands reach down, pulling my skirts over my knees, and he opens his pants just enough. I can’t bare to look at it, so I keep my eyes on him. I don’t know what to expect… yet I know everything I should expect. I wasn’t in the room when my mother performed… but a few of the other girls would enact their services on any surface available. It was hard not to see it happen. I felt Hal against me and gasped, feeling my stomach tighten and my eyes squeeze shut. I gripped his shoulders and pressed myself closer to him.

“It’s alright (Y/N), breathe,” his low eloquent voice spoke above me. I look back up at him, nodding, keeping my hands tight around his shoulders. He stares down at me, then leans in to press a kiss to my lips. The feel of his warm lips on mine against the cool breeze around us sends a flutter down my chest, and suddenly I feel him inside me. I gasp, squeaking, half in shock, half in pain, but I take breaths, feeling his lips kissing my jaw and neck… I try to focus on that feeling. His hands come down to my thighs, massaging them gently, relaxing me… and then an incredible sensation takes over me. As he moves in and out, I feel like screaming, but Hal’s kisses stop me. It’s the most delicious sensation I can imagine. 

He holds onto me, and I onto him. The breeze blows against us and the sun shines down warmly against my face and hands. I can smell the wine and stone on Hal… the sweat and honey… and as his hands come up to my shoulders, lowering my sleeves so as to reveal a new surface for him to kiss… I can think of nothing but how much I love him. Tears leave my eyes, and I take his lips in mine. Moving with his rhythm… feeling his hands around me and my own as they linger and unbutton the top of his coat, revealing his collar bone to me so that I may place as many kisses as I can onto him… hoping I can somehow brand him with my love… for him to carry it with him to battle. I suck gently on his skin and pull away, seeing the small red circle left on his skin. I smile and wrap myself around him, letting him take us into total ecstasy.

[cordeliaflyte]

I love English literature, but there's this deep and intimate connection I have to Polish literature that I cannot explain. To quote Julian Tuwim, "the birch and the willow are closer to me than the palm and the cypress, and Mickiewicz and Chopin dearer to me than Shakespeare and Beethoven. Dearer for reasons which, again, I cannot justify". And like the very fact that translating this felt almost blasphemous.

And I genuinely love my subject, but I struggle to think of essay topics for the English language books we read, and I could literally write a whole dissertation about "Akademia Pana Kleksa". It was funny and terrifying and nostalgic but it's the saddest book I've ever read. If I had just a bit more awareness at 7 or 8 it would have made me cry. It would probably make me cry now if I read it. When you're a child, time doesn't exist. So whether a book comes from 2003 and in 1946 makes no difference to you. But obviously a book written in 1946 by a Jewish author about a world that dies rapidly before our eyes would hit different now than it did when I was 7.

Its ending is so deeply and profoundly sad. It's this terrifying apocalypse, but you're not even scared because there is so much sadness there that there isn't place for fear but even the cheery chapters before the world literally crumbles and disintegrates are so impactful...

Like my favourite chapter was always the one where the main character ends up in dog heaven, and he meets his dog because not only is the idea of a heaven for dogs, especially the way it was described in the novel so very fun, and I'm not joking when I say the way it described one of the characters drinking a glass of milk changed my life and I think about it every time I drink milk but it's also genuinely heartbreaking because like this is also a very Christian influenced book and like our main character is a good little boy who will go to heaven which is supposed to be this eternal bliss, and he should be at peace knowing that his dog, too, is experiencing eternal bliss, but there is no hope for them being reunited.

This sounds so silly, but what's the point of eternal happiness without your childhood dog. You know that post that's like: "your childhood dog is alive your dead best friend wants to get coffee you have been good you can sleep what do you do." And you know how the image of hell that tries to be more sympathetic than the culturally ingrained fire and brimstone is just eternal separation from God. Of course, that must be terrible if you're religious, but if you're not that's just your life. But love, as we all know, is the only religion, so how can heaven be heaven if it implies an eternal separation from your loved ones. Even if said loved ones are just your dog. God this made me so profoundly sad at 8, it still does.

Like on every level this was a book about grief, about an individual's grief, about a generation's grief, about a nation's grief. And I remember that it made some cogs shift in my little, unformed brain. Hell and heaven are not scary. They're just unimaginably sad. This sadness that drags along and follows you forever and sadness is ALWAYS loneliness. They're the same thing. This is another reason I feel a separation from the English language because when I say loneliness (which is of course a large component too) I mean "tęsknota" and there are no words in the English language to express that.

I am not trying to assign an esoteric superiority to Polish. Similar words exist in German and other languages, and you can convey the idea in English, but it will always be off by just an inch. It's like missing something, or someone, but it doesn't have to have a direction. And sadness = tęsknota = grief. There is always something unreachable about grief.

Even if Orpheus reached back, he would not be able to find Eurydice's hand and hold it, even just for a moment, before she was taken from him. By reaching to touch her, he would create a split universe where she was never actually walking behind him. Leonard Cohen's famous letter to Marianne says: "know that I am close behind you, and if you stretch out your hand, I think you can reach mine." A desire to reach out and touch the dead or dying is a human one and has been since Ancient times.

(Na takiej stypie nieźle by się piło, gdyby nie pogrom, co zaledwie wczoraj. I pod nogami grunt jak ciało miękki, trawy dotykasz, jakbyś dotknął ręki, która, choć martwa, wciąż do pieszczot skora = it would be nice to have drink at a wake like this, had it not been for the pogrom just yesterday. And under your feet, the ground like a soft body. You touch the grass as if it was hand that, though dead, still yearns to carress)

I think about loss and grief for the silliest things. I will probably never see this one copy of "Akademia Pana Kleksa" again. It was probably lost, or sold in some garage sale, or is in some attic. And I miss it right now. The book's titular academy only admitted boys whose names began with A. I always thought that was deeply unfair as a child. I spent much of my childhood wanting to be my brother: a boy whose name begins with A.

He was born 9 months after my parents were married, when my mum was 25. I was born two years later. My brother studies maths and IT. He plays the guitar. The first time I remember getting into serious trouble was when I was 2, and he scared me, so I punched him on the nose. He is probably the person I love the most in the world.

When I had the worst hangover in my life, when I drifted in and out of consciousness until 5. I dreamt that he was in my room and that was one of the most realistic dreams I've ever had. And even though at this point I hadn't seen him in a month, in the dream, I felt like I hadn't seen him in years, as if he had died years ago. Very much "in my dreams you're alive and you're crying", two-headed boy, pt 2, by Neutral Milk Hotel. Go listen to it. We just sat on the floor and talked. And then he told me to go to the kitchen to make some tea, and I started crying because I knew that he'd be gone when I was back. And he was. I felt biblically sad in that dream.

When my mum was 18 she had a son, whose name also began with A. He died when he was 9. I was six months old. I know I don't remember him, but my mind fabricated a memory of him in which I'm a literal baby in a pram and he's walking beside me and I cannot see his face. I used to dream of him often, but I haven't in years. In one dream, when I was 7 or 8 or 9, he was my age, and we played in a sandbox, and he told me that he didn't die when the bus hit him, he only broke his leg.

And since then, he lived in that playground, never ageing, always sitting there in the sandbox and making sandcastles. And it was a very fun dream. I got to hang out with him and make sandcastles. But some part of me knew, even then, that I would grow up, and I would stop coming to the sandcastle. In another dream, he also turned out to have survived the accident. But he had grown older, put on weight. I didn't recognize him. He seemed boring to me, and rude, and unintelligent. I didn't like him. I would often imagine what he'd be like. Deeply religious, which would lead to conflict with my staunchly anti-theist parents, or a smoker who wanted to move away as fast as possible?

But now I almost never think of him anymore, unless someone asks: "how many siblings do you have?". Yesterday, my mum sent a photo of our cat on her bed to the family group chat. His photo was on the wall, as it always is, with a sheepish smile, against a blue background. This is where he exists.

[nicka-nell]

HQHQ Collab - First Choice

Pairing: Atsumu x reader, mention of Bokuto

Words: 6.822

Warning: mention of unnamed cheating ex-boyfriend, angst if you squint really hard, fluff, friends to lovers

Beta-reader: thank you for beta reading the fic @xmyshya

Summary: You’ve been living with your best friend for a few weeks, crying to him about your ex-boyfriend cheating on you. But Atsumu no longer wants to see you sad and offers himself as Wingman once more when he tries to set you up with his teammate.

This story is part of our HQHQ server collab with the prompt: When will I be someone’s first choice? Tell me, when? You can find the other stories here. So check out all the other wonderful writers.

“Y/n now go on and get up!” Atsumu’s loud voice wakes you up. With swollen eyes you turn to him, your hair still ruffled, left and right of you lie the crumpled handkerchiefs with which you have cried yourself quietly and secretly into sleep.

You’re tired, your head hurts, and Atsumu’s loud babbling doesn’t help your headache to settle. Reluctantly you pull your blanket over your head, but in vain. Because even before you can get used to the darkness and the warmth underneath, to the calm without the voice of the dyed blond-haired man, he pulls the coat off your body with a jerk and confronts you with the cold morning air, through the open window in your room.

“Tsumu, you idiot, give me the blanket back!” You whine, but he doesn’t even think about it. “Why does your bed look like a mess again? It’s been two months, and you’re still crying after this asshole? It’s enough with moping around.” Before he can finish his sentence, you can feel his hands curling around your ankles and how your legs were jerking forward, setting your entire body in motion.

“Tsumu what are you doing?” You scream and try to hold on to the upper edge of the bed. For a few seconds you manage to resist his tug, but you soon realize that he is stronger than you.

But Atsumu has apparently forgotten to calculate that you would let go and pulls you off the bed with so much momentum that you both land on the floor.

“Ah, Tsumu you airhead! Now my ass and feet are hurting. Why did you do this?” You want to know while you’re rubbing your butt, which you landed on a few seconds ago. Sulking, you look over to your best friend, who is also sitting on the floor, supporting his weight on hands behind his back.

“Sorry, I forgot how weak you are.” He teases you with a grin. “But you seem to be awake now, eh?”

“Yeah, awake and angry…” You quickly add to his statement and look at him with a wrinkled forehead. “Don’t look so evil. That wannabe look doesn’t suit you. I told you before, if you want to talk, I’m just a room away. No need to cry yourself to sleep.”

Even if he annoyed you earlier, you realize in his words that he’s worried about you. It’s been two months since you saw your boyfriend… No Ex-boyfriend with another girl. Just “saw them” is wrong. He had kissed her, touched her, and you were sure that if you hadn’t confronted them directly, more would have happened.

Atsumu was there for you, caught you with open arms and told you that everything would be fine. Because that’s how he always was. Back then, when the kids at school had teased you, when the girls had blasphemed you because you had always gotten along better with the boys. He was also the one who comforted you at your first lovesickness.

Ironically, you had a crush on his brother, who at the time had no thought of such trifles as love. The first time you were really in love with someone, it was Atsumu who tried to set you up with that person. Because it was none other than his volleyball teammate Suna who had twisted your head.

The fake blonde had really tried everything to make you as interesting as possible for Suna, had always invited you and Suna to ‘learn’ and then left the room for hours to leave you alone. But in the end, it didn’t work out because Suna told you he had feelings for another girl.

When your heart broke into thousands of pieces for the first time, it was Atsumu who had carefully tried to pick up all the shards and cautiously glue them back to the right place. He was always there for you. And even though you know what your heart wants, you shut yourself away from it. Because Atsumu is your best friend. The man who will always stand behind you to give you a push forward so you can finally find your happiness. Without him.

“That’s enough sulking! What do you say you come to practice with me today? Get to know my teammates and friends? Maybe there’s someone in there who piques your interest, eh?” He grins mischievously and wiggles his eyebrows before he straightens up and stretches his hand forward to help you up.

“Mhm… You’re not gonna leave me alone before I say yes anyway, are you?” You mumble as he pulls your body upward.

He still grins as he nods and lets go of your hand just to bring it to your hair. “But before that… you go take a shower and make sure that this nest on your head becomes the normal beautiful hair you actually have. All right?” He laughs as he pulls a scrap of a handkerchief out of your hair.

Oh God, how embarrassing you think and at the same moment you have to laugh. No matter what you look like, even if you are wrinkled, with greasy hair, mustard stains on your top and swollen eyes, Atsumu still likes you. After all, he sees you as a buddy.

“Well, I guess… I’m gonna get ready. Can you make breakfast, Tsumu?”

“Are you nuts? There is no more time for breakfast. I can heat the last slice of pizza from last night’s movie.”

“Oh, you’ll be such a good husband someday, Tsumu.” You answer him sarcastically as you shake your head and pass Atsumu.

“Sure, and you eventually become a good wife Y/n.” He calls after you, but you already lift your middle finger and slam the door behind you with a smile on your face. “Tze… Tsumu you idiot.”

The knife slices the butter with ease as Atsumu greases the butter on a toasted slice of bread to put your favorite cold cuts on top. Because he was just joking. Your first meal shouldn’t be a piece of old pizza.

When you’re with Atsumu, you forget all the things that made you sad. You’re happy and glad to have such a good friend by your side. And even though you said it sarcastically earlier, you still meant it like this, that he would make a woman very happy. Just with the thought of him and another woman, you feel a short sting in your chest, but you are sure that deep down you have to think about your ex-boyfriend and that you still miss him.

“Ready to go! Give me that slice of pizza or I’ll eat your friends.” You shout out to Atsumu as you enter the hallway through the doorstep. Once in there, you can hear his muffled voice calling out to you while his voice comes closer and closer.

It is only a second where Atsumu stops in the doorway, looks at you before he continues his walk and pushes the slice of bread and an apple into your hand. “I can’t let you smell like tuna and garlic the first time you met my friends.”

With rolling eyes you take the bread from him, push it into your mouth before putting on your thin cardigan and place the apple in your jacket pocket. According to your phone, the weather today is anything but cool and gray.

But just as you want to pull your zipper up, you feel something heavy landing on your shoulders, looking confused from left to right before your gaze sweeps up from the yellow fabric on your shoulders to the fake blond-haired man.

You don’t need words, your gaze is filled with the question of why he gave you his jacket. But again he just lay down his arms against his hips, grins casually. “Well, you’re with me or not? Not that they’ll think you’re a paparazzo at the gym entrance and not let you in.”

With the words ‘you’re with me,’ your heart gives a beat. “Don’t you think your friends will think we’re together, Tsumu? That this is more such a friend-girlfriend thing?”

The entire car ride is quiet, but it’s not an unpleasant silence. Only the radio rattles quietly, while Atsumu complains about the careless drivers or cyclists, and that there is never a parking space in front of the gym.

“Ah, don’t talk such nonsense. You can tell we’re just friends, you dummy.” Another bang, no stab, making your chest heavier. “Sure… right.” You just mumble quietly. So quietly that Atsumu cannot understand it as you breathe in the fine fragrance of his harsh deodorizer as you walk past him and leave the flat.

You have to admit you’re a little nervous standing outside the hall with Atsumu. You can hear voices from inside. Probably his friends. As if Atsumu understood your feelings, he puts his arm over your shoulder to give you more security, and enters the room freshener smelling hall with you.

It doesn’t take long for all eyes to be on you until the first person beckons Atsumu and the next one goes on you. A boy with orange hair that you remember very well. Atsumu’s school team had a game against him. They lost and Atsumu was talking to you for weeks about how he wanted to play with this little boy sometime.

Behind him stands a dark-haired man, hands in the pockets of his jacket, while he lingers in place, watching you only from a distance. That should be Sakusa. The guy Atsumu always talks about, how clean and special he is when it comes to hygiene.

Just when you want to turn to Hinata again, as he is still waving towards you, another man runs towards you at an incredible speed, shaking your hand vigorously with sparkling eyes. Your whole body is shaking, you’re getting headaches, but somehow you find his overactive anticipation cute.

