#one is saying how bad it’d be if the entire world was taken over by sculk and all the emperors and hermits all succumbed to it and were

[ween-kitchens]

hey, uh

isn’t there some weird sculky stuff going on in lizzies attic

didn’t she call it corruption

isn’t cub corrupted by the sculk now

hey should we be worried ahah

[miscelliteeous]

SO it turns out I have even more thoughts on him than I realized, like I wrote 14k words about him and I still have so much more to say so here’s some headcanons that didn’t really fit anywhere. NOT WORKSAFE, but this covers a wide range of topics, with the nsfw stuff being only like 1/4th of them.

Adam Frankenstein Headcanons

- General:

He’s a stew guy, like that’d be his go-to meal if he could have it. He likes that no matter what it always tastes a little different than the last time and how easily it can be modified with different ingredients plus it warms him and makes him feel cared for.

Gets cold easily and gets colder than most people can handle, though he still prefers to be wrapped up in something warm.

His voice is deep and can vary between gravelly and raspy, though it gets a tiny bit higher when he’s upset or extremely passionate about something.

Tends to mutter under his breath and talk to himself a little when he’s working on figuring out something complicated.

He can be a bit impulsive and it often bites him in the ass, but he’s working on it.

Has absolutely NO care for looking how men are expected to look at that time in society.

His hair gets very poofy and wavy when it’s taken out of a wet braid.

He has thin skin, and though he heals relatively quickly, he also scars very easily and bleeds easily too.

Will read anything and everything he can get his hands on. He wants to learn about the world as much as possible.

His favorite fiction genre is romance, and he likes big, toxic all-consuming romances and thinks they’re the height of romance. He’s a Heathcliff stan (hey, he’s gotta have SOME bad qualities, am I right?).

Not the best at singing, can’t really stay on tune, but he enjoys singing when happy and alone. Gets very embarrassed if caught.

Animals either adore him or despise him, there is no in-between.

Has a habit of slouching over when standing, to seem just a little shorter.

Feels emotions very intensely. He’s never just sad, he’s devastated, he’s never just angry, he’s furious, he’s never just happy, he’s overjoyed. It’s something he’s working on.

- Romantic:

He has a habit of staring at the one he loves for a long time, blinking very minimally.

Adam doesn’t like to be far away from you, and will follow you around like a lost puppy.

Very much would prefer to have some part of him touching you at all times, usually handholding.

Takes him a while to get used to you touching him as opposed to him touching you, but once he does, he melts.

Braid his hair! It’s practical, its cute, it says fuck you to fashion trends of the time, and it’d make him smile. Braid! His! Hair!

Loves the idea of helping out with mundane tasks, like he’ll cook and sew and be so very gentle when brushing your hair.

Uses so many little terms of endearments, the more reverence they show to you the better. He wants you to know he puts you on a pedestal and practically worships you.

One thing that will piss him off quickly (unless you’ve maybe asked him to please hold back ahead of time) is someone insulting you. He’d be ready to go off on them in a scary way within seconds.

Ideal sleeping position: curled up around you like a pill-bug. He’s big enough that he can probably wrap his body entirely around you and would want to do that every night if he could. Horrible for both of your backs.

If you braid his hair (which you should!) he would want to braid yours in return if possible.

Tends to stand behind you when in public. Partially out of shyness, partially to serve as a warning to others to not fuck with you.

When he’s standing behind you in public? The slouch is GONE, he is eight feet of glaring intensity, like a pissed off lighthouse behind a tiny cottage.

Really doesn’t like anyone else touching you and would get a bit more clingy even if it was a purely platonic touch.

Honestly he’s very possessive. He’s found one person in the world who loves HIM, flaws and all, and he doesn’t want to risk losing you.

Tells you he loves you at least 4-5 times a day, including any time you leave a room he’s in.

- Sexual:

You know that image of the hamster eating a banana? You’re the hamster.

Massive, ridiculously large dick that’s still in proportion so it doesn’t look too crazy huge, but it’s still probably about 9-10 inches hard, 7-8 flaccid.

Absolutely aware of how big he is, and takes every step he can think of to make things easier, though it might still be tricky at first.

Adam prefers positions where he can see your face.

Very vocal, tries to hold back sometimes but fails, very loud.

Says anything that comes to his mind, most of which is just really over-the-top praise for you and how you make him feel.

He’s close to 400lbs of muscle, but very mindful of his body so that he doesn’t hurt you. Even if he lays on you he’d still be supporting himself mostly.

Not really fond of mirrors being involved. He’d love to see different angles of you, but himself? Not so much.

Thinks he’s going to die and ascend to heaven when he first gets a blowjob. Though he loves it, he prefers to give rather than receive, he wouldn’t want to hurt your jaw.

Not much aftercare the first time because he doesn’t know as much about it, but once he learns he’s a king.

Cleans you up, gives you a massage, water, holds you, praises you (even more!), makes sure you’re okay and that you enjoyed it too. He would melt if you do the same for him too.

- Familial/Paternal:

Ideally, he would have two children, he would love to be father to a boy and girl, but he would be happy with any amount or none at all and taking care of pets instead. He just wants to raise and care for something the way Victor never raised and cared for him.

So indecisive with names, like there’s so many good names he would want to use, he’d probably leave it mostly up to you.

The one name he’d really want to use? The second he hears the name Abigail means something like “my father is joyful” he jumps for it because that’s exactly how he feels about being a father.

So scared to hold the baby for a good while. He’s just so big and they’re so small and if he accidentally hurt them he’d never forgive himself.

Hovers around the baby though and still holds its little hand. As close as he can get without holding them.

Once he gets over that, he’s a very attentive father.

Very high chance any of his kids would have his black hair and some of his facial features. He’d hope they would have your eyes though.

Lets his kids climb all over him, pull his hair, swing on his arms, anything just as long as they don’t get hurt.

Very encouraging of them to explore and learn new things but also a bit of helicopter dad.

Torn between wanting to keep his kid/s safe from the world and wanting them to be able to do anything they set their mind to.

While not quite 8ft, I think any kids he would have would still grow to be a bit taller than average.

[professionallyyappinabtangst]

Not Fair

TW - Cursing, If You Look Hard Enough Slight NSFW,

WC - 1072

AN- well here it is the long-awaited part 2 of David Shaw was paying attention! I hope it was worth the wait{ I couldn't remember if the cat was male or female- mb.. like a slight David x Asher type thing- matching word count was not intended}

It’s not fair. You should be here with me. You should be here. Smiling, laughing, and gossiping with Asher. You should be here! You should be annoying the shit out of me. You should be here. Angel.. I miss you so fucking much. God theirs so much I wish I could say..

But I'm reduced to say it right here. Over a gravestone with your name on it. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve come here. Every day is harder than it needs to be. Waking up without you in my arms hurts. My mind likes to convince me that you’re in the living room playing Minecraft. 

Funny enough.. I’ve been playing Minecraft more. I wanted to see what you loved about that game so much… angel the last thing I expected to see when I opened the world biome I started on. Was an entire pack of wolves..

I would have been offended to see the name, Davey.. But now the only thing I want is to hear you say it one more time. Run my hands over your body.. Had I known..God.. I just miss you so much.. Things are so much harder without you.

I haven’t spent the night in the house since your passing. It's too quiet.. The pack has taken to watching over me. Or sleepovers is what they’ve taken to calling it. I'm not the world's smartest man. But I'm not stupid either… even when you’re not here..

Talking to you is easy. It's a bit funny.. You get to meet my mom before I ever did. Micheal stopped by earlier, he couldn’t bring himself to come to the service. And he felt bad about it. 

I'm sure you wouldn’t have minded.. But he did drop off your cat.. The one I said I wasn’t going to take care of. His new partner is allergic to cats.. Originally he was going to give her to us after the trip.. But you know how that turned out.

So he gave her to me. And I’m starting to see why Milo keeps a cat. Though she’s a gremlin just like you…. Were… it’s nice having a reminder of you.. But the main reason for today's visit.. It will be the first day I'm spending the night alone back in the house. 

Of course, asher is trying to come over. He wants to make sure I eat. As if he could properly cook something. The last thing I'm going to let his ass do is burn the damn cabinets again. Though he’s been the biggest help.

He’s even been getting into fewer arguments with Christian.. However, I feel that's more of them building a good relationship. But I don’t know.. I haven’t been focusing on my alpha duties. I took a break from some of the jobs. Milo and Amanda have been covering for me. 

But I know I’ll have to get back to work soon. As much as I wished the world would stop so that I could permanently sit here and cry like I want to. I can’t.. I know I can’t.. I’m an alpha let alone the alpha of one of the strongest packs in Dahlia..

I’ll have to go soon..but I want to say sorry.. I know I wasn’t the best partner.. I was an ass, a prick.. Any name really. It’d probably fit. These words don’t mean much now that you’re gone. But I still needed you to hear them. 

But do I remember the things you have taught me. You’ve taught me things I needed to know. Things I’ve needed to grow. Angel, you still teach me things while you're gone. Your cat teaches me things too. I brought her a bed. But she likes to sleep in our bed..

Or well mine now. I think the reason I’ve been so scared to be alone in the house is because we got it together. It was supposed to be our forever home. But without you it’s quiet. And doesn’t feel like home.. Or at least our home anymore. 

Your memory haunts the place. Everywhere I go in that house. I get reminded of what I lost… what the world lost. I still remember the nights I had to force you to get off of that damn computer. You did so much for me. And yet I can’t return.. The favor… Angel something I’ve come to realize, as time passes..

Yes, I still think it’s not fair you got taken away. From the people you loved and cared about. Yes, it will be hard to live life without you. But.. what you’ve taught me is things will get better. 

I will keep opening up more.. I will keep living. You will never not be on my mind. But your memory has and will make me stronger.. And the pack has my back more than ever.. Sometimes I wonder if that's the influence you had on them..

They most definitely see through my bullshit now. I know that's something you taught them.. You and Ash.. learning to accept you’re gone hurts. It hurts a lot.. But..i know things will get better. Angel.. I love you. And I always will. 

David stands, brushing off his jeans and wiping the tears off his face. It was getting late and he needed to get home. His furry friend would be upset if he was late. He took one long look at the gravestone. Forget-me-nots were growing around it. He laughed a little as another tear rolled down his face. And made his way to his car. As got in the car and went to adjust the rearview mirror. 

He saw a familiar face.. With a matching smile. 

‘’ Good job Davey ‘’ 

And that moment he couldn’t help but break into tears.. And laughs. His angel would do something like this. Or find a way to do something like this. They’ve always been like that. He started the car and that face stayed for most of the ride. They even had a conversation.. Before he had to say goodbye for the final and last time. 

His angel was floating with the angels. And probably telling his mom all about him. As well as gossiping with his dad. Time will heal this wound. But for now, he’s allowed to grieve.

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Degustatión

Hannibal Lecter x Will Graham x Fem!Reader

Also on AO3

Summary: You, an aspiring food critic, are introduced to Doctor Hannibal Lecter by one of your professors. The two of you bond over good food and perhaps... a mutual attraction. Then, Will Graham -- Hannibal's closest friend and confidant -- is added into the equation and things get a lot more complicated... but let's be honest, a whole lot more interesting as well.

Word Count: 4,464 words.

Warnings: SMUT! (18+ only, minors dni), p in v, light knife play, oral sex (f & m), threesome, lmk if there's anything I missed!

A/N: Yep, not much plot, we are going straight to it. We all know what we came here for right? HEAVY ON THE SELF-INDULGENCE

———

The night air was crisp and cool, seeping all the way to your bones despite the layers you wore. Fall was coming to a close and winter was quickly approaching, icy claws bared. You stared up at the house – his house – admiring the impeccable but austere architecture. It reminded you of a more modern sort of palace and, my word, was it fitting of the man you came to see.

As you locked your car and began slowly walking up the driveway, you shivered, but it had nothing to do with the temperature.

This wouldn’t be the first time you’d dine with Doctor Hannibal Lecter, the most refined palate in all of Baltimore. In fact, the first time you met him – a favor from your creative writing professor, who knew of your dream of becoming a food critic – he’d taken you out to dinner. He was always happy to meet people who loved food as much as he did.

It’d been at a fancy restaurant, glittering diamonds and expensive perfume and the cold sneers of the wealthy surrounding you. It was way out of your budget, to say the least. But you hadn’t been surprised at his choice; he was a little eccentric, after all.

You’d felt bad, but he’d insisted on taking care of the bill, so long as you gave your honest opinion on the dishes he ordered for you to try. You were definitely not a picky eater, but you’d been a bit hesitant to relent all of your control. In the end, your own promise to give everything a chance at least once convinced you.

And boy, did Hannibal know how to eat. Not that you thought all word about him was a rumor, but you simply had not known the depths of their truth.

In just that first meeting, he expanded your palate considerably, presenting you with things you’d never even thought of. Perhaps not to the level he was on, but it still felt like a whole new world was yawning open for you to explore.

Sometimes you still dreamed of the lingering umami of caviar, the richness of a good Malbec wine, the sweet and creamy croquembouche he’d fed you spoonfuls of for dessert.

But you had felt a little embarrassed afterward, like you’d been a mere imposter before that night. What the hell had you even known about food?

You had a couple of exotic meals under your belt, but you were only truly starting your career journey, and money wasn’t always permitting.

On the other hand, you’d also felt slightly reassured by the way he watched you, appraising and unrelenting, with a certain curiosity that made you feel completely exposed. He had delighted in your deep hums of approval, the soft glaze of bliss in your eyes. He hung onto your every word as you described flavors, textures, scents. He’d smirked slightly throughout the entire ordeal, hazel eyes shining with amusement, and you found yourself squirming slightly in your seat.

He hadn’t failed to notice that either. In fact, unbeknownst to you, he had a very keen sense of smell, and he seemed to get hooked on yours.

So yes, you had bonded over food, and every subsequent meeting had brought something new and positively groundbreaking. The way he could make you experience such wonders seemed to entice him to continue seeing you, and you certainly were happy to oblige.

But tonight was different in more than one way. He’d bestowed upon you the great honor of inviting you to one of his famous dinner parties, to finally get a taste of his cooking. The idea of eating something put together by his hands – so elegant, with such long fingers, like a pianist’s – felt incredibly intimate, but also monumental. It was anticipation that had you quivering, your whole body tight and seemingly buzzing with electricity.

Especially as you heard a car door shut behind you. Ah, there was the other reason you were so anxious. You whirled around to face him and his steps slowed as he found himself pinned under your gaze.