“Hey, hey, hey! I‘m Bokuto Koutarou! I’m a super ace and I’m really successful!” He grins proudly, which makes you giggle. Of course he is. After all, he plays in the same team as Atsumu.

Yet Bokuto does not remain long in his proud posture. His shoulders collapse after a few seconds, while his gaze wanders to Atsumu. “Hey, Tsum-Tsum, why didn’t you tell me you were coming with your girlfriend today?” He wants to know from the fake blonde one.

Irritated, you look over to Bokuto, wanting to clear up the misunderstanding as the voice of an older man interrupts you. “Miya, the next time you bring someone, please report this to me first. Now, warm up and let’s start training.” The man you consider to be the coach says to Atsumu, who nods in agreement before pointing at a bench where you should sit, before he goes to warm up with Bokuto and Hinata.

Although you talk little to people, you’re not bored watching them train. It pleases you to see how everyone is with full passion. From time to time the man who introduced you as Bokuto grins at you, waving a little awkwardly before Atsumu admonishes him and turns his attention away from you. He’s kind of cute.

“Oh Tsumu…” you mumble quietly while chuckling unconsciously as you watch Atsumu reprimand Bokuto for being so easily distracted, and how Bokuto lets his shoulders drop apologetically.

“You seem to have had a lot of fun today, eh?” The question is rhetorical, because of course you did. He recognized that in your face. With the rest of yesterday’s pizza and a salad with smoked tofu, he sits down next to you at the dinner table.

The training passes, and your attention on Bokuto grows. First a few glimpses you exchange, then words and sentences, up to such long dialogues that he completely forgets his break and is called back to the playing field by Atsumu to finally finish the training.

“You could have introduced me to your friends earlier. Especially Bokuto. He’s kind of cuddly.” You babble while you are in your thoughts about the cheerful man.

“So, so… Bokuto, huh? Looks like I got a new job as a wingman, eh? Give me a few days to figure something out. Operation Lovebirds begins.” His eyes are narrow and playful, while his face is only a few inches away from yours.

As Atsumu had said, a few days pass. Days in which you were always at his training, always with the yellow jacket which makes you feel much safer and more comfortable. Days when you often talk to Bokuto during breaks.

Your heart gives a quick blow as the warmth of his breath hits your lips. From the excitement? Excitement to see Bokuto again soon, right? With an unnaturally bright laugh, you slap him on the shoulder, turn to the pizza, before you both go to your own rooms and get ready for bed.

Atsumu has the idea to take Bokuto to Osamu’s store, like he’s doing almost every Saturday to eat together. Sometimes the other teammates come with him, but this time he will only ask Bokuto.

He wants to lure him to the store and write to him shortly before, so that he has no time. You would sit already in the store and then pretend after a few minutes as if you had randomly noticed Bokuto. You could eat, talk and maybe even exchange your numbers. The idea was perfect.

As agreed, you sit at a table near the kitchen, looking at the menu while watching Bokuto from the corner of your eye. How he reaches for his cell phone and how his cheerful look is slowly getting sad, because he probably reads the message from Atsumu that he will not come.

You consider going straight to him, but your vibrating phone prevents you from it. A message from Atsumu with the words ‘Mission lovebirds can begin’. An unconscious grin spreads across your face as you read the message before a voice makes you shrink.

“Has someone also dumped you?” You hear Bokuto’s sad voice and make a brief shout when you see him standing right next to you. “Bokuto!”

You laugh a lot, seem to have a lot of fun and get along great. At least that’s what Atsumu can see from his brother’s kitchen. Because of course he didn’t want to miss out on seeing if you two really come along well with each other.

“Ah! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you! Uh… mind if I sit here?” He asks clumsily, pointing to the free chair opposite of you. Nodding, you invite him to sit down before quickly putting your phone in a pocket and start talking to Bokuto.

“Why are you here, Tsumu?” His brother’s voice makes him look away from you.

“Eh? What do you mean, Samu? I want to see if I’m successful with my mission.”

“Sure, stop lying to yourself.” Osamu quietly talks to his twin while he continues to prepare the Onigiri for his guests. But his brother doesn’t answer him, just looks out of the round kitchen window at the table where you talk to Bokuto with a smile on your face.

“You know I didn’t reject Y/n back then because I had no interest in girls. So finally get some balls in your pants.” With a full plate of Onigiri, Osamu crosses his twin, passes the plate to his server at the counter, before he enters the kitchen without a word.

“If she’s happy, I’m happy for her too. Why don’t you understand, Samu?” He now turns his gaze away from you, instead looking at the unfinished rice that Osamu had prepared for the next order. It annoys him that his brother has to address this topic again and again. It’s not up to Atsumu to decide what you want. After all, it’s up to you.

“So? So you don’t mind if I invite her on a date if it doesn’t work out with Bokuto? As long as she’s happy, it shouldn’t be a problem for me to taste her lips.” He deliberately tries to provoke his brother, and for a split second he sees Atsumu twitching his eyes, his cheekbones sticking out from his clenched teeth before looking his brother in the eye.

“If that’s what makes her happy. Then make her happy, damn it, understand?”

“What the hell, what’s wrong with you, Tsumu!” His brother yells at him, furiously stomping to him and grabbing him by his collar. He expected such an answer, but not this flat, indifferent response, which is supposed to hide Atsumu’s feelings.

Atsumu also grabs his twin by the collar, pushes him away from himself and continues the scramble. Again and again he tries to explain to him it is not Osamu’s problem and he should not interfere in his things and anew Osamu tries to convince him to finally listen to his feelings. Plates fall over, knives that lay on the work surface as the voice of the server stops the two men.

“Eh… I’m sorry, but at table four, the lady was asking what was in the spring drink because of her allergies.” Both let off from each other while Atsumu’s steps carry him quickly back to the round window to look at your table. Because he’s irritated that you’re asking that question.

The fake blond man hardly notices the voices of the two men in the kitchen. His heart suddenly beats restlessly. A young girl your age sat next to you and Bokuto. Atsumu’s plan to set you up with Bokuto seems to be failing.

“Nobody ditched me, Bokuto. Actually, I just wanted to drop by and leave Osamu a nice greeting when it becomes a bit quieter here. But it always seems to be full here.” You lie because you wouldn’t even have come here without this plan from Atsumu.

He feels bad that a small part of him hopes Bokuto finds the other girl interesting, but Atsumu quickly talks himself up that he just wants you to be happy.

With a quick beating heart you hope that Bokuto does not see through your lie, but when he smiles at you, you are sure that he believes you.

“Oh sure, right! If you know one Miya brother, you automatically have the other on your back, don’t you? Especially when you’re so close.” He grins, and his words remind you of the incident in the gym. There, Bokuto said something similar. He wrongly portrayed you as girlfriend and friend, which was certainly due to Atsumu’s jacket. And just as you were about to correct him there, their trainer babbled something into the room.

You definitely need to clarify that you two are just friends, otherwise you can’t ask Bokuto for his number. Just friends…

“Uh Bokuto? I think there’s been a misunderstanding. Tsumu and I-”

“Y/n? Oh my God, is that you?”

Again, someone interrupts you. This time not Atsumu’s coach or Atsumu, but a person you haven’t seen for ages. Your old school friend, who was with you at the same club and with whom you really got along well.

Because of your ex-boyfriend, your paths somehow separated, but you’re thrilled to see her now. “Oh Mei, is it you? You’ve really changed, wow.” You smile at her before you greet her and sit down again.

“I don’t want to bother you guys, and I’m sure that’s rude, but is it okay if I join you? If I annoy you, I’ll leave!”

Mostly you’re just here to get a date with Bokuto, but sending her away now would be too suspicious. For a moment you think about how to best handle this situation, but Bokuto takes the decision off you by inviting her to join you and just stay as long as she wants.

You talk partly to Mei, partly to Bokuto for a while when you check if Atsumu has written anything to you. You’re surprised he hasn’t asked you how the date goes. Is he on a date right now himself?

“Y/n? Did you hear?” Mei’s voice gets you out of your mind again, before you look at her absent-minded. “I have to go now, but… I was really happy to see you again and I hope we can repeat that soon. And I was also pleased to meet you Bokuto.” She adds, before she smiles at you both and goes to the counter to pay her bill and leave the bar.

Just when Bokuto wants to say something, his phone rings and he apologizes to you for a moment. You take the opportunity to write to Atsumu, ask him if you should take some Onigiri with you from his brother’s shop and hope for a hint if he had a date. Because if he doesn’t want some Onigiri, he sure is having dinner with another woman.

Two minutes go by, four… Ten minutes until Bokuto comes back in, and you feel your phone vibrating at the same moment. A simple “No, I’ve already eaten.” is his answer. An answer that suddenly makes you feel so weird.

“I’m so sorry I kept you waiting. Akaashi, my best friend, called me. I have to see him. Is it okay if we postpone our meeting for another time? So… I mean this random meeting.” He smiles embarrassed, and scratches the back of his head as he puts his jacket around his shoulders and shoves the chair back to the table.

“Oh hm? Sure. I would be happy to meet you again Bokuto!” You answer him enthusiastically, even if you’re still on Atsumu’s date in your mind. Did he really go out with a girl? Why do you not know her? Why didn’t he tell you?

“Perfect! So, I’ll see you at practice tomorrow?”

“Sure, I’ll be there.”

“Then let’s talk about some meetings during my break. I’ll go to Samu and pay the bill for us.”

“Wa-!” You want to stop him, pay your own bill but Bokuto already stamps away from you and knocks on the kitchen door to lure Osamu out and pay.

He doesn’t know how fast he ran to be home before you. Good thing he didn’t tell you about the shortcut, or you’d have run into each other. Fully sweaty, he jumps into the shower, trying to get the smell of Osamu’s kitchen out of his hair as he hears your voice dull from the hallway in the bathroom.

Together you leave the restaurant, but then go your separate ways. Although this is not the first time you walk this path, even though you don’t need twenty minutes on the way, it seems like an eternity to you. Absorbed in your thoughts, you kick a round stone along the sidewalk, burying your hands in your trouser pockets while watching it roll. The long gray road matching gray walls on the sidewalk, no car to see. Everything is dreary and you feel odd, but also happy at the same time. After all, Bokuto seems as interested in you as you are in him. You can quickly overlook the fact that Atsumu is probably on his own date right now.

“Tsumu? Are you home airhead?”

Hissing, he shakes his head, rubs his towel through his wet hair, ties it around his hip and glances into the mirror before he goes out.

“Tsumu! Put some damn clothes on!”

“I’m also pleased to see you. Got my clothes in the bedroom. Don’t worry, I’ll put something on. But first, how was your date?” The question was unnecessary. Of course he knew, because he was there, watching you. But you don’t know that.

Atsumu studies how you dance on your tiptoes, how you swing your body forward and backward, and tap your lower lip. You always do that when you’re nervous. But before he can even give another thought to you, your body moves forward in his direction.

Just a few seconds pass when your soft skin lies on his, your arms wrap around his neck and you hug him. Atsumu stops as if petrified. Because his heart beats fast, your body so close to his triggers so much in him.

Carefully, he pushes you away from his chest, hoping you didn’t hear his raging heart. Yet, your arms remain on his neck, your warmth on him, although this on his chest slowly fades.

Lovingly you look at him, a look that gives him an unknown sting. An expression that you would probably turn to a big brother, otherwise he cannot interpret it. But he cannot look away from your warm eyes. Those bright, happy eyes that captivate him.

“The date was really great and tomorrow at the training we want to make a new one! Bokuto is such an incredibly great guy, and he is so funny. He made me laugh so many times and it’s sweet how emotional he always is and ah! He is really fine. Thank you for introducing him to me.”

Silently you look each other in the eyes, speak with your eyes instead of words. Subconsciously, your fingers move, gently stroking his neck up and down, while your sugar-sweet laugh makes Atsumu even crazier.

His body acts on its own as it bends forward, coming to a halt just in front of your face. But his mind quickly catches up with his body, for his words wander down your cheek to your ears as he whispers to you quietly that he is happy for you.

“So mission complete, eh?” With a mischievous grin, he tries to distract you from his previous action, patting on your shoulders with his hands before he walks past you and strolls towards his room door.

“I’m gonna put some clothes on. You should take a shower and get some sleep. You stink and need your beauty sleep for Bokuto tomorrow.”

“Haha, very funny! I love you too, you idiot.”

Days go by when you talk to Bokuto a lot. At training, to the detriment of everyone else, eating ice cream after training or just sitting around in the park and doing nothing. You get along well, laugh a lot, talk a lot about his buddies - Akaashi and Atsumu. After your dates you always tell Atsumu how much fun you had and are sure that you deafen his ears with your Bokuto-talk.

Words that come so easily out of your lips, for they are meant amicably. Words that are so easy to understand, but leave a bitter heavy feeling in his heart.

Today you both sit on a wall in the park again, fooling around like good friends. For a moment your shoulders brush against each other, when Bokuto twitches and stares embarrassed down at you. You too feel your body getting more restless, out of balance as you look into his golden yellow eyes. Both of you are silent, always opening your mouth to say something, but then close it again.

“So, eh… Do you… remember our first random meeting? In Osamu’s store?” Bumpy, he tries to find the right words, starts playing with the moss growing between the grooves of the stone wall.

Your chest suddenly stops moving. Out of panic you hold your breath because you are afraid that he has found out that Atsumu is behind this coupling action.

“I was wondering if… Well, there was your school friend there, and I was wondering if maybe you could… could give me her number?”

“Her number?” You realize how anger slowly boils in you, how an unpleasant feeling rages in your body and you suddenly feel so uncomfortable and stupid. With a bitter hiss you laugh up, turn your face away from Bokuto so that he cannot see your sparkling eyes. Eyes that don’t sparkle with joy, no. Eyes that sparkle with tingling tears and leave small wet spots, like those of rain, on the stone wall below you.

Of course he wanted her number, of course he did. After all, it was always like this. Whether it was Osamu or Suna, your ex boyfriend or any other man you found cute or attractive. You were always the second choice. You were always good as a friend, but not good enough as a girlfriend. There was always another who came before you, who had taken the place that you had so longingly aspired to. It was always like this.

So why did you think things should be different with Bokuto right now? Did you really think there was a man who had only you in his mind? A man who adores you as much as you do him?

“Why all the dates Bokuto? Why did you invite me to all those dates, get my hopes up if you only wanted my friend’s number, anyway? Why...? Never mind, forget it!” You sniff and jump off the wall to get out of here as soon as possible. Only Bokuto remains, sitting on the wall in confusion, trying to understand your last words.

With his cell phone in his hand, Atsumu scrolls through your messages, through your enthusiastic and joyful words about Bokuto while lying on the couch, the free hand behind his head. On the table is the last bit of a spinach-garlic pizza he ordered shortly after you went on your date with Bokuto. His thumb stops at a note in which you jokingly wrote to him that you also love him when he teased you with your crush on Bokuto. Words that hurt more every day, the longer you stay at Atsumu’s flat.

“Get your hopes up? H- Hey, Y/n wait!” He calls you, but your silhouette gets smaller and smaller. You’re not thinking of turning in his direction again.

His gaze is focused on his cell phone, the thumb still on that one message as a new message covers it. Irritated, he looks at the name of his teammate, who sends him one message after the other. Although he hasn’t read the messages yet, he has a bad feeling. He doesn’t know if it’s worry or something else, but he must think of you directly as he opens the messages with shaky fingers and straightens up on the sofa.

>> Tsumu-Tsumu! Get on your phone! I think I screwed up! I thought Y/n is your girlfriend and today something weird happened, and! I screwed up, man. Tell her I- <<

Atsumu is still reading Bokuto’s incoming messages, can hardly keep up with them when the loud banging of the front door makes him startled. As if he has just been caught in something forbidden, he throws his cell phone in panic behind the couch and looks in the direction of the living room door in which you suddenly stand.