Not necessarily a rival, but someone who definitely seemed to want to compete with you for Doctor Lecter’s attention. In his own subtle way, of course.

You had heard the name Will Graham a couple of times in your meetings with Hannibal and it was very apparent that they were close. Very close.

When you two had finally been introduced, you did not know what to make of one another. Will was tense and awkward for the most part, avoiding eye contact as much as he could. He was definitely more reserved, letting you and Hannibal do most of the talking, but chiming in with dry remarks whenever he thought it was necessary.

But he also seemed intrigued by you, often looking at you at least from the corner of his eye, like he wanted to see for himself what your appeal to Hannibal was. Not many got close to the Doctor, it seemed, even as popular as he was.

Will studied you in return and smiled almost imperceptibly. It felt like a truce, which you readily accepted.

“What a coincidence,” he said. “We’re both so punctual.”

“Anything else would be rude.” You said, your tone light, even if you firmly believed it to be true. Especially when it came to Hannibal.

He stepped toward you, offering you his arm. “Shall we?”

You linked your arm with his, immediately getting a whiff of his strong aftershave. You understood why Hannibal hated it, but you didn’t voice your opinions. You wished you could smell his more natural scent – pine needles and petrichor and musk – as it fit him much better. It made you want to bury your face in the crook of his neck, fingers intertwined with the curls at his nape.

Perhaps he also did not know what to do with the fact you seemed to be drawn to him as well. It was that quiet, mysterious air about him, always assessing, poised to strike. In a way, he sort of reminded you of Hannibal, though not quite as eased into that darker, more primal nature.

You waited as Will rang the doorbell, arm still holding yours. You weren’t sure if he was leading you, or if he had captured you, not letting you escape. The idea of either was titillating, though it wasn’t like you wanted to leave.

Then, the door opened and there he was, that familiar smirk already on his handsome face.

“Well, well,” Hannibal said. “It’s a pleasure to see you both. Please, come in.”

As you stepped over the threshold, Will took the bottle of wine you brought – a Shiraz, which you remembered Hannibal mentioned liking – as Dr. Lecter stepped behind you.

“May I?” He asked, referring to your coat.

You nodded and his hands slid over your shoulders lightly as you shrugged your coat off. His fingers were warm, almost teasing, and you momentarily wondered how they’d feel on your exposed flesh.

Hannibal inhaled deeply, scenting your perfume – Amber, smoky cedar, bergamot – and that chemical change in your sweat at his nearness.

“Your home is so lovely.” You breathed, taking in your surroundings-- The pastoral art on the walls, the dark glaze of the hardwood floors, the almost surgical cleanliness. It was all just so him. “Thank you for inviting me.”

Hannibal nodded in appreciation, leading you both to the dining room. Will, who was at your side, leaned in close to your ear. “Be careful not to let your jaw fully unhinge, it’s bad for the muscle.”

You scoffed, half amused and half offended. Was he accusing you of being a brown-noser, or did he dislike simply dislike you currying Hannibal’s favor?

“We don’t have to do this, you know,” You said, your voice a husky whisper. “We were playing nice just now. Though I have to say, I do like that little fire of yours. It tells me you can still burn, if you so want.”

Will said nothing, and you knew that in some way, you got to him. Yes, you’d had just a little bit of liquid courage before you got here, but just enough to warm the blood; If only so they might not confuse you for a trembling fawn, surrendering to its fate. It had certainly loosened your tongue a little, letting your desires slip through.

As Hannibal pulled your chair out for you, his smirk grew a little as he sensed the sudden tension between you and his coveted Will Graham. Oh, things were already getting so interesting.

Hannibal poured three glasses of the wine you brought, reaching over to squeeze your hand upon reading the label. You felt a swell of pride in your chest, hid it behind a demure smile. He eyed the column of your throat as you swallowed your wine.

“Forgive my forwardness,” Hannibal said, setting his glass down. “But I must say, you look quite… delectable tonight. Did you go through all that trouble just for me?”

“Doctor Lecter–” You breathed a small, shy laugh, cheeks flushed.

“Careful, Hannibal.” Will cut in, looking right at you. “She might put your dinner to shame.”

“No, I don’t believe she would.” Hannibal leaned forward slightly. “In fact, I have some slightly regretful news. I apologize for waiting until now to bring this up, but I thought we could have a different approach to tonight’s dinner.”

You tilted your head to one side, just now realizing that there were no enticing scents of a cooked meal. You’d been so occupied with his presence to notice. Disappointment curled in your stomach, but his tone made you straighten your spine.

“Oh?” You prompted, suddenly very curious.

“In the continued pursuit of new experiences for you, I was wondering… How would you like to be tasted?”

There was a moment of silence in which you didn’t even move, unsure if you were dreaming or he’d actually just said those words. Oh, what cruel torture it would be, if it turned out to be the former.

But then he went on. “Will and I spoke of it. He was the one to suggest the idea, actually.”

Your eyes immediately drifted to Will Graham, who was looking intently at Hannibal’s profile. That was a time he decided to stay quiet, but you didn’t fail to notice how his Adam’s appled bobbed with a hard swallow.

“Did he now?” Your voice dropped to a near whisper, sultry, coaxing. “And did Mister Graham go into the specifics of how this would go about?”

“Well if I did or not, wouldn’t it be better for you to find out?” Will said, terse, as if he could still not admit his desires to himself. Like he was ashamed of wanting something to keenly. “Or did you want me to tell you?”

You held his gaze for a moment, shaking your head almost imperceptibly.

But then, looking at both men, a sort of awareness made your skin tingle. A field mouse between two mighty serpents, not fully concealed in the tall grass. You wondered how their fangs might feel as they sunk into you, how their venom must sting.

Well, you did say you would try anything at least once, didn’t you?

You cleared your throat, crossing your legs. “Will anyone else be joining us for dinner?”

Hannibal arched a light brow, just as Will finally looked at you, a little taken aback. To Hannibal, this wasn’t so much of a revelation, but more of a confirmation. You secretly loved the theatricality, the rapturous looks of spectators. Most of all, you loved when the spotlight was on you, baring everything – your soul included – for examination. It was what drew him most to you.

Perhaps eventually, but that night…

“No, just us.” Hannibal said finally. “Only with your consent, of course. I do not want to make assumptions. It was just a thought, a mere… unbecoming desire.”

“Perhaps it is mutual.” You admitted, breathless. “We are only made of flesh and fault, after all.”

“Yes, and how tender seems the flesh.” He trailed a finger lightly down your arm, and goosebumps followed in its wake.

Hannibal’s easy smirk returned as you squirmed, thighs rubbing against each other, heat pooling in your stomach and even lower. Will adjusted in his seat, clearing his throat, swallowing hard once again.

You wondered what it would be like to see him break; to see him without restraints, free, surrendered to his basest instincts. You wondered if Hannibal had seen him that way, and if he was just about to share that with you. Or do the same to you.

You weren’t sure which you wanted more, but you were sure you would lose your head if you got neither. Were you beneath begging? It was yet to be seen…

You worried your bottom lip with your teeth, unsure of how to proceed. “What do you need me to do?”

“Nothing, dearest. Leave it to me – to us. You’ll be in very good hands.”