Your eyes are red, nose runny, and your words come to him only as a loud sob. In him everything hurts at this sight of you.

“Tsumu!” You sniff and want to make a step forward to your best friend, but Atsumu is faster. He takes you in his arms as you press your head against his warm chest. His fingertips glide slowly through your hair, calming you while his grip around your waist becomes firmer.

“It’s okay, I’m here.” His words that softly kiss your ears calm you down. He knows exactly that there is no point in questioning you now, because you are still too busy collecting yourself again. So he just keeps silent, caresses your head and listens to you as your sniffing gets less and less, your fast, hasty breathing gets calmer and calmer.

“You want to tell me what happened?” His muscular arm loosens easily from your waist, his hand stroking you, now raises your head and makes you look at him. With a loving smile, he wipes away your tears, puts his arms on your shoulders and waits for your answer.

Hard you breathe out, try to pull yourself together, but your voice remains shaky.

“Bokuto… He just wanted her number… He didn’t care about me.” You notice how your voice becomes unclear again, begins to tremble more and your sniffing is again to take over your voice. But Atsumu’s thumb, which caresses your shoulders, calms you down again and you try to spell your words back into clear sentences.

“He wasn’t interested in me. At least not so… Tsumu, it’s like that every time. Men always fall in love with other women. I’m always just the third wheel. Am I that ugly? Am I so unattractive that every man sees me as a buddy? Tsumu… When will I be someone’s first choice? Tell me, when?”

Your eyes glittering with tears, search for his eyes. His heart breaks with the sad look you give him. And although the answer to your question is on his lips, he would like to scream it out of himself, yet a big lump sticks to his neck and keeps him silent.

“Tsumu when?” Is the only thing that comes out of you broken, now that not even your best friend can give you an answer to that question.

It was probably his fault you’re so sad now. Because Bokuto didn’t mention that school friend of yours once. He probably only said that because he thought you were Atsumu’s girlfriend and he didn’t want to destroy the friendship of the two men.

It was Atsumu’s fault that when he introduced you to his team, he didn’t make it right that you weren’t his girlfriend. The fake blond had not done this on purpose. His words just didn’t want to come out of him back then. Only later he had understood why he had tried to make his friends believe that you are his girlfriend.

He’d have to answer his cell phone, read Bokuto’s messages to be one hundred percent sure he wasn’t serious about your school friend, but his body isn’t moving. Actually, he can’t move anyway, because you clenched your hands into fists and clutched them into his shirt.

Atsumu should set it right. But in him, Osamu’s voice pushes forward. The words Atsumu wanted to deny. ‘You’re in love with her… Stop lying to yourself… Finally, get some balls in your pants.’

Not even your best friend can answer your question. How could he if he met with others every time you were with Bokuto? But even though it hurts that Bokuto rejected you, it hurts more that Atsumu doesn’t give you an answer.

With a sad sigh, you push his hands off your shoulders and set your legs in motion to go to your bedroom and be alone. But you can’t take many steps, because Atsumu holds you to your wrist just to turn you back to him.

Slowly, without strength and without joy, you look up to him. In his face, which shows so many emotions at once, yet he tries to hide them all from you. You notice how he struggles with his words, not knowing how to begin. His grip on your arm gets tighter. It almost hurts, but you say nothing.

“You… You have always been… my first choice.” He says hesitantly, in such an uncertain tone which is unlikely for him. His words are so quiet that you don’t understand them, just look at him questioning.

“Y/n, you have always been and always will be my first choice. Shit, I know I’m gonna ruin our friendship with this, but I can’t do this anymore. I’m selfish, yes, I know. I didn’t correct the statement when Bokuto said that you were my girlfriend because I didn’t want to see you with someone else who would just hurt you again. Y/n I can’t see you sad anymore. I don’t want to see you like this anymore. It just doesn’t work anymore. Ever since you’ve began living here, swinging your sweet little ass around my apartment, eating with me, spending evenings, and almost all days, I can’t think of anything but seeing you as more than just a buddy. Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you? Shit, you airhead, I love you.”

His words become clearer and clearer, on the contrary to his expression. Then, as his tone becomes firmer, his gaze becomes more anxious. And now you understand. You always wanted the perfect boyfriend. Wanted to have a man by your side who loves you, who Atsumu gets along with since he is your best friend and had never noticed that he was always your second choice.

You always wanted someone who liked your friends, who understood you, and that person was always at your side. You knew why Bokuto’s words didn’t hurt you as much as Atsumu’s silence a few minutes earlier. You knew why you enjoyed wearing Atsumu’s jacket, and you knew why it didn’t bother you that Atsumu had not corrected the statement, and so the rumor arose that you two were a couple. Also you knew why you wanted to convince yourself that Atsumu met other women to not feel bad about going out with one of his friends. You knew, but you never wanted to face it. Because like Atsumu, you were afraid of losing the person you needed most.

You open your mouth soundlessly. If you say nothing now, you are sure that the man in front of you will immediately lose his temper with excitement and fear.

Although you have said the words many times, your heart is racing like crazy, your belly is tingling and your chest is almost painfully contracting. You’re nervous, nervous like when you had to introduce yourself to the big class full of people.

��I love you too, you idio-” Before you can finish your sentence, the warm lips of Atsumu, which lie gently on yours silence your last words. Full of pleasure you give a quiet whimper, trying to calm your loud throbbing heart in vain. Because your body burns, trembles, is numb and awake at the same time. Your thoughts are going crazy.

Atsumu also gives a relieved sigh, almost as if a huge load has fallen from his shoulders. His arms quickly wrap around your cheeks, stroking your face while his lips open a little and you feel his wet tongue on your mouth. You have the feeling that your body has just gotten warmer, reducing the last distance between you and giving off a gasp as you also open your mouth slightly to allow him to enter. His hand, which stroked your cheek earlier, seeks its way to the back of your head to bury itself in your hair and pull your head back a bit to kiss you better.

For a moment your tongues dance together, your bodies almost link as you interrupt your kiss and look into Atsumu’s excited face. His cheeks are reddish, lips slightly puffed up from your kiss, while his breath lands warm on your body.

“What’s the matter Y/n?” He whispers hoarsely, the expression slightly playful. But you just look at him with a slightly silly grin.

“Did you eat garlic, Tsumu?”

For a moment he looks at you, as if a fuse blew through him. He’s thinking about what you meant by that, before he starts sulking while stretching his head backwards, so that he’s looking at the ceiling.

“Ah shit, if I had known I’d tell you that I love you, that we would be kissing, I would have bitten into a rose and not into a pizza with extra garlic.”

Laughing, you put your head on his chest, looking up at him while he continues to stare at you sulking. “Is there still a slice, bunny?”

“One piece, but it’s already bitten, babe.” He grins and reminds you of all the nights you two sat on the sofa watching series and arguing about who gets the last piece of food. Once Atsumu had licked the last piece and thus reserved it for himself, sometimes you were faster. You were acting like toddlers, but you were having an incredible time. You just had fun with him, always.

“Your tongue was watching if all my teeth were still in my mouth a few seconds ago. Do you think it bothers me that the pizza piece is bitten?”

“Guess not. But give your sexy boyfriend a last stinky kiss. Okay?” He smirks and sharpens his lips playfully to tease you and brings his arms around your body so that you can’t escape. Only so you press his lips away from you, laughing until Atsumu finally gives you a fleeting kiss and you act as if you faint and lean against his chest.

Your loud laughter resounds through the room and your hands do not let go of the other until you are quiet and enjoy the moment in silence.

“I love you Y/n. You, my first choice.” He whispers to you as he gives you one last kiss on your crown.

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Idiot | Tony Stark

Hey lovelies— I wrote some flangst even though I have a billion other things that needed to be written. I really woke up and said “comfort character? I think you mean: Tony Stark” and then wrote a fic with no plot. It’s just sappy and sad and cuddly and kinda’ elusive as to the relationship. Might expand on this or might let it sit in the void like I am :) Enjoy

Description: Literally like zero plot, this was literally written today this morning because I am a heartbroken mess and I fucking hate real life men right now and I hate the military and I hate guys who tell you that you’re special when they don’t fucking mean it and I really need a Best Friend/Maybe More!Tony Stark cuddle

Pairing: Best Friend / Maybe More!Tony Stark x Female!Reader

Warnings: Like nothing, kinda angsty

Word count: 2.7k

Tags: Fluff, Angst, breakups LOL

She wakes up screaming again. This is the ninth night in a row and she’s starting to think that the others are going to request to soundproof her room. She wouldn’t blame them. She would almost prefer they do that because at least then she won’t have to stop screaming when she wakes up. She can just keep going and finally run out of voice and then maybe— maybe— she won’t be able to say his name anymore.

She flips over, her hair plastered to the back of her neck, her stomach tossing like she’s on a roller coaster. She can’t tell if she wants to cry or throw up— she wants to scream at both choices. She wants to rip her hair out too but then she would be sad and bald and she can only do one of those things right now. She’s not deep enough in the spiral to chop it off yet— that’s a day twelve activity.

She settles on crying— like she even has a choice— and soon her room is filled with the sound of her heaving against a pillow that still smells too much like him. She tosses it— she whips it across the damn room and doesn’t flinch when she hears something shatter. It was nothing important, she knows that for a fact. She hopes it’s the picture of them.

She pulls her knees up, tucking them under her torso, praying the pressure will alleviate the bubbling in her stomach. It won’t— she’s only fooling herself. He’s not a cramp— it’s not food poisoning; it’s rage. It’s brain melting sadness. It’s every ‘Good morning beautiful’ and ‘I miss you’ and ‘I love—

No. Nope— not that one. She can’t think about that one. If she does then she might never stop— she might take a match to everything in this room, every piece of clothing in her closet, every mug in the kitchen that he ever touched. Where would she be then— stuff-less, clothes-less, and with every Avenger looking for a coffee mug pissed at her?

Yeah no— better to just not think about it. Better to just scream.

She squeezes her eyes closed— not like it matters, the room is pitch black anyway— and slams her fist against the mattress, letting the sting that rips up her arm ring louder than his name in her head. It only works for a moment before it’s back— louder and angrier than ever. Louder and angrier than her. His name in her head is a separate entity, haunting her skull like it’s a dilapidated mansion, trying to evict her from the endless halls of her own mind.

She bunches the blanket up, shoving it against her mouth and praying that it muffles the crazed roar that sheds from her lungs— like an animal being ripped apart, she can’t tell if she’s screaming for help or for something so much worse.

There’s a knock on the door and she freezes, her blood running ice cold. A few seconds tick by, her limbs and jaw glued into a tight position, tongue heavy and aching in her mouth. Her heart pounds hard in her chest— the entity knocking back to whoever’s at the door— there’s just no way.

“Would you open the door if I told you there are macaroons in my hand?” A collected, slightly sarcastic, familiar voice breaks through the wood barrier of her door.

Her shoulders drop, her throat closing slightly— it’s just Tony.

“I— erm—” she jumps off her bed quickly, stumbling in the dark until she finds the lamp on her desk, turning it on the the sight of her blasphemous pillow and the shattered remains of a purple mug— damn she overshot the pillow by an inch— “gimme’ a minute, ‘k?”

“You get five seconds — these walls are thick but Friday alerted me to the— and I quote— distressed wailing.”

Oh god of course she did— how could she forget about the damn AI? She presses her palms against her eyes, wicking away as much moisture as possible. She’s so tired— her bones feel like cement, her neck barely keeping her head screwed on let alone straight. She’s a mess and all she can do is chuck her pillow back on her bed and ignore the purple shards peeking out from behind her dresser. One thing at a time.

She pushes her lead bones to the door, trying not to wince as the light pours into her dim room. She blinks a few times, her eyelashes sticky and cheeks stiff, taking in the man in grey sweatpants and a worn MIT hoodie in front of her. She glances down and sure enough he has a mug of pistachio macaroons. A mug. How ironic.

She flicks her gaze to his face, blinking back another wave of tears when she sees the concern mingling with his coffee eyes. “Hey doll.”

She swallows, trying to clear her stinging throat. It doesn’t work, her voice still sounds like she’s been chain smoking since the ripe age of five years old. “Hey Tony.”

He raises a dark brow, eyes drawing down her front, and she shifts on her feet, wishing the hallway light would flicker out. She just knows her eyes are puffy and her hair a mess. Her t-shirt is definitely crumpled, hiding what she can only hope is shorts and not just a pair of panties, and she only has one sock on— she can feel it now, the hardwood like ice against her toes. Her face flushes with heat, fingers clasping awkwardly in front of her— she may as well have a sign flashing above her head. Heartbroken idiot.

For a moment they just stand there, eyes locked, daring the other to move or speak or do anything at all first. Finally Tony sighs, holding his arms out, shaking his head. “Are you waiting for an invitation? Get your butt over her— now.”

That’s all it takes for her to practically jump into his arms, throwing her weight against the man like a drowning woman would a life preserver. That’s kind of what he is. Her best friend— her life line. Any other time she would have been the one knocking on his door— kicking his door down is more like it— but he told her— he told her that he was no good and she didn’t listen. She wraps her arms around his neck, biting her lip hard enough to keep the tears from dripping down her face again. She missed him— she’s been missing him for months.

“He’s an idiot, doll.” Tony mumbles against her hair, arms circling her back and pressing her to him so tight that it feels like he’s trying to fuse their bodies together.

He smells like motor oil and coffee and her chest shakes from the contrast of the fire in her veins and the cool relief of finally going home. It feels like longer than months— it feels like years. She’s been walking on eggshells around him since she introduced her— now ex— boyfriend. They don’t fight— at least, they didn’t before. They’ve never had a reason to.

Not until him.

Warmth seeps from him, curling around her limbs. She presses her face into his shoulder, breathing in the scent ingrained in his hoodie. He’s been wearing it for a few days, she can tell. If things were normal she would be tugging at the pocket, slipping her hands in and tangling them with his, tracing his knuckles with her thumbs. She’ll settle for this though— she’ll take anything.

“I’m the idiot.” She mutters dejectedly, fingers tugging on his hood, trying desperately to distract herself from how much she wants to scream again. “I thought, Tony— I— god I’m so stupid.”

Tony stiffens, chest like marble and pressing against hers so hard she can feel his heart beating against her practically bare skin— deadly calm but beginning to pick up.

“Don’t you dare.” His voice is gravelly, grinding his words against her ear.

His hold on her loosens and she panics, her own heartbeat spiking rapidly in her chest— what is he doing? Is he leaving? No, no, no he can’t leave! She locks her arms around his shoulders as he bends down, shaking her head, the tears finally spilling over her cheeks, hot and angry and desperate. “No please— don’t go I’m sorry— I’m— please don’t leave me.”

She’s incoherent, not even sure that the words coming out of her mouth make any sense at all but she has to at least try. He can’t leave— not now. She can take a broken heart, she can take one stupid man, she can take having a sockless foot and a head that feels like its caving in— she can’t take her best friend walking away and leaving her in this obscenely bright hallway to fend the light off by herself. If she loses her home she’s done for. “Tony no you can’t— you can’t go.”

She’s sobbing, chest heaving, and she just barely registers the soft clink of the mug settling against the floor before one of his arms is slipping under her thighs, hauling her toes off the floor. His other arm remains anchored around her back, fingers digging into her side to keep her from falling. The sudden motion makes her gasp— a watery, broken noise— her legs pushing around his hips and clinging for dear life.

“Hey—” his jaw rubs against her temple, her cheek pressed against his shoulder, stubble scratchy enough to regain her attention— “I’m here, doll. Right here— you honestly might be an idiot if you think I’m leaving you.”

She chokes out a laugh. It sounds more like a whimper— like she’s scrounging for the last drops of happiness in her for his sake. Probably because she is. She tightens her legs around his waist, socked ankle crossing over bare ankle, sucking in a deep breath as his thumb rubs circles on her ribcage.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did.” She sighs and his hand stills. “You were right.”

“Trust me— I wish I wasn’t.” His fingers crawl up her back, curling around the back of her neck, pushing the hair from her clammy skin.

The warmth of his skin on hers is like heaven and she tries to ignore the fact that he’s touching her while she’s a complete wreck. “You should hate me.”

His hand clamps harder around her skin, the sharp inhale he takes making his chest rise and push against hers. His fingers slip into her hair and he tugs gently, coaxing her to lift her head from shoulder. When she does she meets his determined, narrowed stare and his minute frown. Her heart clenches when she takes in the rest of his face, her gaze landing on the off purple bruises under his eyes, the tell tale sign that her best friend hasn’t been sleeping. It’s her fault— she knows it is.

He shakes his head, his brown hair ruffling slightly. “God, baby, you really are an idiot, aren’t you?”

Her lip trembles, her stomach squeezing— baby. “Tony—”

His forehead drops, his damp skin meeting her own, nose bumping against hers, drawing up the bridge and then back down— she can’t breathe. “You’re an idiot if you think for a second that I could hate you. For anything let alone something so damn ridiculous.”

He laughs a breathy, frenzied sound, nose drawing along her cheekbone. She must be dreaming. That's the only explanation as to the sudden lack of oxygen in the hallway— the only explanation to the way her veins are thrumming like guitar strings being plucked. This can’t be real. She feels like she’s going to wake up any minute now, throat raw and chest aching twice as much.

She opens mouth— she has to say something— but he keeps going. “An idiot if you think I wouldn’t follow you to the other end of the earth. Of the galaxy. Here you are thinking I hate you because you dated a moron? Because, what, I told you not to? Big deal— you tell me not to do things all the time. That’s what we do, baby. We tell eachother not to do stupid things and then we don’t listen.”

He pulls back enough to take in her face, eyes drawing over the curve of her nose and the slope of her cheeks before landing back on hers. His stare is intense— demanding, like him— she wouldn’t be able to look away if she wanted to. That’s impossible though; she could stare at this man all day and not get bored. She thinks back to all those days in his workshop, watching him fiddle with his suits. What she wouldn’t give to be there now, legs curled under her and his MIT hoodie— the same one on him now— pulled over her, singing along to their playlist and passing him screwdrivers. Her chest squeezes at the thought— she can’t remember the last time she did that.

His hand in her hair tugs again and she forces herself to stay in the moment, watching his lips form the words first and then letting her ears catch up. “He was a tool and you’re too good for that, alright? That has nothing to do with us. Point blank, whatever, he has no effect on us. Okay?”

She nods, her nose bumping against his again, and for the first time all night— all week— it feels like she can breathe. “Okay.”

His chest sags under her, the tension in his shoulders releasing under her fingers. “Good. Don’t say stupid things. That’s my job.”

“You’re right.” She cracks a smile, one that feels too foreign but entirely familiar. “You can have it back.”

Tony’s brows push together, head pulling back, his own smile beginning to carve over his lips. “Have what back?”

“The title of world’s biggest idiot.”

Just like that she’s giggling, throwing her head back and letting the laughter pour out of her. It’s cathartic— it’s natural. Like a dam breaking, it’s fast and dangerous and exhilarating. Before she knows it he’s laughing too, his forehead pressing against her shoulder, chest shaking, and she’s digging her fingers into his hoodie to keep herself steady. They’re definitely waking up everyone else in the compound but she doesn’t care. She only throws herself closer to him, hugging him so tight that she’s practically falling over his back, legs locked high around his stomach.

He turns his face against her neck, mumbling his words into her skin. “Missed you, doll.”

Her fingers slip into his hair, toying with the soft strands and sighing. “Missed you more.”

Groaning, he straightens, re-securing his arm around her. He passes her another smile, this one softer, more in control. She pulls at his hair in return, earning a half-hearted eye roll and the reward of him sinking his head against her hands. She scratches at his scalp lightly, scrunching her nose and trying not to giggle again. Now that she’s started she can’t stop— that’s his real super power; leaving her in stitches.

“You think you’re ready to sleep again?”

She sobers at his question, shrugging. She already knows she’s not. The thought of going back to her room and having to sleep without a pillow again, alone, makes her blanche. She would rather not sleep at all then do that. She may as well go make a pot of coffee if that’s her option. The answer bubbles in her mouth— no.

No she is not ready— but she has to be. She has to be a big girl. Even if it means sleeping with the window open so that she can’t smell her sheets, even if it means freezing because the windows are open and she can’t use her blankets, even if she would rather be tucked under the covers of Tony’s bed like the old days when things were normal and she was happy.

But she can’t say that— can she?

“I guess— you gotta’ put me down though,” is what she finally settles on, trying to keep the disappointment from her words. It definitely doesn’t work but for the sake of her sanity she pretends it does.

He frowns— fully this time— blinking at her like she’s grown another head. “Uh no I don’t.”

He says it sarcastically— like she’s crazy for even suggesting such a thing— his face incredulous. It makes her heart spike, adrenaline pumping through her veins. She’s missing something.

“Tony, what are you talking—“

And then he turns, starting down the hall, starting towards his room, and she shuts her mouth. She’s not going to protest— she’s not risking her chance.

She’s not an idiot.

[taylorswiftstylequestions]

Hi Sarah! I previously asked which song grew on you the most (mine was mirrorball) and this discussion of Lover skips made me think about the song that “sank” for me the most, which is MA&THP. I liked it musically when I first listened, but I find the lyrical content a bit convoluted, and ultimately don’t find the political statement it’s supposedly making to be very potent. It’s kind of in a similar camp as YNTCD for me now. Do you have a song that “sank” for you similarly?

This is why I love you guys so much - you ask the most thoughtful and intriguing questions. I LOVE IT!

I think in recent memory it might just perhaps be "my tears ricochet"? Which feels ... blasphemous? It isn't to say that I dislike the song now, I think there are just other more significantly nuanced and complicated and messy songs that took me longer to work my feelings around and thus had a longer shelf life in my brain and soul as I was listening to them so much. Whereas "my tears ricochet" was a song I understood immediately. And I don't mean that it lacks depth or is shallow, but it's just a song that I was like, "Yep that makes sense. I know what that feeling is." I identified it and 'got' it right away. And so as I untangled other songs more, it just kind of slowly sank beneath them. I still love it so much, though! Sad Bitch vibes!!

I also think the 'gimmick' of "no body, no crime" made it sink a little bit for me with more listens. No less enjoyable for sure though - it is Taylor's "Goodbye Earl" and I will always love her for essentially saying to the world: "Just a casual reminder - I can still make country music my bitch whenever I feel like it. Take notes."

[instasiswetrust]

Three days had passed since the revolution started full force, and at last, they had cornered the King and Queen. Ironically enough, they had sought refugee in the temple, amidst the offers to the Goddess and against the wishes of the Holy Priestess.

If they had been doomed with just their actions towards the land, this blasphemous act had only earned them the hatred of the general populace in the capital, even those that would've sided with them before this.

Silently, he makes his way across the rubble and detritus that litter the hallway towards the antechambers of the temple, where he knows everyone is already waiting for him.

Where the King and Queen are waiting for him.

Idly, he thinks that maybe that statement should ache in his chest. Because the King and Queen have never cared enough to wait for him. Had given nothing and demanded everything. Saw a son like one would've seen a puppet.

But he doesn't ache, and he doesn't feel sad. There's no anger, regret, or hatred either. Just a heavy sense of finality, and a steely coldness that he can see reflected in his eyes, his posture, the way he moves.

He's covered in grime, and blood, and ash, but he's never before felt more like the Crown Prince of Hawmond like he does now.

Five pairs of eyes turn to him once he arrives, and he wishes he could make out the emotions that swirl in those gazes but his focus is elsewhere.

The King and Queen have been forced to kneel in the middle of the circle made by the five persons in the room, their hands bound behind their back and clothes filthy with mud and ash but they seem otherwise unharmed. Neither of them looks up when he steps in, but Steve cannot pry his eyes from them.

Someone — Nancy, he thinks — starts officially rattling all the charges of what they are accused of but Steve tunes her out for the biggest part of it. When she ends, he knows it's his turn to speak, so he does.

"How do you plead?" Cold steel. Unbudging. Unfeeling. No mercy or affection coloring the notes of his voice. He almost doesn't recognize it as himself.

That's the moment when his Father — his Father not the King — raises his head and glares at him like he's something gross that has stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

"Do you think this whole drama fest you have shown to the population will help you if we leave, Steven? Don't fool yourself, child. You are not ready for what it means to be king. You would never have been ready. Too vulgar, too broken." Enzo Harrington spits the words in the mother tongue of their people, but Steve doesn't even flinch. The man laughs, a cruel sound that reverberates in the cavernous immensity of the antechamber.

"And with that harlot you have chosen as your mate, what hope is there for the purity of this kingdom?" It's his mother that speaks now, words dripping with so much venom that he knows they are meant to weaken his resolve. Loretta Harrington had always been a vicious woman, even to those she claimed to love.

Off to the side, he hears more than sees Nancy and Robin go rigid where they stand. Their hands are already on the handles of their respective weapons but a subtle shake of his head convinces them to not engage. Yet.

Steve knows that later, once everything has been taken care of and he can properly examine his feelings, he will crumble and burn, out of a mixture of rage and pain. Knows it because he can feel it bubbling in the pit of his stomach, acidic and toxic.

But there's so much to be done yet, and losing his temper would just prove his Father's words.

"If that is all you have to say, then it's settled." He lifts his gaze to stare at the rest of the people in the room, taking a second to make sure he has their full attention. Nancy, Robin, Jonathan, Dustin, Billy. Good.

"Under the gaze of these witnesses, and with the blessing of the Goddess given to me by the Priestess of the Temple of Ruin, I hereby declare Enzo Guiusseppe Harrington and Loretta Giovanna Harrington, guilty of all charges. Tomorrow at dawn, they shall meet their fate at the guillotine."

[sanstropfremir]

kingdom episode 5 review!!! lets fucking go!!!!!

 look. was i insanely hyped for this episode? yes. was my hype justified? also yes. holy FUCKING SHIT. you’ll have to forgive me for going off the rails at some points because ateez and btob directly tapped into something primal in my brain and i am obsessed. i'm obsessed. there’s no other word for it I’m obsessed. 

 ok ok ok i'll focus. i'm focused. i'll do the stage breakdown first and then do my personal ranking at the end. i might do a quick runup comparison of the self and expert rankings for funsies but i'll see how i feel when i get there. instead of going in airing order i’m gonna reverse it, since that was the order i actually watched them in and also i will run out of brains if i talk about rhythm ta first.

skz

i feel for skz. i don't think this show is going to be as much of learning curve as it needs to be for them because the fan voting skews the rankings so much. I’ve said it so many times before, but letting something flop or getting a bad ranking is actually good, because it shows you that you need to improve. because skz keeps getting validated by the fan rankings and placing first in the last two stages, they aren't actually taking the time to evaluate what about their stages is or isn't working. and besides, we’ve now seen two very similar concepts in a row from them, just one is on a grander scale than the other. what they should be doing is what both ateez and btob did for this round, which was scale up production value, but scale down concept. i know this sounds weird but i'll explain. skz has done two very abstract and ‘grand’ concepts. first round we had ghosts/good self vs evil self, and this stage they just went straight for the throat with a deal with the devil type stage. now when you combine these very abstract concepts with an unclear narrative arc, you lose clarity of intent in the performance because there are no specifics that you’re playing off of. there’s a lot more places left up to personal interpretation and this is where people can get lost. btob and ateez both narrowed down their concepts to hyperspecific scenarios where they very clearly showing the audience the arc the stage is taking. audiences can be smart but also if you can lead them by the hand they like not thinking about highly conceptual ideas, and especially not so much in a pop song competition show.

 costume

this is so rare because generally stylists are pretty careful about this, but i genuinely think they got outshone by the backup dancers, especially in the ‘heaven’ sequence. those sash and skirt combos with the strapped white tops that look like straitjackets? the fucking angel wings?! these are some thematically fun costume designs and because they’re white they stand out so much more when skz are wearing black. i also think i've seen these tops on backup dancers before? i thought it was on the last stage but i might be going insane.

i am a sucker for beaded embroidery and the combined dyework on some of their sashes is beautiful. but again, thematically irrelevant? at least you can see the greco-roman inspiration in the backup dancers’ costumes. all this is telling me is that whoever the stitchers are at jype, they are fucking incredible, but they don’t actually have a good designer because the main costumes for all their stages have been both aesthetically similar and thematically irrelevant.

again, i applaud skz for trying more experimental makeup, but boys you have to go bigger, it has no impact right now.

set

well, i did ask for them to commit to the western art bit and they sort of delivered? the first space is not planned very well and combined with the wide wide camera shots instead of making the space seem grand and sweeping it just seems bare. the ‘heaven’ side was excellent though, there was much better control of the camera and the columns and altar scaled the space down so it was more believable. also the breakable columns were fun and corny and i love it when stuff gets destroyed onstage.

the child statue transformation into actual child was a neat trick that i think landed really well. i wish they had given that concept a little more grounding other than the flashback bit but it was still very readable.

i know using rodin's gates of hell is the easiest way to shortcut saying that like, “you are now entering hell,” but them being used SO literally feels a bit blunt when the last time we saw them used in kpop was by original blasphemous catholic lee taemin, who used them with such nuance and intelligence that i'm a bit put off by skz’s literalism.

on that note, i find it very interesting the conflation that happens between greco-roman/”classical” aesthetics and catholicism, because ideologically the two are opposed (see: the bible) and historically, they didn't exist at the same time. now i'm not going to go off on a tangent about neoclassicism because you are not here for an art history lecture but i thought i would make the observation about how catholics continued appropriation of greco-roman aesthetics without complete understanding or context of those aesthetics is as pervasive as it ever has been in the last several hundred years. 

lighting

generally the lighting is pretty good, but there’s an over-reliance on projections that cheapens the look of the stage but also devalues the intentions as well. at the core of it there’s a profound statement being made about trading away your innocence, but when you underscore that with like, clock graphics and a WoW looking demon, it loses that simplicity of message.

the thing about using this particular type of projection, which are actually screens and not typical projectors, is that screens always throw light. and due to where they are situated, this basically means that if you're using the screens at full capacity with a cool colour range, we are going to be able to see everything. this is another contributing factor to why the stage looks so empty; they’re lighting up everything and it exposes where the gaps are.

now i fully acknowledge that this possibly could have been a deliberate choice, since they do actually use some spot lighting at the beginning and end. however, if it was it did not land for me. 

i loved the intro of demon felix done in blue, that was a nice switchup from what we would usually see, but i wish there was more of a coherent colour arc. like the narrative it stutters around a bit.

sound

the arrangement was a miss for me. i found it a bit dissonant again, like their last stage, since the original i'll be your man has obvious lyrics about a good christian boy being sad about a girl. this gets a bit wonky conceptually as soon as you add a child self into it. i don’t know if they changed any of the lyrics in the singing to match this a little more because i don't speak korean, so i'll have to wait for episode subs for verification. 

i really applaud them for trying, and overall they didn't actually do that bad, but skz is not a vocal group. the most i'm going to say about it is that these boys don’t have the breath support. this is likely because they're trying to do choreographically complex movements, but also it's a training thing. you can hear the difference even just between eunkwang’s ‘vocal warmup’ at the beginning of back door, he’s not projecting full voice but he still has the breath support for his voice to sound full, whereas all skz boys sound thin in comparison, even when at full volume, because they’re trying to project from the throat and not the chest. that's all i'm gonna say about that. i don't think the cracked note was bad, i didn’t really clock it on first listen.