That sultry promise in his words – purred to you in a way only he seemed to know how – melted you completely. You had never believed in anything more.

-------------------------------

The first slow lick of your open mouth had your breath catching, but you couldn’t do much more than close your eyes. Hannibal held your face with one hand, and you were sure it was the only thing grounding you to the Earth; tethering you to your own body.

But then his tongue dragged over yours a second time, and a soft mewl escaped you, your head spinning.

“I’m not sure which I like more,” Hannibal said, voice husky. “Those sounds you make, or the taste of good wine on your tongue.”

The three of you had moved to the kitchen, with you sitting on the dark granite island. The kitchen was opulent and in pristine condition, though there were small details that showed it was well lived in. Out of all the rooms in the house, you knew this was where Hannibal spent most of his time.

Not that you were really paying much attention to your surroundings at that very moment.

“I think you’ve rendered her speechless.” Will commented, an edge of amusement in his voice.

Your eyes fluttered open just barely as Hannibal chuckled. “And we’re barely getting started.”

He slowly trailed the back of his hand down the sleeve of your blouse. “I don’t think we’re going to be needing this, do you?’’

Hannibal took a step back, fingers pensively dancing over the handles of the knives that were stored in a polished wooden block. You immediately moved to start unbuttoning your silk blouse, hands shaking.

But Will, in a sudden act of confidence, stepped forward, between your legs.

“Allow me.” He murmured, eyes downcast.

You watched him closely, how his patient hands slowly finished undoing all the buttons. Your chest heaved as he gently pushed it off your shoulders, pooling at your back. He gazed intently at the lacy bralette you wore, barely concealing anything. Your nipples were two hard peaks that pressed against the thin fabric, demanding attention.

But he did not give it to you. At least, not yet.

Then, Will and Hannibal switched places, your eyes closely trailing the glint of the chef knife’s edge. Your pulse began racing, both in exhilaration and a slight tinge of fear.

Hannibal took a moment to look at you, his hand coming to rest on the flat expanse on your stomach. His hand inches upwards, fingers just barely grazing the soft underwire of your bralette.

“Let’s see what we’re working with here, shall we?” He purred, holding your gaze. “Lean back for me, sweetness.”

You oblige without a doubt. In the next moment, his finger curls, pulling the underwire forward, the knife following close behind. You gasped and in a quick, expert slash, the measly excuse for a cover falls apart, baring your breasts. Your back arched instinctively, attempting to get closer to him.

Hannibal hummed in approval, his smirk positively devious. “Take a gander, Will.”

He trailed the flat part of the knife — featherlight, barely a whisper – down your sternum, through the valley between your breasts. You dared not move this time, not wanting to distract him from this deliciously slow torture. You kept expecting even the slightest nick of the blade, and that fearful anticipation made you even more aroused.

“I must say, I’m not quite sure where to start. Such softness… Such supple skin.” Hannibal mused. The tip of the knife stopped at the hem of your skirt, and he tilted his head to the side with the curiosity of a predator sizing up its’ meal. “We should free you of this too, hm?”

“Yes.” You breathed.

Will tsked in disapproval. “Don’t forget your manners, now.”

Your eyes were drawn to him, your pupils blown wide with desire, the darkness swallowing your iris. You briefly wondered if they could hear the jackhammer pace of your heart; Like a war drum against your ribcage.

“Please.” You added, just as low, your voice somewhere out of reach.

The knife retracted and Hannibal offered you a hand so you could stand up. As soon as you did, he pressed you against him, your bare chest against his woefully clothed one. Will came up behind you, intent on unzipping your skirt, but you stopped him with the arch of your back, pressing your ass against his crotch.

He sucked an audible breath through his teeth, a groan threatening to escape his throat. Hannibal chuckled as Will gripped your hands behind your back with one hand and finally undid your skirt. Roughly, he pulled it off of you, stepping back as Hannibal quickly spun you around to face him.

You gripped Will’s arms tightly as his lips captured yours in a ferocious kiss. He held you up as Hannibal ripped your stockings apart – both with the knife and his hands – jostling you a little against Will. You couldn’t help but moan into his mouth as your panties fell to the same fate.

When you broke the kiss – an obscene string of saliva still connecting your lips – you looked into his eyes, breath catching at the intensity of them; Like a pure and holy – or perhaps unholy? – blue flame. He was getting more and more beautiful by the minute, unraveling before your eyes.

You felt Hannibal’s finger trail up your inner thigh, capturing your wetness. “What a delightful mess you’ve made.”

You squirmed in Will’s embrace, slightly embarrassed at his discovery. How were you so wet already?

Actually, you knew the answer to that question.

Hannibal’s fingers trailed further up, precariously close to that aching spot you really wanted him to touch. But he stopped, almost expectant.

“What do we say?” Will said, voice dangerously low.

“T-thank you.” You gasped as Hannibal grazed his teeth against your inner thigh, chasing away the sharp sting with his tongue.

Involuntarily, you pushed your hips back, closer to his face. You heard Will’s belt clink slightly as he undid it, along with his trousers. You reached down, wanting to touch him, to savor him too, but he only smirked devilishly.

“Greedy thing, isn’t she?” Will purred, taking a hold of your hand to stop you.

“So it seems.” Hannibal said, standing up. “But with such delectable honey, how can we deny her?”

From behind you, he stretched his hand out towards Will, offering his fingers slick with your arousal. Without a second thought, Will leaned forward and captured his fingers in his mouth, tongue wrapping around his digits.

And that taste of you, saccharine on his tongue, sticking to his palate in all its glory, snapped something in him. He let out a low growl and pushed your hand away, his trousers and boxers soon falling to the floor in a heap.

Hannibal crouched once more behind you as Will pulled you forward, your eyes widening and mouth watering. At the same time that Hannibal buried his face in your cunt, you grasped Will’s erection, a glistening bead of precum on the tip.

Will leaned back against the kitchen island and you bent lower, sticking your tongue out and lapping up the precum. The taste of him was a bit sharp, but not unpleasant; salty and slightly musky. You hummed in approval, giving the underside of the head a teasing lick. His hand buried in your hair, guiding your head gently.

As you took him in your mouth, you moaned around his length. Hannibal was licking you in long, languid strokes, hands spreading you further open. Your legs twitched, but you were too wrapped up in the feel of Will’s cock sliding over your tongue. He shuttled it in and out slowly, reaching a little further every time. You hummed your pleasure continuously, the vibration of it adding to his own pleasure.

Will’s hips bucked and he grunted, eyes screwed shut and head thrown back in ecstasy. Then behind you, Hannibal picked up the pace, his tongue circling your clit as he inserted a finger into your cunt. Your whole body tensed, the movements of your head momentarily halting, and Will snapped to attention.

“Don’t make her come yet.” He snarled, a startling possessive edge to his tone.

Much to your chagrin, Hannibal acquiesced, pulling back, though his finger was still pumping in and out of you at a much slower pace. With a loud pop, you released his cock, drool sloppily dripping down your chin.

“Apologies, I got too carried away.” Hannibal panted, sounding quite smug at how he got you dripping for him. “I’ve seldom tasted something quite so divine. Sweet ambrosia, a feast worthy of the Gods.”

He withdrew completely, pulling you up with him. One hand came up to grip your neck just tight enough to keep you pinned; The other came up to palm your breast, thumb teasing your nipple. You growled in frustration, wiggling your hips.