staging

thematically they could have had something really interesting here if they stuck to a more simple narrative arc. the genesis (i’m very funny) of the idea here is good, the whole mephistopheles deal with a devil + regret/loss of innocence is clear, but the arc isn't really an arc, and the colour story doesn't help. it kind of goes earth (green/blue) -> the gates of hell are opening (red) -> oh it's heaven now (blue) -> oh just kidding it's hell/lets destroy heaven (red) -> back to earth (blue). not necessarily a bad arc, just a bit complex for four minutes.

the choreo was a lot better this time, there was a lot more intention and relevance to theme and i didn’t feel like they were flailing for the sake of flailing as much as i have in their other stages. there was also a clarity in the overall blocking and movement patterns that was missing from their other stages. this stage has a really great handoff of each member playing the ‘main’ character, especially in the beginning. i especially liked the cut from falling off the stairs to laying centre stage. 

i think I’m right in assuming that it was a choice that the members were all playing the same character and demon felix was that character possessed rather than the actual devil, but personally i think it would have been a lot more fun if they had straight up just made him be the actual devil. there’s a bit of dissonance when you have a performer with such a specialized skillset that gets used in very specific instances, but then he shows up in the regular group choreo like any ol’ guy. they always put such emphasis on felix (as they should, he’s their most charismatic performer), but they never go the distance. i would have loved it if they had committed to the bit like TOO did in their magnolia stage from rtk, where they had a member just be blinded justice. that was literally the only thing he did and it worked so well. could have done the same here with felix and it would have been fun. that being said the felix parts were SO good. love love love him getting dragging in chains.

 btob

this hit every little one of the buttons in my tiny backstage crew brain. i'm in love with this stage. there’s so many true to life little details here that on repeat viewings you're still finding new things. i know i rag on and on about narrative every week but here is a good example of what i've been trying to get at this whole time: the stage needs a shape. an a to b. you don't need a whole pirates spiel or a game of thrones theme extended universe; all you need is a clear setting and a point a to point b. this stage has both those things perfectly. we have a hyperspecific setting, (american rockstars) and a basic arc (getting ready to perform -> performing). even though back door is outside of btob’s wheelhouse, they spun it in a way that played to their strengths and did a bit braggadocio, which is rightfully earned. i'm gonna be saying it every time but the experience shows!!!

 costume

good contemporary costume is SO difficult, i want to impress that here. because it's the the time period that we are currently living and seeing every day it's so easy for the audience to spot mistakes. although yes it's easier to source/shop for, to get it good enough that it doesn't pull people out of the immersion is surprisingly more difficult than you think. their stylists did an excellent job here. the backup dancers and btob are all in monochrome plus one and it adds a very clean unity to everything without visual clutter.

each of btob’s costumes have enough to give indication of character, along with the member’s acting, which i'll get more into in the staging section. regardless, never underestimate the power of a good fitting shirt and statement belt. oh and minhyuk in the stirrup motorcycle boots with the skinny jeans and the supreme boxers and the red satin robe? good bye.

i love love love a dyed buzz this was such a good aesthetic choice for peniel, 10/10 i have no complaints about the costumes.

set

oh my god i’m gonna french kiss this set designer. this is such a simple set but it’s executed so well. there’s the ‘backstage’ area, the corridor with four dressing rooms, and then the ‘stage’ that’s pretty much just velvet ropes. so simple, but all the detail is in the set decoration and props. the road cases, the monitor, the subtle flex of the posters of them on the walls, the clothing racks, all the booze. although this is not the actual layout of any theatre (they're normally much weirder than this), there’s so many little details here that really make the experience.

there’s a very straightforward path here and it works so well. i think this might be the best use of the gates so far? it appropriately suited the drama of the moment and they didn't have to do anything to them because they're already in a theatre. bada bing bada boom.

lighting

love the setup and continuation through the amber ‘BRRRMM.’ like with sf9 it gives a smooth transition into the stage. also loved no blackout. it's a general rule in current theatrical practice that you only use blackouts when they are absolutely necessary, because they can stop the pacing of a play dead in the water. so the lack of one here at the start of the stage was a really smart choice and makes the transition feel less jarring.

i will say that actual backstage areas are very rarely lit with amber because it travels far and it's bright. it's much more common to see running lights (the lights on during a performance) to be deep red or blue.

those blasting wash lights as the gates open? the DRAMA. such a seemingly innocuous choice that really cements the atmosphere of ‘we are about to perform.’

really smart use of the projections to accentuate the already existing stage facilities. it's pretty much unnoticable because it's very well done but i appreciate it.

sound

this ARRANGEMENT!!!! it's so good!!! back door has this premise essentially built into the song so it was so smart of them to put this gimmicky spin on it. loved the literal interpretation of the knocks into the structure of the stage, it makes the blend between the sound design and the staging that much more effective.

more rock versions of everything please and thank you. 

btob is just stunting at this point and i love it. i'll have to wait for subs but judging by the hands in front of the camera bit and the ‘your super high note’ i’m pretty confident the added rap lyrics are full of shots at the other groups and honestly? valid.

staging

there's some really sharp camera control here with the one take first half. It’s up very close and personal because there’s a lack of space but it really works for the ‘intimacy’ of seeing backstage at a venue. also this is such a simple movement track but it’s so effective. it backs over a couple spots but it doesn't feel repetitive because there’s a sense of urgency and drive.

there are so many good little details in here that are true to life and unnecessary to include but sell the performance as a whole. peniel flinging water onstage, minhyuk stripping down twice and flinging his clothes around, minhyuk closing the door on the standby’s face, the backup dancer as a dresser with the laundry basket, peniel stealing the hat off her but then not going on stage with it these are all things that I’ve either had directly happen to me or something very similar has happened. but the best one and the one that sets off the tone amazingly for the whole stage is eunkwang’s intro. that ‘vocal warmup’ with the quiet okay at the end? with the little jump? i see that moment of vulnerability before the transition between person and actor every time i watch someone go onstage for the first time and there’s no way to describe it other than magic. 

the luxury of only having four members, there was actually time in this stage to establish character. it also speaks to the performing strength of btob that they can establish clear character in this short amount of time. obviously it’s pretty one dimensional; there’s serious eunkwang, typical rocker minhyuk, fuckboy peniel (how many licks does it take to make your tootsie pop, anyone?), and comedian changsub. i’ve seen and met and worked with these exact dudes many, many times. ugh i love this stage

 ateez

the utter euphoria i felt at the proof that last round’s stage wasn't a fluke. this stage is so good. it's so good. i'm obsessed with how good this stage. as an unreformed pop punk teen who played a LOT of latin jazz i am LIVING. if you’ve only seen the episode cut and not the full version here i'll make it easy and link it for you because oh my GOD mnet destroyed the pacing by cutting in a full minute and a half of reaction shots. actually mnet fucked up the pacing for all of these stages but this one was the worst. and look. i know this is the closest these boys are going to get to being real punks and this is a carefully curated and artificial facade for narrative purposes only but oh the pandering tastes so sweet. regardless of that, i am IN AWE of the level of storytelling happening here. the narrative is so clear on just the first viewing even though there is so much going on and they use every possible element they can to further enhance that narrative. repeat viewings just add more and more little details. i’ll probably miss some things because there's so much but i'll try my best.

 costume

look, hanya and i were joking that my notes for this stage were just gonna be ‘san dog collar’ for a thousand words and i was so tempted to just leave it at that because.....woof. so here is a short list of things i am the most obsessed with:

san dog collar

san smeared lipstick

wooyoung cruella deville ponytail

hongjoong terrible blond crewcut

san crushed velvet cargo pants?!

seonghwa cropped fur jacket

yunho arm sleeve

hongjoong sockless in red derbys

but in all seriousness the costumes are so good. none of these are truly authentic punk looks but they capture the spirit right and that's what matters. all the right trappings are there; safety pins, patches, plaid, leather, and a lot of diy type looks. i love the painted masks, especially as a callback to the comedy/tragedy theatre masks. it was a thematic choice to have the backup dancers in black and the tac vests are a super simple contextual device.

also hongjoong’s quickchange hat/jacket combo is super fun and i hope that’s intentionally a preview of the next stage.

set

if you weren't convinced before that whoever is designing the ateez stages is a stage designer, i don't know what to tell you. it's hard to tell because there is so much environmental storytelling happening, but there is NO large scale set here. like with their last stage, kq smartly put money into two highlight pieces; the anarchist blimp and the van/wall, and the rest of the stage atmosphere is established solely through propwork and lighting. just think about that for a bit. every other group has some kind of large scale room or wall build. ateez has a bunch of tables, flyers, and a podium. i don’t know if i can accurately communicate just how difficult this kind of coordination is to pull off but holy fucking shit this is so hard to pull off. these are theatre people i see you and i see your work and i love you!!!

they fully used the gilt mnet stage as their pseudo government building and it works. everything about this (lack of) set is so smart i wish i could be more articulate about it but there’s so only so many ways i can say the same thing over and over again. 

lighting

the laser scopes. the LASER SCOPES!!! god this lighting designer is so good. whoever you are, i'm acknowledging your effort because you deserve it. there’s some really wonderful contrast and directional lighting: the van light, the pinlights/lasers/smoke as searchlights. a lot of atmospheric red lighting but it makes sense for the theme (alarm lights) and they offset it well (unlike in the other two predominantly red stages we’ve seen) by fill lighting the faces with blue or amber; this is what actually makes us able to see what’s happening on stage

the projections are used to augment the stage action in without being overpowering, they're at relatively low tonal value so they aren't lighting up the stage at full brightness like in the skz stage. 

the big brother eye on the tv screens (it's just a projection, not actual screens) combined with the government ban notice and the broadcast has to be the record for fastest visual explanation of fascist totalitarian state. 

sound

i love it. they really successfully made rhythm ta into an ateez song and it’s cool as fuck. i love that it isn't sonically very loud. a lot of the chorus is actually quite level tone and quiet, which is a bold choice and they pull it off. this is very comfortably in their range (excluding jongho) and they went more for style than range and that's exactly what every group should be doing. singing high does not equal singing good. yes i am looking at you jongho you should have stopped at that penultimate note, it was fine!!

using rhythm ta as a pseudo protest song against a fascist government that’s banned all music and art? galaxy brain. that intro of hongjoong whispering “hey hey hey hey, this is just a song so get on the rhythm” after gunning down military police/guards? king fucking shit.

staging

i will eat all five pairs of my fluevog boots if kq hasn't hired a bunch of theatre professionals to direct and design these stages because now it's been proven that last stage wasn't a fluke. the level of execution at work here is absolutely incredible. oh the gesamtkunstwerk of it all!!!  there is SO much happening so quickly in this four minute stage and it still manages to convey exactly the correct amount of information that it needs to on the first go round, and it only gets better on repeat viewings.

they use a really classic theatre perspective trick with san climbing the rope, and they absolutely didn’t have to do that. san probably could have actually climbed that himself, but here they made a choice for aesthetic artistry over tricking/other feats of skills we’ve seen the 4th gen groups do. instead of going with the more technically difficult and ‘impressive’ option, they chose the simple way that allows for more character to shine through. there’s actually very little tricking in this stage as whole, they're putting trust in the design of the stage and the raw performance abilities of the members to carry the stage and they stick the landing again. san has some breakdancing and so do the backup dancers, but it’s window dressing in the same way that the flyers are window dressing.

there’s a lot of really good little moments of acting that really sell the performance and dedication of the group as a whole to giving their all. hongjoong overall in his cocky aspirational leader role, seonghwa’s first verse and malfunctioning earpiece bit, san’s falsetto hostage interrogation bit. also i'm obsessed with how far yunho just hucks that mask. he gets like fifteen feet of air with that thing. also props to hongjoong barehanding that glass break.

the paper props are impeccable. the first notice sets up the situation right away, and then we get some further exposition with the newspaper wooyoung is holding (which says ‘the central government has defined the black pirates as a terrorist’ but honestly you don't really need to know what it says to get the point), and then we have raining anarchist flyers from the anarchist blimp. great atmospheric touches.

the blackout crash-to-mask transition is just so good. this is an example of a good use of a blackout. nothing else to add i just thought i would point it out because it's dope.

like with btob there's some really tight camera control here, that along with the lighting and the way they've laid out the space make it easy to follow the trajectory of where they're going and also make the space seem smaller than it is. this is a really big stage and if you don't control how you want it to be seen you end up like with what happened to the first part of skz’s stage. i wish they had tracked some of the one takes a bit better, but the end of that take where the camera followed the group movement laterally and then the formation swung around to face front? sexy. surprisingly the editing is pretty ok.

there’s probably still so much i could talk about but this is already so long so if i missed something just let me know.

ok finally lets do some rankings

personal ranking

this round wasn't as tough to rank because there were two clear top tier stages for me. i actually went back and looked at my ranking from last round and this is identical except the top two spots are switched, which i find extremely funny. however in contrast to last round, these stages were all leagues better than their predecessors. all the groups are improving, just some at greater speed than others.

ateez - i'm not even gonna explain this one.

btob - i won't explain this one either since i just did that.

sf9 - this would have been first if ateez and btob hadnt blow everyone out of the water.i still think they made all the right choices and played to their strengths.

ikon - this stage is so fun to watch but the others offer me more. that’s it.

skz - i like the idea behind it and i loved felix; i'm always down for some good catholic fuckery but like last round it just wasn't played out far enough.

tbz - double ding on the moulin rouge and the continued game of thrones references for me. there were a lot of strong elements here but when compared to every other stage it just doesn't have the same gravitas.

the self rankings i thought were fairly accurate, but again, what the fuck is up with these expert rankings? who are these experts? what stages are they watching?? i won't go more into it than that because then you'll be here even longer but i don't trust these experts who consistently rank btob at the bottom, do you have eyes??? ears????

 ok i'm done for real now im so sorry this 4.6k words......if you make it this far do something nice for yourself like eat a cookie or something. this is way too long you deserve a reward for making it through my nonsense. as always if you’ve got questions or want to share your opinions feel free to send me an ask!

[empyreanwritings]

A Different Side to You

Pairing: Angel!Sam Wilson x Demon!Reader

Word Count: 7k (yall this is my longest fic that isn’t a series, i’m crying)

Warnings: definitely some blasphemous talk, blood and gore, mentions of sacrifices, language

Summary: You like to get under Sam’s skin because he makes it easy, but he doesn’t realize just how far you’ll really go to make sure he’s safe.

A/N: Hello friends! This is my submission for @buckysknifecollection​ writing challenge, congrats again on reaching 3k bby cause you deserve every follower and more! My prompt was Flirting in Inappropriate Places, and I tried to be as interesting with it as I could asdlkfjd ! Please let me know what y’all think! I crave attention xx

Divider by @whimsicalrogers​ - check them out bc their edits are amazing x

"Do you pray, or is that kind of redundant given your direct line to the big man?"

Sam refused to look over at the intruder. It was bad enough you felt the need to bother him with your presence again but to do it in a church? He feared if he looked over at you, he'd throw the hymnal straight at your thick skull. That kind of behavior was unbecoming for God's favorite, and he knew better than to test his father's patience - even if you tested his own daily.

You sighed dramatically, and he heard the familiar click of your heels as you walked down the center aisle. You traced your finger against the armrest of the pews; your nails dipped in black paint occasionally leaving a small scratch on them. The wood was old and soft, it was easy to leave marks behind, and it made you smile knowing they wouldn't be able to buff it out without ruining the wood altogether. A church marked by a demon. How sad.

For the last year, you brought it upon yourself to cause trouble to Sam. Nat told you not to bother with him; she knew her father would protect him at all costs, but you couldn't stop yourself. There was something about Sam that made every part of your body feel hot - and not in the Hellfire kind of way. Maybe it was his strong will or those arms. Either way, you enjoyed bugging him because you knew you'd make him crack eventually.

It was too hard to resist you, ask any man or woman who was allowed to live after a nightly encounter with you.

"I have to say," you leaned against the pew directly in front of Sam and crossed your arms over your chest, "Orange really is your color, Sammy. I don't think I've ever seen you look so delicious before."