“What’s that now?” Will taunted, stroking his length slowly – flicking his wrist just so… oh sweet torture! – his breath ragged. “Didn’t we agree to play nice earlier?”

“Oh, she’s being nice. Aren’t you, sweetness?” Hannibal purred, tilting your head to the side to meet his gaze. He looked much like you, lower half of his face glistening with an artful mess of your own creation. “Perhaps she deserves a taste.”

And he kissed you, tongue immediately parting your lips and tangling with your own. You tasted yourself on his lips, mixed in with his saliva, and it had an almost narcotic effect on you. Warmth spread throughout you, oblivion just at your fingertips. You were simply, utterly hooked.

He pulled away to toss his jacket to the side and then bound your hands behind your back with his tie. You heard him undo his trousers and you suppressed a shiver of anticipation. You kept your eyes on Will, the steady rhythm of his hand stroking himself hypnotizing you.

Then, you felt Hannibal’s cock line up with your entrance, the head of it barely slipping in. His low groan was in your ear and he dipped his head to nip your shoulder. You held your breath, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he plunged further into you, making sure you felt every inch.

When he was fully sheathed in you – your head swimming and barely able to tell where he ended and you began – your mouth slackened in pure, unadultered ecstasy.

“How angelic,” Will breahted, awed. “Look at the rapture in her eyes, gazing directly into Heaven.”

“How lucky… she had us to show her.” Hannibal panted.

Hannibal fucked you with a near surgical precision, his thrusts deep and unrelenting, knowing exactly what spots to hit to make you cry out. In fact, he guided himself by the sounds you made, adjusting quickly to whatever seemed to make you respond the most. His hand snaked down to your clit, stroking in time with his thrusts.

And he had to admit, you really did look like an angel in that moment, rosy cheeked, eyelashes thick with tears of overstimulation. Those undignified moans of yours were like a melody he would remember for days to come.

By the tight clench of your cunt, he knew you were right there, but as much as he wanted you to come all over his cock – anointing him with your cream, forever marking him – he knew he’d already been quite greedy with you. He wanted Will to have it; A gift to him.

The swap was almost seamless; one moment you were achingly empty, ready to claw the walls if you didn’t get your release soon. But then you were bent over the kitchen island, legs kicked apart, and Will filled you up in a single thrust.

The way he fucked you was wholly different. Will was more frantic, almost feral, all bared teeth and low growling. His hips slapped against yours loudly, his thrusts quick and almost punishing.

Your body was pure fire, a pillar of all consuming flame. You worried you would slip through their fingers if you weren’t held together tight enough.

Hannibal watched through the whole ordeal, stroking himself, though a part of you wished you could be doing it for him.

And suddenly, with a slight tilt of his hips, Will hit a certain spot inside of you that finally unraveled that tight coil in your stomach. With a keening wail, you stumbled into oblivion, shooting stars streaking in the darkness your eyelids.

Will was right there with you, the tight clench your cunt milking out his pleasure. He painted his design inside you, a messy, unabashed masterpiece.

After a couple more heartbeats, in which you listened to his grunts and ragged breathing, he pulled out of you, sticky warmth trickling down your inner thigh.

Hannibal undid the tie holding your hands, massaging your arms gently and kissing down your spine. He’d already cleaned himself of his own release, now intent on taking care of you. He turned you around and embraced you, wiping your damp hair away from your forehead.

You sagged against him, smiling beatifically, breathing heavily still. Your body still responded to his touch, but you were exhausted.

Will soon returned, already clean himself, with a soft towel in hand. He kneeled in front of you and cleaned you with the utmost care. Both of them looked at you reverently, like someone to worship.

“Well, out of all our times dining together, I have to say… this has been my favorite.” You sighed dreamily, voice still tremulous.

Hannibal chuckled. “Trust me, sweet angel, this won’t be the only time.”

And you were more than okay with that promise.

———

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

The Phoenix and the Crow

part nineteen

pairing: kaz brekker x fem!reader

genre: neutral

el's thoughts: 19!! my brain isn't understanding haha hope you enjoy!

series masterlist

Y/N made a sound of disgust, her contempt for the Fjerdan clear, and the Zemeni man next to the inferni stopped fidgeting, his mouth falling slightly ajar. Kaz, however, didn’t seem surprised. If anything, he looked pleased.

“I can give you something better,” said Kaz.

Doubt and suspicion swam in Matthias’ eyes. “There is nothing else I want.”

“I can make you druskelle again.”

“Are you a magician, then? A wej sprite who grants wishes? I’m superstitious, not stupid.”

“You can be both, you know, but that’s hardly the point.” Kaz slipped a gloved hand into his dark coat. “Here,” he said. And gave a piece of paper to the inferni. She brought the paper up to his face for him to read. The document was written in Kerch and Fjerdan. Matthias’ eyes scanned over the paper that had statements of a release due in his favor. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “What evidence?” 

Kaz leaned back in his chair. “It seems Nina Zenik has recanted her statements. She will face charges of perjury.”

“Perjury? How long will you serve for that, Zenik?”

“Two months,” she said quietly.

“Two months?” Matthias laughed cruelly, his body twitching as if he’d been poisoned.

The others watched him with some concern. 

“Just how crazy is he?” Jesper asked, fingers drumming on the pearl handles of his precious revolvers. 

Y/N shrugged. “He’s not what I’d call reliable, but he’s all we’ve got apparently.”

Once Matthias got over his laughing fit he cleared his throat. “She can’t be trusted, you know,” he said to Kaz. “Whatever secrets you hope to gain from Bo Yul-Bayur, she’ll turn them over to Ravka.”

Y/N clenched her fists, but before she could say anything Kaz jumped to the defence. “Let me worry about that, Helvar. You do your part, and the secrets of Yul-Bayur and jurda parem will be in the hands of the people best equipped to make sure they stay rumors.”

Y/N eyed Kaz cautiously as she wondered who he planned on handing the drug and chemist over to. There are things that he has kept in the dark and she knew it would come to sneak up on them later if he didn’t bring it to light. 

After a bit more of going back and forth Matthias finally agreed to Kaz’s terms. 

“We’re going to untie you,” said Kaz. “I hope prison hasn’t robbed you of all your manners or good sense.”

Matthias nodded and Y/N pulled out a knife to cut him free of the ropes that binded him. “I believe you know Nina,” Kaz continued. “The lovely girl freeing you is Y/N L/N, our own personal Ravkan soldier and the best in the trade. Jesper Fahey is our sharpshooter, Zemeni-born but try not to hold it against him, and this is Wylan, the best demolitions expert in the Barrel.”

A rag tag group who had taken the world by storm while they helped save it from the darkest of shadows. Now challenged to take on the biggest heist of their lives. None of them entirely prepared for what came next but they all had their motives. Righteous and good-willed or greedy and selfish, they all had one goal and they hoped it’d be strong enough to hold them together.

“Besides, Wylan isn’t just good with the flint and fuss. He’s our insurance.” Kaz spoke while avoiding eye contact with Y/N.

“Against what?” Nina asked.

“Meet Wylan Van Eck,” said Kaz Brekker as the boy’s cheeks flooded crimson. “Jan Van Eck’s son and our guarantee on four million kruge.”

Jesper stared at Wylan. “You’re a Councilman’s kid? I mean that explains everything… Why didn’t you tell me?” His eyes had grown soft and filled with hurt. 

Wylan was red-faced and mortified. Nina looked stunned and irritated. The Fjerdan just seemed confused. Kaz appeared utterly pleased with himself. Y/N glared hard at the side of Dirtyhand’s face.

Wylan’s mouth opened and closed, his throat working. “You knew?” he asked Kaz miserably.

Kaz leaned back in his chair, one knee bent, his bad leg stretched out before him. “Why do you think I’ve been keeping you around?”

“I’m good at demo.”

“You’re passable at demo. You’re excellent at hostage.”

That was cruel, but that was Kaz. And the Barrel was a far rougher teacher than Kaz could ever be. At least this explained why Kaz had been coddling Wylan and brought him on an insanely important job.

The plan in Y/N’s head tilted sideways. Wylan was a hostage. Van Eck was paying Kaz for this heist. He lied to her. Not directly, but he withheld the information. 

The bastard continued to make his point of Wylan not really being fit for this line of work. Jesper sat silently with a dazed look in his eyes while Wylan looked like a kicked puppy. Y/N felt uneasy about the whole situation. 

“Since Wylan has seen the Ice Court with his very own eyes,” Kaz spoke, “he can keep you honest, Helvar.”

The Fjerdan scowled furiously, and Wylan looked a little ill.

“Don’t worry,” Nina said. “The glower isn’t lethal.”

Kaz tapped his cane on the polished wood floor. “Take out your pen and proper paper, Wylan. Let’s put Helvar to work.”

Wylan reached into the satchel that sat between the sharpshooter and himself. He pulled out a slender roll of butcher’s paper followed by a metal case that held an expensive-looking pen and ink set. 

“Start talking,” Kaz said to the Fjerdan. “It’s time to pay the rent.”

Matthias directed his furious gaze at Kaz. Definitely a mighty glower. It was almost fun to watch him pit it against Kaz’s sharklike stare.

Finally, the Fjerdan shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and said, “The concentric circles, like the rings of a tree.” The words came slowly, as if speaking each one was causing him pain.

The merchling and Fjerdan went back and forth on describing the Ice Court, each one fact checking and correcting the other. They explained each level of defence and the coordinating colored protical. Where the prison cells were and where they’d most likely find Bo Yul-Bayur.

“Hringkalla is coming up,” Nina said suddenly.

“Be silent,” Matthias snapped.

“Pray, don’t,” said Kaz.

“Hringkalla. It’s the Day of Listening, when the new druskelle are initiated on the White Island.” Y/N spoke up.

Matthias’ knuckles flexed white. “You have no right to speak of those things. They’re holy.”

“They’re facts. The Fjerdan royals throw a huge party with guests from all over the world, and plenty of the entertainment comesstraight from Ketterdam.”

“Entertainment?” Kaz asked.

“Actors, dancers, a Komedie Brute troupe, and the best talent from the pleasure houses of West Stave.” 

“I thought Fjerdans didn’t go in for that sort of thing,” said Jesper.

Nina’s lips quirked. “You’ve never seen Fjerdan soldiers on the Staves?”

“I meant when they’re at home,” Jesper said.

“It’s the one day a year they all stop acting so miserable and actually let themselves have a good time,” Nina replied. “Besides, “only the druskelle live like monks.”

Matthias and the heartrender kept going back and forth, each picking and poking with their words, trying to get a reaction out of each other. Y/N rolled her eyes at the pair in both annoyance and a teasing manner.

“When does this party take place?” Kaz interrupted.

“It’s seasonal,” Nina said, “on the spring equinox.”

“Two weeks from today.” noted Y/N.

Kaz cocked his head to one side, his eyes focused on something in the distance.

“Scheming face,” Jesper whispered to Y/N.

She nodded. “Definitely.”

Kaz inquired about the White Rose sending any delegations. Nina replied, saying she didn’t know anything.

Kaz leaned back. “What’s the easiest way to steal a man’s wallet?”

“Knife to the throat?” Y/N asked.

“Gun to the back?” said Jesper.

“Poison in his cup?” suggested Nina.

“You’re all horrible,” said Matthias.

Kaz rolled his eyes. “The easiest way to steal a man’s wallet is to tell him you’re going to steal his watch. You take his attention and direct it to where you want it to go.” He continued to explain how Hringkalla will do the job for them. They’ll take advantage of the chaos that is hosting such a large gathering of people. “They can’t be looking everywhere at once.” He started to construct his plan of them sneaking into the prison as criminals. 

“Let me get this straight,” said Jesper. “You want us to let the Fjerdans lock us up in jail. Isn’t that what we’re always trying to avoid?”

“Criminal identities are slippery. It’s one of the perks of being a member of the troublemaking class. They’ll be counting heads at the prison gate, looking at names and crimes, not checking passports or examining embassy seals.”

“Because no one wants to go to pricon,” Jesper said.

Nina rubbed her hands over her wrists, “I don’t want to be locked up in a Fjerdan cell.” Y/N nodded her agreement. 

Kaz flicked his sleeve, and two slender rods of metal appeared between his fingers. They danced over his knuckles then vanished once more. 

“Lockpicks?” Y/N asked.

“You let me take care of the cells,” said Kaz.

“Hit where the mark isn’t looking,” mused the inferni.

“That’s right,” nodded Kaz. “And the Ice Court is like any other mark, one big white pigeon ready for the plucking.”

Anticipation mixed with fear and excitement settled in the room as Y/N looked around at the other crows. 

Matthias folded his huge arms and said, “You have no idea what you’re up against.”

“But you do, Helvar. I want you working on the plan of the Ice Court every minute until we sail. Mo detail is too small or inconsequential. I’ll be checking on you regularly.”

Y/N traced her fingers over the rough sketch Wylan drew out. “It really does look like the rings of a tree.”

“No,” said Kaz. “It looks like a target.”

[percysoddity]

Robin is staring at a wall. Specifically her bedroom wall, not just a random one, so it’s not that weird, not as strange as it could be. At least that’s what she’s decided to tell herself. It’s a justification, it doesn’t have to be a good one.

Truth be told, her reason is good enough anyway, she doesn’t need any of the bull-shitty excuses she’s coming up with by force of habit; her world has been turned upside down. Frighteningly literally, apparently.

Just over a month or so, the shiny new mall in Hawkins ‘burnt down’, see: Robin walked into her own kidnapping by evil Russians with Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington and narrowly escaped with her life, only to immediately witness terrifying flesh monsters raze the new Jewel of Hawkins; the ‘Battle of Starcourt’, as the kids have taken to calling it, when they actually bring it up. Which in Robin’s opinion, happens a little too often and too casually based on the way it derails her entire day at the reminder.

It’s also been just under a month or so since she’s got more than an hour of sleep at a time (on account of the horrifying nightmares and such), and she can feel how much it’s showing. Who knew sleep deprivation makes your hair feel greasy and your skin feel clammy, no matter how long you shower, and how much soap you burn through? Though that may be a side-effect of the torture.

Maybe the drugs are still running rampant through her system. Surely not. Did they even wash that needle between her and Steve’s doses? Were there different needles? She can’t remember. Fuck, it’s all fuzzy. Her vision now is fuzzy.

Her wallpaper is peeling a bit.