"Can you not flirt with me in a house of worship? It's bad enough that you are here," he hissed. "Do not disrespect my father by flirting with me as well."

"Touchy, touchy. I can see I've struck a nerve, so I'll tell you why I'm here."

Sam's brows raised, and for once, he seemed intrigued by what you had to say. "Oh? It's not to bother me?"

Part of your visit was to bother him, you couldn't deny that, but it was mostly a professional visit. Nat needed to return to Hell and deal with a few demons who were stirring up trouble. The longer Nat stayed on Earth, the more restless they became down below. Some of them even went as far as to say Nat was no longer their queen and wanted to overthrow her. And, of course, she couldn't let that happen, so she left you in charge of any earthly factions trying to rise up while she went down to control the chaos. You hated being left behind, but the company wasn't terrible.

The only way you could really get the demons on Earth under control was if you had Lilith's knife. It was the only knife capable of truly killing a demon, not just send them back to Hell to crawl their way out again. After the war between the angels and demons, the angels took the knife and hid it so no being could ever wield its power again, and you knew Sam was there when Steve hid it.

You suggested a trade: Sam loaned you Lilith's knife in exchange for one of your Souls. No one would ever be willing to give up a soul they took in a deal, but if it meant you'd get your hands on the knife, you would do it.

"Are you out of your mind?" Sam roared, his cool exterior finally cracking at your audacity to ask something of him. "You really think I am going to hand over Lilith's knife to you? You know very well that knife doesn't just kill demons, Y/N."

"I would never use it on you, you drama queen." You paused, and a wicked smile spread across your face. "Unless you asked me to, of course."

He scoffed. You felt the disgust rolling off him, and you tried not to be annoyed that the sheer thought of being with you made him feel sick. You weren't looking for him to love you, or anything like that, but he didn't have to act like sleeping with you was so terrible. It wasn't as if you could get any sort of disease - perks of being a demon, after all.

"I am not giving you the knife, so you might as well leave."

"I can wait," you purred and left your spot on the pew to explore the sanctuary. You knew it would bother Sam if you stayed any longer, so you were going to milk your time there.

The church was one of the oldest in the city. You never fully understood the separate denominations of the church, but you noticed Baptists put less work into their churches than others. The pews were old, the fabric on them was a faded green that was torn in some spots. The white walls were slightly yellowed and peeling in the corners, but you only noticed if you focused long enough. It helped that the lights, which you could see dust hanging from the top of them, were dimmed. The blue carpet on the stage was the only thing that seemed new, and even that didn't seem to be in the best condition.

You walked over to the podium, and from the corner of your eye, you could see Sam tense up. You smirked and continued on. A worn bible sat on top of it; there were tabs sticking out the side, marking several pages for future sermons, you assumed. You grabbed the end of one and flipped it to the marked page, running your fingers across the lines.

You opened your mouth to start reading, but Sam appeared in front of you almost instantly. He slammed the bible closed, barely giving you time to yank your hand back. He knew exactly what you were doing, and he refused to let you speak the words of his father.

Touchy, touchy, you thought.

Sam grabbed your elbow to escort you out, but you whirled around and faced him head on. You pressed your chest against his; you were so close, your nose brushed the tip of his. He hated being this close to you, but he made no sign of backing down. God's favorite was one of the proudest as well. A deadly sin, you chose to remind him.

He watched your eyes flick down to his lips and back to his eyes in a matter of seconds. It happened so quickly, he thought he imagined it, but he knew better. You were shameless.

"I guess I'll get going now, Sammy," you hummed as you trailed your finger down his chest. "Please wear this sweater the next time I see you. Like I said, orange is your color."

You disappeared without another word, and the breath escaped Sam's lips in a cough. Well, it was less of a cough, and more of a strangled gasp. You really had a way of getting under his skin, and he hated admitting that to himself.

He knew one thing was certain, he couldn't let you get Lilith's knife. No matter your intentions.

"What are they doing?"

You jumped at the sound of Sam's voice, thinking you were caught by one of the people you spied on, but instantly relaxed when you saw him standing behind you. You glanced back at the scene in front of you - an altar with fake skulls the group probably bought at Michael's, red fabric thrown carelessly around everything, and three men in black cloaks mumbling to themselves about Lucifer. A woman was tied to the table directly in the middle. She squirmed and screamed for someone to help her, but no one was around these parts for miles, and the group knew it. It was why they picked this spot in the first place.

"Virgin sacrifice," you grumbled. "I could smell the stench of goat's blood miles away, so I popped in to see what they were doing."

"You can't just let them-"

"Relax, Sammy. I'm going to stop them. I actually hate human sacrifices." You turned around and smiled wide when you looked over at Sam. His brows furrowed, confused by your sudden change in mood, but when your eyes looked down at his shirt, he knew what you were about to say. "You're wearing orange."

He rolled his eyes. "I had nothing else to wear."

"You're wearing orange because I said you looked good in it, aren't you? Don't be embarrassed, Sammy, you look absolutely-"

"Don't you have a virgin sacrifice to interrupt?"

Your mouth formed an 'o' as if you just remembered why you were here. You told him to wait one moment before you disappeared behind the red fabric.

Screams filled the abandoned warehouse, but they didn't belong to the woman. The stench of blood and mutilated flesh hung in the air around Sam. It was a smell he was sure you were used to, but he almost lost his lunch thanks to it. When the screaming stopped, Sam thought the worst of it was over until he heard one of the boys beg for their lives. A wretched sob and a plea to be better interrupted by the sound of him choking on his own blood.

You escorted the woman out quietly. The poor thing trembled in your arms, yet it seemed you weren't the thing she was terrified of. You may have been a demon, but the monsters were the men willing to sacrifice her in the name of someone who didn't want human sacrifices to begin with. Well, Nat only liked sacrifices if the one dying was wicked, but that was another story.

The woman thanked you, tears and snot streaming down her face as she clutched onto your torso. You grimaced but did not pull away. Human comfort wasn’t something you fully understood, but you knew she needed a good hug right now, so you let it slide.

"Is there anything I can do to repay you?" She sobbed.

Sam shook his head. He knew what you were about to say - she could offer her soul in exchange for helping her. Demons were all the same. They acted like what they did was for the benefit of others, but it always came at a price. A price the humans could barely afford. And just when he started to believe you did this out of whatever goodness you had in your heart, you were going to prove to him that you were just like every other demon.

"You owe me nothing." He sucked in a sharp breath. That wasn't what he was expecting at all. "Except…maybe don't go on dates with people you meet in cemeteries. This is New Orleans, you can meet better men at the bars."

She nodded and made her way out of the warehouse. You weren't worried about her spreading the tale of what happened today because she could be accused of murder if she did. No one would ever buy the tale that a demon swooped in and killed everyone just to save her. The witches of the French Quarter might, but they weren't lawyers who could bust her out of jail.

You noticed Sam staring at you and huffed. "What? Do you not approve of me killing those bastards?"

"No, I…" He trailed off for a moment, eyes wandering over every inch of your blood covered body.  He wasn't looking at you but trying to look through you and understand why you would do something like spare that woman's soul. "I don't understand why you didn't make a deal with that woman."

You shrugged. You felt no need to explain yourself to him.

"Wait, when you offered to exchange a soul for Lilith's knife, did you even have a soul to offer?"

"Several."

"Ones that aren't centuries old."

"Why does it matter how old they are? A soul is a soul, right?"

It hit Sam that you probably haven't made a deal since you first became a demon. There was a time where Nat required every demon to make deals with people, but even she grew bored of the lifestyle. Many demons continued making deals and ruining people's lives, but Sam wondered when you stopped - and why. You spent most of your days following him around just to bother him, which meant you didn't have much time to harvest souls of the innocent. So, why? Why did you stop, and why did you make it seem like it wasn't a big deal?

You turned away to avoid any questions he was inevitably going to throw at you. You walked around the body parts and looked through the trinkets they gathered for the sacrifice. It was a long shot, but you wanted to see if they got their hands on Lilith's knife. A small bubble of excitement burst in you when you saw a black dagger resting on the table, but you knew it wasn't the right one as soon as you touched it. No magic, no power. Just a boring kitchen knife dipped in paint.

He watched you look around in disappointment. Questions bombarded his mind, made him wonder what else he didn't know about you - what else he might have gotten wrong. You were still a demon, though, and he would never be able to look past that.

When your search turned up empty, you focused right back on Sam and the dark orange V-neck he wore. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he wore that shirt for you. And you knew it.

"So," you began with a smile, "I find it adorable that you are wearing more orange for me. Very fall…very romantic, if you ask me."

"I didn't wear it for you," he quipped. "I told you, I had nothing else to wear."

"Mhm, so you said. Well, if you don't like it, you could always just take it off. I wouldn't mind." You ran your finger along his exposed collarbone, and he quickly swatted at your hand.

"There is nothing sexy about you asking me to take off my shirt when it smells like blood."

You giggled, something that should have been adorable yet somehow sounded evil coming from your lips. "You'll get used to it after a while, but I'll let you change the subject for now. I know it's probably not good for God's favorite to be aroused at the idea of taking me on a sacrificial altar."

Sam deadpanned, and you practically howled out a laugh. He made it far too easy to get under his skin. As much as you would have liked for him to ravish you then and there, you were perfectly satisfied knowing you managed to annoy him. It was the second greatest pleasure in your life, next to torturing evil assholes who thought the world belonged to them.

You tried to turn the conversation back to Lilith's knife. You hoped that your display of mercy would make him willing to give up its location, but he stood his ground. He vowed to never let you see the knife, even if you did swear not to use it on the angels. The knife's power was too much for one to handle; he couldn't guarantee that after you used it on the rowdy demon faction, you wouldn't just turn around and use it on him or his brothers. Once the knife got a taste for blood, it always wanted more.

No matter what you told him about the threats of war in Hell and on Earth, he refused you. His stubbornness made your jaw clench, but you knew when to pick your battles. When the precious humans were in danger, he would be willing to give it up. Despite not wanting for it to get that bad, you knew it was the only way.

So, you'd wait, and until then, you'd drive him crazy with your flirtatious comments.

The next few days were…off, to say the least. You spent a lot of your time trying to get a feel for Sam's godly aura - something that had a distinct smell and feel to it most angels didn't even realize - but there was nothing. Every corner you turned, every chapel you visited, was hollow. Cold and empty, much like the feeling in your chest the longer you didn't see him. You knew it was possible he was just avoiding you, but you couldn't help but feel a little dreadful.

If something happened to Sam, you'd unleash Hell on earth. You would rip through every being you had to in order to get to him. The heavens haven't seen true bloodshed until you've put your mind to it, especially if you were going to avenge your non-existent lover.

But as you sat in one of Sam's favorite sanctuaries, you wondered if he had finally grown tired of your games. He was an angel after all, and you were nothing but a demon. Scum of the earth; knight of darkness and destruction. A small voice in the back of your head reminded you that you would never be any more to him. You looked around and realized, he might not have been missing at all, he may have just decided you were no longer worthy of his presence. You weren't sure which idea hurt more, and you didn't really want to take time to analyze it.

The funny thing about sadness is that it eats you from the inside. The harder you try to push it down, the more power you seem to give it. Even as you sat there, staring at the ethereal paintings on the ceiling, you couldn't stop the sadness from burning a hole into your heart. You closed your eyes and exhaled, feeling the heat from all the Bibles burning around you. And you smiled - not fully, but enough to push down the sadness once more.

"Where is my brother?" You opened your eyes and looked over at Steve, who went to work trying to put out the small fires you set. "For the love of dad, did you really have to burn the Bibles? You could have gone for the hymnals, at least!"

You hummed disinterestedly. "Why are you asking me about Sammy? I figured he went back to Heaven by now."

"He hasn't been home in months, but he usually checked in with me. I haven't heard from him in days now."

Okay, so maybe he was missing, and maybe you were too quick to start throwing yourself a pity party, but could anyone blame you? No one had to know you were willing to burn down a church simply because you thought Sam abandoned you.

"The last I saw Sam he was alive and well, I can promise you," you purred just to get under Steve's skin. "If I'm being honest, though, I haven't seen him since then. He usually pops up to scold me when I start trouble, and I did everything I could to get his attention! I even kicked a toddler, and he never came. I should have realized he could never get bored with me; obviously someone has taken him."

Steve blinked several times, trying his best to process your words. He didn't know where to start - the fact that you both tend to end up in each other's company willingly or that you would go so far as to kick a toddler to see him. He shook his head. How Sam managed to put up with your antics was beyond Steve. He always told his brother that a demon like you wasn't worth watching over, but Sam always had one excuse or another. Lately, he claimed it was to make sure you didn't find Lilith's knife, but even that excuse was flimsy at best.

He wanted to be in your company, and it baffled Steve most of all.

"I'm not going to touch any of that," he quickly shook his head and tried to push the disturbing thoughts out of his head. "Nat said there was rebellion going on in Hell. Do you think demons might have taken him to get under her skin?"

"I wouldn't put it past them, but I honestly think if the demon faction on Earth kidnapped him it's because they want Lilith's knife."

"And let me guess you want me to give it to you."

You nodded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "If demons are behind Sammy's disappearance, they need to be taken out. Lilith's knife can do that, and you know it!"

"You think I'm foolish enough to give a blade that can kill demons and angels to a psychotic demon with stabbing tendencies?" Steve scoffed. "You're off your rocker even more than usual."

A moment passed, and your passive façade finally cracked. You kicked Steve, full force against his abdomen, and sent him flying towards the altar. He caught himself before he landed on the podium, but he didn't have enough time to block your next blow to his side. You knew it was enough to knock the air from his lungs and catch him off guard, so you quickly grabbed his throat and forced him to his knees. His angel strength usually made him an even match, but your rage was the one thing fueling you. It was too much for him to fight off.

You squeezed until he was gasping for air and slapping at your hands. His eyes grew wide when he looked up at you and realized you were in full demon form - eyes black, teeth pointed behind your sinister snarl, and your skin slowly flaking off and turning to ash. He had never seen you like this, and for once, he feared his life despite knowing you couldn't really kill him.

You leaned in close, letting him get a good whiff of the rotted flesh and brimstone. "Let me make something very clear, Michael, you will give me that knife because the longer you wait, the more danger my Sammy may be in. And if he gets hurt, I will tear the world apart until it rains blood for eternity. You and your daddy will have nothing to protect anymore, do you understand me?"

Steve shuddered as you dropped him to the floor. The use of his real name never brought a chill down his spine until it came from your lips. He knew, somewhere deep inside of him, that you no longer wanted the knife for yourself; you wanted it to end those who dared to take Sam away from you.

Realization dawned on him in that moment. You loved him. It was something he never knew a demon could be capable of, but your protectiveness…your anger…it all made sense now. You wouldn't let anything happen to Sam, and he knew giving you the knife wouldn't be the worst idea. The other angels might frown upon it, but they wouldn't question Steve's judgement. He'd make them understand why he had to, and why you were somehow the most trustworthy person to take it.

"I'll get you the knife," he gasped. "You find out where my brother is, and I will meet you there with the knife."

You slowly turned back into your "presentable" self at his words. The relief that you wouldn't have to torture the information out of Steve flooded you. Sam would be incredibly unhappy if he knew you hurt his family, even if it was a little deserved.

"I can find out within the hour, I have someone who owes me a few favors," you replied. "Keep an eye out for my text. I'll give you the coordinates on where to find me once I know."

Without another word, you disappeared, off to cause trouble wherever you needed to. Steve stood there, hands dropped at his side and a deep sigh escaping his lips. There was one problem to your plan: he didn't have a phone.

The moon just started to rise when you stepped through the dilapidated gates of the cemetery. Fog clung to the ground, making everything damp and humid. Bits of leaves stuck to the bottom of your boots as you walked, but you didn't care. You just wanted to get to Sam.