Robin can tell she’s spiralling. Her head hurts. If she were talking to someone, the word-vomit would’ve started about half an hour ago, no end in sight. Hmm. Maybe that would help. Actually getting the thoughts out of her head into the air. But, of course, she can’t just talk to her parents down the hall, the copious amounts of government-issued paperwork ensured that, no matter whether they’d even believe her or not. Hell, if she weren’t so painfully aware that it’d prove her insanity, Robin would be talking to her shelf of stuffed animals.

The wallpaper isn’t stuck on properly, there are little bubbles in the wall.

It’s just that the world almost ended a month ago . And apparently it’s the third time that’s happened?! And that’s just in Hawkins. How many times has the world almost ended in New York? Movies liked to start the end there. San Francisco? Italy? Russia ? Robin can feel the centrifugal force of her brain spinning like a goddamn record. Her skull is due to pop at any second.

She imagines popping her wall-bubbles with a pin. Maybe she can find a poster to stick up over them. Too bad that music store burnt down with literally everything else in the mall. Like the Russian Base .

Robin takes a shaky breath in what feels like hours. It isn’t the first time she’s accidentally held her breath—waiting for Steve to move as he was strapped to her back, trying to stay as still as possible so she could tell if he was breathing or not, then waiting for his disgust to show after she told him , and way before it all, hearing about Barb’s—

Anyway. Maybe she actually got out of this hellhole.

God, Steve. Steve . Steve Harrington is her work-friend. Though now, they can probably say they’re something more. Torture-mate? Drug(ged)-buddy? Comrade? Fighting-interdimensional-monsters-and-burning-down-our-previous-place-of-work friends? Maybe surprisingly-successful-and-heartwarming-coming-out-on-icky-and-disgusting-bathroom-floors-after-puking-truth-serum-out-of-our-collective-systems-friends.

Robin’s lip twitches. The trials and tribulations of Steve-and-Robin is starting to sound dangerously close to a recipe for ‘best-friends’. She starts to feel almost pleasantly warm at the thought, but she internally bursts into laughter when the term ‘soulmates’ pops into her head.

Her eyes are on the verge of finally coming into focus when—

Tap, tap .

Holy shit. They’ve found her.

Robin’s entire body seizes up and she can’t make herself turn around to face her window and the noise coming from the other side. The Russians. Steve had told them Dustin’s full name and description. It isn’t too much of a stretch to think they found him then found Steve , then found their other prisoner who ruined their base and got them all fucked up by the American government. They’re here, and they want her to pay .

The blood rushing in her ears and shuddering frame distracted her long enough that she missed the first few muffled words, coming from the same direction. They sounded frantic.

“—shit, Robin! It’s me!”

That motherfucking dingus.

Whipping her head around, Robin glares through the glass, trying to disguise the fact that her vision’s still a little double.

“Steve?! What the hell are you doing here? My parents are literally in the next room !” She hisses, wrenching open her window. God, he looks like shit. Literally.

(It’s almost funny).

The swelling in his eye and mouth has gone down, but the bruising all over his face has taken on a gross yellowy-brown, green shadows here and there. If it weren’t his face , Robin might consider it almost ‘artistic’. His pyjama pants look like he’s worn them for a very long walk in the woods, or perhaps a trek through her back garden, and he’s pushed the sleeves of his garish yellow sweater up past his elbows, like he needed the extra movement to manoeuvre through the rose bushes. Thank God she doesn’t live in a double-story house like Steve, he’s in no condition to be performing any of his usual Romeo-wannabe stunts.

Steve doesn’t answer her, just heads straight to her bed, kicking off his sneakers and shaking his arms so his sleeves fall down as he goes. It’s as if he’s moving on muscle memory. Biology and psychology or whatever hasn’t been one of the subjects of Robin's obsession before, but she’s pretty sure that muscular habits take a little longer than maybe three irregular occasions before the action’s set in stone. Even so, she finds herself climbing in after him without making the decision to. Before he even fully stretches out his arms to beckon her in. Maybe habits can be formed in no time at all. Maybe they’ve already fallen into a rhythm.

By nature of Robin’s itty-bitty (twin sized!) mattress, they’re forced to curl into each other, opting to wring their hands together, tangling their fingers and legs in tandem. In their past sleepovers, they’ve had a little more difficulty finding comfortable positions, what with Steve’s bludgeoned brain and body, but with his snail-pace healing going on, they’ve managed to work around it much easier lately. Robin wedges herself in, head resting over his left arm on the bed and her left hand clasped in his right. If you ignore Robin’s fist in Steve’s obnoxious yellow sweater and her leg hooked around his knee (and the fact they’re in bed ), it’s like they haven’t let go after a bro-y handshake. It fits. They fit. Robin watches Steve’s eyes flutter closed (he can actually open his left one now!).

Robin giggles, unbidden. Steve Harrington is in her bed, and she isn’t even throwing up about it! Steve seems to understand her sentiment and rolls his eyes behind his closed eyelids.

And suddenly they’re still. Settled. Well, they should be, but Robin’s still Robin, and she can’t stand the quiet for more than a second unless she’s already unconscious (which she hasn’t been doing very often lately). Weirdly enough, even with his obvious exhaustion, Steve doesn’t seem bothered by her inevitable interruption. He seems to expect it:

“Steve?”

“Mmm?”

She squeezes his hand softly. He squeezes back.

“You didn’t answer my question. Did you… have a nightmare, or something?”

read on ao3

[jmagnabo92]

Oooo if you're taking writing requests I want Fluffy new parents prongsfoot watching baby Harry sleep on his first night with them. I'll let you choose how they had him but only they're his parents

Thanks for the ask, sorry it's taken so long!

Hope you like it :)

***

It’d been a long drawn-out labor for Sirius, well actually, being a woman just so they could have their son was something that felt long and drawn out as well, but still, it’s worth it as he (now back to being a man) stands with James’ arms around his waist over their sleeping baby boy. 

“You did wonderful, love,” James whispers in his ear.  “He’s utterly perfect.”

“We did, James.  I didn’t do it all alone,” Sirius assures him.  “You were so wonderful throughout the entire pregnancy.” 

“I had to make sure it was as easy as I could possibly make it.”

Sirius understands exactly what James is trying to say.  He thought the world of Sirius ever since he told him that he’d be willing to put himself through being a woman for however long it took to get pregnant and throughout the pregnancy.  He had spent the whole-time pampering Sirius, who was delighted that his husband was so focused on him. 

It had made things a lot easier on Sirius, and he didn’t think he could’ve dealt with the pregnancy without James’ support. 

Now they’re here, and Harry looks just like his father – like James – except with Sirius’ eyes.  He’s going to be a little troublemaker, Sirius just knows it, but right now, he’s their little angel and he couldn’t be happier. 

“I love you, James, and I couldn’t have done it without you.  So, it’s we, and if you really feel bad, then we can have you do it for the next one.”

James grins.  “You literally just had our son yesterday; you’re already thinking about another one?”

Sirius smiles, looking down at their son.  “Well, he is an angel, isn’t he?  So perfect…”

“He’s sleeping, Si.  Of course he’s perfect right now.”  James kisses his cheek.  “Then, again.  We could end up with a perfect angel.  Just like his Paddy.”

Sirius chuckles, softly, careful not to wake their son.  “I don’t think there’s anyone who would agree with you on that, but you’re sweet.”