You felt in your element, oddly enough. Surrounded by darkness, Lilith's knife grasped tightly in your hand. You knew the night would end in a blood bath. The demons weren't going to let Sam go willingly, and you mentally prepared yourself for what he was about to witness. If you lost control, even for a split second, your true form would come out again. You knew he would never love you anyways, but once he got a real look at you, whatever tiny amount of hope you clung onto would be squashed.

None of it mattered, though. You only cared for Sam's safety.

The faction waited for you in one of the larger mausoleums. They almost seemed too relaxed as you walked in, as if the party couldn't start until you arrived. You glanced over and saw Sam bound, gagged, and tossed in the corner. You forced yourself to take a deep breath and not let the rage consume you over the sight of him.

Mystique, the leader of the faction, casually hopped down from the top of the stone casket and made her way to you. Her movements reminded you of a lioness, calm and in control as she stalked closer to her prey. She wasn't scared of you, and that was the one thing you were hoping for; you wanted her to underestimate just how cruel you could be.

She walked around you in circles, taking in your presence with a hungry grin on her face. Her eyes lingered on Lilith's knife longer than anywhere else, but she made no advances to take it from you.

"I see you brought the knife," she practically purred in delight. "I'm surprised the angels were so willing to hand it over, but I see kidnapping one of their own was the best way to get their attention."

"You weren't just trying to get their attention," you replied calmly. "You were trying to get mine as well."

"Well, I did have a feeling taking your lover boy would get you here."

You refused to look back at Sam, even though you wanted to. You had to lie your way out of her trap, and you wouldn't be able to contain yourself if you made eye contact with him in this moment. And you wouldn't be able to hide any of your emotions from Mystique.

"He means nothing to me. He was just a means to get Lilith's knife."

As the words left your mouth, your chest started to ache. You silently prayed - something you never thought you could bring yourself to do - that Sam wouldn't believe your words. Whether he ever planned on loving you back or not, you didn't want him to think you only saw him as a means to an end. If he never gave you the knife, you wouldn't have cared because you got to spend time with him. That was more than enough for you.

"For a demon, you're a terrible liar," Mystique sneered. "I've been watching you two. I know the truth, and honestly? I feel a little sad for you, Y/N."

Your lips formed a tight line, and you took a slow breath through your nose. "Why is that?"

"Because you're dumb enough to think he'll fall for you one day. Do you not see the heartbreak you're setting yourself up for? An angel will never see you as anything but the perverted failure of his father, and you are dumb enough to think he could ever see you as anything else." Her words cut into you, and you had nothing to retort. She was right; you came to terms with this before you ever step foot into his life. You weren't meant to fall for him and yet…you did. You tricked yourself. "Even Nat believes she is better than us, it's why we needed to take action! Can't you see? We're your family. We're able to give you what these angels never could - power and belonging. I know you crave both despite all your past protests."

She wrapped her arm around your shoulders and forced you to look at Sam. Her lips were next to your ear, and though you couldn't see it, you knew she was smirking. "All you have to do is kill him. Kill Gabriel and we'll accept you into our group. I can be a fair better leader than Nat ever could."

Sam's eyes grew wide as you stalked towards him. Mystique's words ran through your mind on a constant loop. He would never see you as anything other than a demon; he would never be able to love you the way you so desperately desired. The longer you stared at him, the easier it was to come to terms with that. But it didn't mean he deserved to die.

"There is one thing I think you are forgetting in all of this," you finally said, turning your back on Sam to face Mystique.

"And what is that, my dear?"

You shoved the knife through her throat, ignoring the spray of blood hitting your face. The other demons stood, ready to attack, but they faltered when they realized no one was going to give them an order. Mystique was too busy choking on her own blood.

Just before the light faded from her eyes, you leaned in close and whispered, "You get on my last fucking nerve."

You pulled the knife out and let her body drop to the ground. She was gone for good this time. Wherever the beings went when they were killed with Lilith's knife, you knew it wasn't Hell; she would never be able to crawl her way back to Earth and cause more trouble.

The other demons stood in shock as you stepped over her body. They didn't want to fight in you in fear of losing their own lives, but as you flipped the knife in your hand, they knew they had no choice. You weren't going to let any of them walk out of there alive. They started too much trouble for you and for Nat. This was your way of tying up loose ends.

You gave them props for putting up a good enough fight. They weren't coordinated without Mystique telling them what to do, but they tried their best. Even when bodies started to drop, and the smell of blood lingered heavily in the air, they fought tooth and nail to get away from you. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough. Not a single demon stepped through the mausoleum doors alive. Well, besides you of course, but that was kind of obvious.

Once everyone was taken care of, you made your way over to Sam. You looked him over several times, and a pout began to form on your lips.

"You're not wearing orange today!" You whined as you pulled the rag from his mouth. "I thought we agreed you'd wear orange the rest of your life for me."

He let out an exasperated breath. "You're insane, you know that?"

"Well I heard-"

"If quote Alice in Wonderland and tell me all the best people are crazy, I'm going to shoot you," Sam grumbled, kicking away the ropes from his ankles in a hurry.

You beamed over at him. It was the kind of smile that made you look unhinged, and the blood spattered on your cheeks didn't help. "Ooh, gunplay? Sounds kinky, I'm in! But I'm pretty sure you don't even know how to work a gun, so I'll have to teach you."

"Please don't."

Sam took your hand and allowed you to help him stand. He had been tied up for days, and he caught himself using the wall to keep himself from tipping over again as the blood started to rush to his limbs again. He noticed how you stayed close enough to catch him if he fell over but kept your distance to give him some space. You assumed he needed a break from being surrounded by demons, and you weren't entirely wrong. He just didn't include you in the list of demons he wanted to stay away from.

You quietly let him pull himself together and got to work on piling the demons' bodies on top of each other. Not many groundskeepers entered mausoleums, but you didn't want to risk anyone finding them. You made a mental note to return with some lighter fluid and take care of the remains before the sun rose. It wouldn't please Nat to know you left bodies out in the open for anyone to find.

Sam tried to shift his weight onto one foot, and he grunted in surprise when a sharp pain shot through his ankle. You were by his side instantly, using your shoulder support most of his weight.

"Are you okay?" You asked, searching his face for any signs of discomfort.

He nodded. "I'm not sure how, but I think they might have broken my ankle. It should heal soon, though."

"Let's get you to a safe place to rest. I need to get the knife back to Steve, and we don't really need any other demons stumbling on your injured self."

"You're actually giving the knife back?" His surprise made you wince. You told him the only thing you needed the knife for was the get the demon faction under control, but he never believed you.

Because you're a demon, your thoughts reminded you.

"I told you I only needed the knife for one thing Sammy," you huffed and helped him step out into the cemetery. "I would never lie to you."

Sam said nothing, but he quietly examined the side of your face as you walked together. He wasn't sure what he felt in that moment besides confusion. Deep down, he already knew you weren't one to lie to him, but he didn't understand why. Why you went to great lengths just to save him. Why you hated virgin sacrifices and didn't take souls. Why you spent most of your time around him when you could have been doing anything else. You were supposed to be a typical demon consumed by a lust for blood, sex, and souls, yet you had proven time and time again that you were far from his expectation.

He wondered if Mystique had been right - were you in love in with him? The thought of you being in love with him made him question everything he thought he already knew.

He couldn't bring himself to understand why he liked the way you flirted him, or why he wore orange just to see you smile. He easily could have gone back to Heaven by now, but he always found an excuse to stay. To see you.

As you escorted him through the gates and far away from the stench of blood, he sucked in a sharp breath. Perhaps Mystique wasn't right about everything. She claimed Sam could never see you as anything but a demon, but as he looked up at you now, that was the last thing on his mind. All he saw was the woman he finally admitted to himself he was in love with.

You slipped into the pew beside Sam, who had fully recovered from last night's incident. You were exhausted after spending your night burning bodies and tracking down Steve to return the knife. Even he seemed surprised you gave it up willingly, but you didn't bother to banter with him about it. You were tired of the angels always thinking the worst of you.

You leaned your head against Sam's shoulder, half-expecting him to pull away in disgust, but he didn't. He sat there in silence as you closed your eyes and let yourself relax for a few moments.

The silence between you two wasn't uncomfortable. Both of you felt like you had been to Hell and back, and not much needed to be said about that. You were still covered in blood, and your clothes reeked of burnt flesh. Sam, who was fully healed, rubbed at his wrists to try and get the phantom feeling of the rope away. You almost made a joke about how a fucked up demon sat next to an equally fucked up angel, but the humor died on your tongue before you could get it out. It was just too much effort.

Sam sighed and pressed his cheek against the top of your head. "She was wrong, you know."

"About what?" You murmured so softly, you weren't sure you spoke out loud.

"About my feelings for you."

You sat up and groaned, feeling all of your muscles groan along with you. "Don't tease me, Sam. It actually hurts my feeling for you to lie to me like this."

"I'm not lying!"

"Sure, you're not."

He grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him. The sincerity in his eyes made your stomach churn. You knew how this played out because he wasn't supposed to love you; he wasn't supposed to see you as anything but a demon. Not a single celestial being would ever approve of him falling in love with you, and you would never be able to find peace.

"Listen to me," he began with a small, hopeful smile, "I love you. Do I fully understand it? Absolutely not. You're crazy, and I'm pretty sure you kill pedophiles for breakfast. You also willingly kick toddlers, which I don't approve but…I love you."

"No one will approve us being together, you know," you whispered as if someone was already listening in on you. "Not God, not Nat, not Steve. They'll always have something to say about us."

"Then let's get out of here for a bit."

"Where?"

"Anywhere you want to go." You quickly glanced to the side, and he rolled his eyes. "If you make another comment about that confessional booth, I will lose my mind."

You softly laughed and leaned in ever so slightly. You were officially invading his space, but you weren't making the first move yet. You wanted to give him one last chance to change his mind, to come to his senses or whatever it was he needed to do, before he turned his back on everything he knew just to be with you. Would it hurt? Absolutely. But you needed to know that this was going to last between you two. You weren't sure if you could live with the heartbreak of losing Sam.

"I think you've already lost your mind, Sammy," you teased. "You want to be with a demon after all."

He cupped your cheek in his hand, gently stroking your bottom lip with his thumb. It was an act so intimate, it almost caught you off guard. He stared at you silently before his lips finally met yours, and you nearly collapsed into his arms with how ecstatic you were to finally get a taste of him.

The kiss was hungry - full of teeth and breathless groans. You were exploring every inch of each other that you possibly could without tearing each other's clothes off. Sam practically came to life underneath you as his hands roamed up your side. Your name died on his lips - a prayer only you could hear. You thought about pulling back and reminding him that you were in the house of his father, but that would require you to stop kissing him, and you had no intention of stopping any time soon.

When he finally pulled away from, your chests were heaving, and you smiled over at him. He appreciated how gentle your smile seemed now. Even with the dried blood on your skin, there was a warmth in your eye that made your smile fill his chest with joy. A lot less unhinged, he would say.

"So," you pushed his back against the pew and crawled onto his lap, your knees straddling either side of his thighs, "You said we could go anywhere in the world, right?"

"Besides the confessional booth," he retorted with a smile as he caressed the side of your face.

You paused, trying to get used to him looking at you like you were the only woman in the universe. It felt odd but not entirely in a bad way. You spent most of your time denying he could ever look at you this way, and here he was, proving your doubts wrong. You weren't sure if it made you want to cry or kiss him until he caved and pulled you right into the confessional.

He claimed you wouldn't convince him, but you'd get him to crack one day.

"Besides the confessional booth," you laughed. "I spent a lot of time here, pestering you and scaring children in the cemetery. I think it'd be nice to get out of the country, explore the world a little bit."

"You haven't done that already?"

You shook your head. "I spent a lot of time staying close to Nat. She needed a strong right-hand woman, and I was the one who wanted to fill the job. I mean, Maria is great, but she's better at handling souls and all their pesky little contracts."  

"Where do you want to go then? We can go anywhere you want, and we can get there for free thanks to my wings."

"Can I convince you to give the confessional booth a whirl?"

Sam sighed dramatically, not in annoyance but enough to make you laugh. "Absolutely not."

"Fine," you pouted. "I guess we can start with Greece, as long as you agree to wear your orange v-neck again."

[deans-haunted-baby]

Curious. What do you mean by Dust till Dawn going against it's Characters? I know I have my own feelings, or confusion, with how they left Kate's story.

From Dusk Till Dawn effectively character assassinated every single character in the very last episode including Kate Fuller. No one is acting like themselves in that series finale it's like some deranged fanfic writer came aboard and hijacked the show while no one was looking. If you thought 15x18 & 15x19 of Supernatural were bad and believe me they really are; those episodes are minorly salvageable against the slaughterhouse that Dusk 3x10 was. It utterly contradicts and ignores everything the show put forward in all 3 seasons. I will never watch that episode again.

I'll first explain what that piece of shit did to the show's lead protagonists, the Gecko brothers. Regardless of how you or anyone else feels about Supernatural's series finale; that show was a saint to Sam and Dean's storyline beginning to end compared to how From Dusk Till Dawn definitively butchered Richie and Seth. I'm sad saying this because Zane Holtz and DJ Controna are outstanding as these characters. I freaking love their chemistry man, it's a great rival to J2! They're the badass dark clones of the Winchesters.  Their arc starts out fascinatingly complex because they went from cold-blooded criminals/bad guys and meanwhile during their escape over the Mexican border with this hostage family the audience is told pretty quick by Professor Aiden Tanner that the Geckos are destined to become these foresworn warriors The Mayan Hero Twins in an ancient prophecy (based on real Mesoamerican lore) who battle the Underworld. So right away the show is telling us ahead where Seth and Richie are suppose to end up in their journey and when you introduce a storyline this big I expect a satisfying payoff.

At the end of season 1, Richie Gecko is *SPOILER ALERT* transformed into a culebra (snake-vampire) while Seth Gecko remains human symbolizing their night and day Hero Twin counterparts from the legend. And they're separated in the first half of season 2 where both try to navigate this new supernatural world they've stumbled on individually. What they find, no different than the Winchesters, is that neither can function properly without the other making their destiny all the more valid. That season is practically constructed like their swan song to the criminal lifestyle since the brothers are meant to become more than crooks; and since Richie's a vampire they can't ever go back to basics. Their adopted father aka uncle Eddie actually says the line "this is my swan song" in 2x07 to Seth and Richie in reference to their final heist together which is not a coincidence. That's the writers telling us that the Gecko Brothers' role in the show is going to shift from anti-heroes to heroes very soon. Eddie and Kate Fuller's fates in S2 act as the primary catalysts for this transition taking shape in the finale.

Going into season 3 it's business as usual for the boys until the prophecy of the twins officially rips a hole in the damn universe via demon queen Amaru. Who's now possessing Kate. Throughout that season Seth and Richie embark on a journey of heroism; find themselves battling monsters, actually saving civilians and dealing with their own personal demons (guilt and remorse over past sins). That year is presented as their redemption arc and final phase into their new role. No one ever tells them about their destiny (despite most of the other characters knowing) but we as the audience are already aware as we watch the brothers in action. The best episode is without a doubt 3x06 the crown jewel of From Dusk Till Dawn because it's about overcoming the darkness inside. And who best represents that than Richie; the show's most important central character whom began the series as a deadly clairvoyant criminal into the tortured vampire hero struggling with his own humanity. Now I won't spoil the whole episode for anyone who hasn't seen it or the show in general but it's an incredible moment of character development for both the Gecko brothers. Not only does it cement their powerful bond it's the episode that defines who these two are once and for all. The ones who lead the battle between good and evil; keep the balance of light and darkness. One day I plan to do an entire analysis of that episode because it's so fucking brilliant and shot so incredibly eerie at the same time 😁

You want to know what 3x10 does to these characters? It shits all over their entire storyline and pisses away THREE FUCKING SEASONS of character development. Just flushes it all down the toilet rendering everything they've ever done up to that point completely pointless! Their destiny which is the WHOLE POINT OF THE SHOW is suddenly dropped last minute and the Geckos hit reset on their former criminal escapades; dragging Kate along with them. I hate that finale with the fire of a thousand suns for what it does to Richie and Seth 😡

Moving on to Carlos Madrigal. He is the best villain character in the history of show villains hands down. I can actually say that without blinking. Wilmer Valderama is phenomenal, he steals the show as Carlos. He's is so freaking awesome, evil and badass! I just want to keep seeing this man tear things apart while being the sexy asshole he is 😈For all intents and purposes I don't want to spoil his whole storyline on the show for those following me in case they're interested. But what I will say is 3x10 destroys this character; so don't watch it if you want to keep the memory of who he was alive. I'm actually depressed over what was done to him as much as I feel sorry for Wilmer having to perform that shitty script. It's laughable in a very bad way. Gotta hand it to the writers and showrunners of FDTD they certainly knew how to humiliate their best characters in this series. Carlos basically goes from charismatic yet lethal Hannibal Lecter to a very captain obvious Gandolf caricature. Yah you heard that right, it's really fucking sad.

Next we have Freddie Gonzalez; the audience's avatar into the series. This character is connected to everyone on the show for a reason because of the crucial part he plays in this universe. The "Peacekeeper" destined to police the line between the supernatural world from the human world. In the beginning he's a Texas deputy on a quest to avenge the murder of his father figure/partner Earl McGraw via the Gecko Brothers. But once he steps in that territory of monsters there's no going back. And FDTD repeatedly tells him and the audience this in the first 2 seasons. But then 3x10 pulls the ultimate fuckery by giving him the most cliched, nonsensical hallmark ending effectively cancelling out his entire purpose in the series. He instantly forgets that he ever cared about Kate, watching her bleed out on the ground, then leaves the Geckos high and dry rushing his family (who isn't injured) to the hospital. And he stays there while the battle continues 😣

Kate and Scott Fuller OMG words cannot describe my anger over what was done to them so I'll make it fast. I'll begin with Kate the bright light and heart of the series. Her arc in the first two seasons is excellent. It's emotionally driven because she begins as an ordinary girl in broken yet seemingly-happy family to a young woman finding her way around the supernatural world maintaining her faith and moral compos while trying to help her brother after he's *SPOILER ALERT* been turned into a vampire; paralleling the Geckos's situation. Scott being only a 16 year old kid, like Richie, struggles immensely after his transformation; searching for meaning as a cursed individual and coping with his duality. He was already different to begin with so being a vampire adds some interesting layers to his character.

Btw Kate plays a vital role in Richie and Seth's lives, though in my opinion is more strongly connected to Richie. The show even goes as far as developing the early glimpses of a romantic arc between Kate and Richie (seeing as they kiss twice) with angst at the end of season 2 that is never resolved. You want to know why it wasn't? Not only does season 3 mute Kate's voice and agency but 3x10 ruins her character and demolishes her whole arc with Richie (who spent all of season 3 trying to save her) at the last second due to fan pressure of those who shipped her with Seth. They don't exchange one word nor barely look at one another it's like seasons 1&2 never happened. This is the biggest fuck you to fans of these characters I've ever witnessed in a series and they did my boys Adam and Michael so dirty in Supernatural. Poor Scott whom the show enjoyed kicking around all season barely gets a thing to do in that series finale either than listening to his sister and Seth gab about prom lol. Yah you heard me I'm not making this shit up I swear. Then he gets abandoned by Kate while she goes off to be a bank robber with the character assassinated versions of Seth and Richie. How extraordinary 😖

Santanico Pandemonium is really the only character in the series who manages to get out unscathed. HOWEVER her arc is handled very poorly beginning to end. They set up an arc between her and Seth that also goes absolutely nowhere. Give her zero closure with Richie whom she sired, dated and used in S2. And randomly throw her in a scene with Kate that makes no fucking sense after these two had nothing to do with one another all series. On top of that Santanico is barely in season 3 so by the time the show wraps her arc feels incomplete.

Other characters go missing that no one notices, the new bad guy whom they've set up at the end is just left hanging. And Richie Gecko, you know the show’s other lead, is horribly sidelined after 3x06 to make way for the Seth Gecko solo show. When I say FDTD series finale is bad I mean it's really fucking terrible and blasphemous.

[accirax]

Obey Me Brothers as Virtues

Probably because of the angel outfit leak, I’ve seen a decent number of posts floating around lately talking about what the brothers would have been like in the Celestial Realm as angels of virtue. Most of those posts have equated the brothers with the virtue that’s the opposite of their current sin, and while those ideas are also great, I personally think that they’d fit better with different virtues. That way, the characters could still be recognizable as “themselves” as angels.

Keep in mind that these are just my headcanons, and that they’ll probably be destroyed by whatever event/lesson those outfits go with :,) Potential spoilers up to Lesson 21 because that’s as far as I’ve read.

PRIDE -> HUMILITY - Leviathan

Humility means having a low view of one’s own importance, and who does that fit better than the Avatar of Envy? This otaku is the third strongest of the brothers, the Grand Admiral of Hell’s Navy, AND an amazing gamer (three attributes of equal importance), and yet he still doesn’t understand why MC would even give him the time of day. I’m sure that Levi would have similarly belittled his own importance in the Celestial Realm as the Angel of Humility.

GREED -> CHARITY - Asmodeus

On the surface, this might not seem like the best fit. Asmo, the attention-seeking narcissist, being the Angel of Charity? But Asmo’s self-centered ways fit perfectly when you consider exactly what he’s being generous with-- himself. Asmo is always sharing every part of himself to the world: his time, his thoughts, and his body. As an angel, he could have inspired others to be charitable with their love, just as he shares his self-proclaimed wonderful qualities with everyone around him.

ENVY -> KINDNESS - Beelzebub

Come on. You know that Beel, resident cinnamon roll of the House of Lamentation, would have to be the angel that embodies kindness. He shows so much affection to all of his brothers, Belphie especially, and obviously towards MC as well. Even though he’s the Avatar of Gluttony, he still tries his best to make people happy by sharing his food with them when they’re sad. As the Angel of Kindness, his protective nature was probably a kind blessing for those who needed it. And his hugs. But those have probably stayed mostly the same.

WRATH -> PATIENCE - Mammon

Mammon? Patient? The demon who’s always breaking into your room, and clinging to you, and refusing to sit down and do his work? MAMMOOOOON?!? Impersonations of Lucifer aside, Mammon actually shows a great amount of patience all the time, considering how his brothers treat him. As in, they’re so mean to him. Constantly. And he just... takes it. As the second strongest brother, he could easily teach any of his brothers (besides Lucifer) a lesson the next time they mouth off against him. But he never does. And he’s never turned against MC either (I get the sense that this is true past 21), even when they're throwing themselves or spending time with someone other than him (blasphemous!). Plus, some of his Devilgram stories show that he’s willing to be very patient when it comes to a relationship. Mammon’s secret emotional strength shows the restraint that he could have embodied as the Angel of Patience.

LUST -> CHASTITY - Satan

Now, I know what you’re thinking. Are you saying that Satan isn’t ever lustful? And, no, I’m not. While any headcanons for the brothers’ sexualities are valid, textually I don’t think there’s any evidence to suggest that ANY of the brothers would be especially chaste. So, let’s think about this in a different way. Lust is often thought of as one’s primal urges. But, as the Avatar of Wrath, what are Satan’s primal urges? To be really, really angry, all the time. Thinking about chastity as suppressing one’s innermost urges makes Satan an easy fit for the title. He’s the master of concealing his innate impulses, the king of acting civil in public, the Lord of Masks. Of course, the other thing you may have been thinking up top was that Satan never was an angel, so whatever I assign him doesn’t really matter... 

Theoretically, I’d propose that in his place, Lilith could fill this spot. However, considering that her romance with a human is what sparked the Great Celestial War, I think she might not be the best fit...

GLUTTONY -> TEMPERANCE - Belphegor

So in opposition to gluttony, temperance literally means “abstinence from alcoholic drink.” But, that’s kind of boring, and like literal chastity, I don’t think that there’s much evidence to say that any of the brothers would fit this very well. The other definition of temperance is “moderation in action, thought, or feeling,” which I think fits the Avatar of Sloth pretty well. Other than... that one time... Belphie keeps a fairly level head, preferring to nap than to get super worked up about things. His sarcastic, smirking comments also display a temperate emotional distance that only the cool Belphegor could embody. Even in the Celestial Realm, Angel of Temperance Belphie could convince people to take it easy, in a way.

SLOTH -> DILIGENCE - Lucifer

And another obvious one to finish the list. If you don’t think that Lucifer works hard, I’m not sure if you’ve been reading the lessons properly. Go listen to the Save Me, Lucifer audio drama, it’s really funny. Lucifer works hard day and night and day and night again both to fulfill Diavolo’s wishes and to keep the House of Lamentation operational. As the Angel of Diligence, Lucifer could have inspired people to work hard, although hopefully incorporating a little more rest than the eldest brother usually gets.

---

I just like to think about the angelic qualities that the brothers display. They always say stuff like “oh, we’re demons, we’re actually terrible people; we just  don’t show that side to you” >:(  But... the hospitality that they show to MC isn’t a lie. That’s part of who they really are as well. So this is my appreciation post to them, showing that they still are good people, even as some of the leaders of the Devildom. I hope these 2D, fictional, hot anime demon boys understand that :,)

[agent-ccarter]

even if it's a lie | Sirius Black

Summary: The Marauders have left Hogwarts, and the impending threat of the Dark Lord looms over them all. (2nd in series )

Warnings: Angst!!!, Swearing maybe, blaspheming, cigarettes.

Pairing:  (I tried to make it a gender neutral reader!!) Y/N x MaraudersEra Girls, Y/N x Sirius

same room | even if its a lie | please, let me get what I want 

*****

I know you don't love me so But please say it once before I go

I know that you can feel me Tell me that you don't love me But say it one more time

*****

Smoking was a habit you'd never entertained much before, mainly using it to remove awkwardness in social situations, but you found yourself relying more on the now, going as far as always carrying a pack on you. You knew it was bad, but quickly the steps outside of the block of apartments had quickly become littered with butts as a result of so many of you taking up the habit. The ground beneath you was cold, but not enough to stop you sitting down whilst you waited.

The click of the door was no surprise as Sirius made sure he was ready early for every meeting, however the sight of only you came as shock.

“Just us?”

“The others were called in to the Ministry early, don't know why. Figured i’d wait.” You flashed the packet of cigarettes towards him, and he slipped one between his lips gratefully. He puffed as if it was an inhaler, before passing a newspaper to you.

“Whats this?” He merely nodded at the paper in response, and you unfolded it to see what he was talking about.

Plastered across the front was a picture of Walhburga Black, looking as distraught as she possibly could without crying, with the headline “Tragedy for the Black Family.” You glanced at Sirius who had continued walking slowly even though you'd stopped. You continued to read: “Walhburga Black has had to deal with tragedy once again this year as the death of her son, Regulus, comes mere months after the death of her husband. The absence of her son, Sirius, means that-”. You stopped reading there, scrunching the pages and dropping it in your bag.

By now, Sirius had finished with his cigarette and he had squished it underneath his boot. The rest of the walk was silent; there was nothing either of you could say to make the other feel better. Only the shared deep breath before you entered the meeting showed each of you that the other was ready.

Lily was the first to greet you, standing from the long table. She tried to disguise her hug as just an overly friendly meeting, but the look she gave you when she pulled bag was obviously to elicit some kind of response.

“Hows my nephew?” You asked, ignoring her and prodding at her bump instead.

“Energetic to say the least!” You giggled, almost asking her what she’d expect from the son of James Potter, but when you looked for him you could see him comforting Sirius in a way you couldn't. He hugged him, hand pressed in the nest of hair and Sirius’ head rested in the crook of his shoulder. A hug of brothers, true brothers, James the only person who knew Sirius like they'd shared a womb.

Lily desperately wanted to ask how the walk had been, but the look of sadness on your face simply made her hug you once more. She whispered in your ear, “How did it happen?” 

“They found him in the water,” you nodded your head for the next part, “ripped to shreds apparently, barely recognisable.

“Jesus,” Lily sighed. She shared one more look of sympathy before moving towards the table. You grabbed a glass of water, raising it gratefully to your chapped lips and drinking it one.

“Lets get started, shall we?” Sirius addressed the room, which was unusually sombre especially as his voice almost croaked. He cleared his throat before continuing, “The last attack in occurred just outside of London, but luckily we were ready. Only one injured, no deaths, and now we just need..” Sirius trailed off in a spiel usually performed by James, a recap of Order activity since the last meeting. He moved his hands everywhere to try and hide the slight shake, ruffling his hair or leaving them in his pockets. James and Remus sent him comforting glances, but when he’d finished he sat down as if he was about to faint. 

“Y/N, I need you to keep an eye out near Grimmauld Place, okay?” James asked, sending another comforting glance, except it was to you this time. “There has been a lot of Deatheater activity around there recently, for, obvious reasons.” He trailed off, and continued to hand out assignments before anyone could dwell on what he'd said. 

The meeting was over quickly, and you were about to leave when you heard a “Y/N, wait!” from Sirius. “Ill walk back with you.” You nodded in response, waving goodbye to everyone else. 

The walk to Grimmauld Place (neither of you had to tell the other where you'd be going as you knew eachother far too well) was another silent one, except for the quick exchange when Sirius ran into an off license to top up his cigarettes and grab a bottle of cheap alchohol. 

Thankfully, the area around the row of houses was sheltered with trees, and the somewhat busy streets largely drowned out your minimal conversations. You set up camp on a bench, sharing the vodka between you. You took a big gulp just after you watched your mother leave the Black residence, escorted by your brother. 

“Fucks sake,” you huffed, earning a concerned look from Sirius, “they're cowards, sneaking around in the dark to hide how shitty they are.” “To fucked up families,” Sirius poured some liquid in the bottle cap, passing you the bottle and hitting them together in a cheers.

“To fucked up families,” you agreed, letting the alcohol burn your throat once more. You wanted to say something more, about how you've both chosen yours instead of relying on blood, and you were sure that Sirius had the same idea as he stared so intently at you that you could the reflection of the street lights flashing perfectly against his eyes. 

He looked perfect. God did he look perfect.

“I’m sorry, you know,” you coughed, liquid courage twisting in your throat, “for how it all ended. I love you.”

He sighed, as if he was simultaneously waiting for those words to leave your lips and hating the fact that they did.

“Please, don't,” he muttered, both of you now more aware of his hand resting on yours. You tried to pull yours away, embarrassed at him shooting down your confession, but he entangled his fingers with your instead. 

“We've got too much to lose. Ive already lost everything, I can't lose all of you too,” he sighed once more, and you were sure you could see a slight gloss more evident in his eyes, “I can't lose you. I couldn't stand it.”

You understood. Neither of you had anywhere else to go, anyone you were blood related to go running to when it all went to shit. No loving parent to hold you while you cry, no sibling to torment. The compromise of friend you could manage; pushing down the feelings was ok if it meant you'd have at least some family left. Someone to run to when you needed it.

But you were sat so close that vodka from both of your breath’s mixed between your lips, and you lent in further to close the gap. Sure, you'd just agreed to stop, but it was clear he was leaning on to.

Unfortunately, the bang of a door echoed around the road, and the pair of you snapped away to see his mother stood outside of the large house, dwarfed by the huge house, and crying. Crying? This was the only time you could ever feel any sympathy for such a spiteful, cruel woman, though Sirius certainly didn't feel any at all. He stood up so quickly that you were sure Walhburga could hear his boots as he quickly walked home.

*****

i'm going darling, I'll step lightly Live on as if you still love me Just say it one more time Even if it's a lie, even if it's a lie

*****