He gives James a kiss.

“Come on, time to go to bed.”

“Can’t we just … keep watching?” James asks, eyes big and hopeful.

Sirius shakes his head.  “As much as I would love that, he’ll be awake sooner rather than later and we should… get the sleep while we can.”

“You’re right,” James admits and gives him a kiss.  “Come on, let’s go to bed.”

Sirius let’s James lead the way out of their son’s room, casting one last look at their baby, he thinks at least he’ll have many more nights to watch over him, “Until tomorrow, my love.  Good night, sweet dreams.”

***

[hunter-sylvester]

I honestly feel bad for Hunter. Having neglectful parents suck, I can see why he’s so attached to Kevin. Especially considering they’ve been friends since third grade (I think). I’d be scared if my friend started running off with some chick too tbh. Because now it’s not just us anymore.

[although Hunter still has Robbie, I love Robbie]

You and me both, Anon 💔 [prev ask for context]

And you’re preaching to the choir about neglectful parents lmao there’s a reason I relate to him so heavily. More like about a million reasons but that’s beside the point.

I agree and I definitely think it plays a very large part. Even the band’s name changing is symbolic of that loss of the illusion of them that Hunter was living under. I didn’t touch on it much in the previous analysis because I was trying to stay focused on his parental issues. But when discussing his attachment to Kevin in any way it’d be an oversight to ignore the fact that Hunter is in love with him. Dare I say canonically.

“When I first got the script, the first thing which popped out to me was that Hunter seemed like he was in love with Kevin.” – Adrian Greensmith

It's how Adrian played Hunter. It's as close to canon as it can be without it being in the script.

Although I do not think that it's entirely necessary to accept him being in love with Kevin for the following to make sense, it does enrich it imo.

So in my mind he subconsciously believes that Kevin and he are something. Something more than simply best friends. Not that he’s able to realize that. He automatically pushes everything down the second he feels it. Unless it's anger, of course. [emotional regulation issues | father]

You can see him repress his emotions so clearly here.

And yeah, the bandname. In the same scene, we get a quote I always read entirely too much into love to analyze deeply. Watch how he says it. It means way more to him than it should.

Skullfucker is them. It's Kevin & Hunter. It's his idea of them and their future. Of touring and performing together. Of striding into adulthood together.

His preceding "You can't. You can't-" is him practically begging Kevin not to abandon him. [abandonment issues | mother]

"You can't leave me because we are Skullfucker. Skullfucker is us. You can't break us. You can't throw me away, you were supposed to be the one that doesn't throw me away because we're us. You can't break Skullfucker."

It makes sense that Skullfucker is quite a 'strong' and over-the-top, even violent name. It's everything Hunter wants to project outward to protect himself and what he has with Kevin. Aside: it changing to Skullflower, which has a softer connotation while still befitting a metal band, can easily be read as symbolic of Hunter being forced to learn it's okay to be vulnerable as well. But that'd be a tangent and a half.

Kevin is shattering his entire world in the scene. He's taking a fucking sledgehammer to it.

"You need me a lot more than I need you. Without me all of your dumb fantasies disappear. But without you I might actually live a real life." - Kevin Schlieb

"Dumb fantasies" can be read as the more obvious. Namely, their band making it big while Hunter has to make zero compromises to his vision. Or there is the arguably more painful version. Hunter's dumb fantasy is them. Them together. Them being anything. Which certainly all falls apart without Kevin.

Aside: I wish to note that while I think Kevin makes a good number of painfully accurate points during this fight, I don't think he means all of it at his core. It's said in the heat of the moment and should thus be taken with a grain of salt. "You need me a lot more than I need you. Without me all of your dumb fantasies disappear." These lines I view as painfully accurate. "But without you I might actually live a real life." This one I think is not to be taken entirely at face value. It is said in anger with the intention to hurt in my opinion. And it works. But it's not what Kevin actually thinks.

He lashes out after this. As it's the only way he knows how to deal with anything and it beats having to examine why this is shattering his very being. [emotional regulation issues | father]

Aside: let it not be thought that I in any way condone his actions leading up to this scene. While the speech class scene is my favorite scene in the movie, Hunter's actions in it towards Emily are inexcusable. And the consequences that follow are something he brought upon himself.

There is also a case to be made for this being an example of or affected by Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, as I view all the members of Skullflower as being AuDHD (ADHD + Autistic).

But to circle back to Kevin running off with Emily...yeah. Of course that shatters him. Kevin is the only person that he feels safe around and on top of that he's in love with him.

His bubble of safety and his presumption that Kevin is his are turned to dust before his eyes and he doesn't even know why it's hitting him as hard as it is.

Also yes, they have indeed been best friends since third grade.

"Hunter's been my best friend ever since he stopped Molly Levine from pulling out my hair in third grade" - Kevin Schlieb

And yes, Robbie rules. We love Robbie in this household. I love that he's someone Hunter can also lean on. Even if it does have to be through very heavy projection.

And a hug. You can't fault a good hug.

I will emphasize tho, he never actually loses Kevin.

He couldn't. The way in which he thought he lost Kevin was a way he never had him to begin with. Kevin is still his best friend, still his bandmate and still someone who is safe and who is there for him. Kevin was just angry at him (and for good reason, let's be real). But he wasn't actually abandoning him. Hunter only felt like he did. [abandonment issues | mother]

Look no further than the fact he broke him out of Rehab. He came back for him because that is what Kevin does. Even if he gets mad, even if they fight, even if Hunter acts entirely out of line, Kevin is never gone. Never lost.

There will be consequences, absolutely. But he'd have to do a lot worse to actually lose Kevin for real. Tune in next time, where I will explain why Hunter and Kevin's relationship fits a BDSM bratting dynamic /j ANYWAY-

I do think their relationship is special. Just not necessarily in a way that involves kissing, unfortunately for Hunter.

Thank you so much for asking, Anon 🤘 If you are the same Anon from last time, then thank you again. I enjoy going on these incomprehensible rants and I'm massively thankful for being asked about my special interest like this. It's very nice ^-^

[destinygoldenstar]

The Island Apocalypse Theory (Total Drama Island 2023 is a plot for world domination)

“Now lets meet the victims-I mean CAMPERS.” -Chris McLean

Yeah, that sums up this entire show.

So you all know how you feel about the reboot by this point. Either you love it or you don’t. But you know what the worst thing about the season is?

OTHER than Ripper.

OTHER than Episode 5.

OTHER than Chris’ new voice.

It’s the plot hole of HOW THE F IS WAWANAKWA BACK?!

We saw the island sink in All Stars and that’s why Paketiew took place in a new robot island… thing. 

You would think there would be an explanation for this of any sort, even if it’d be a stupid one-

Nope. It’s just back. Don’t question it. 

It’s easy to just dismiss this and move on, call it something like ‘bad writing’.

But if you know me, you know I DON’T leave it at that. And I’m here to tell you that NO. This decision was NOT bad writing, as I wholeheartedly trust Fresh TV’s executives and their ability to fix what’s so obviously broken! (This sentence is complete sarcasm)

So I am here to exploit that the lack of explanation was INTENTIONAL, and is build up towards something outrageously huge as the climax of all of Total Drama! You see, Wawanakwa NEVER sank in the first place. Chris faked the whole thing.

It is the main base of Chris McLean’s ultimate plan to brainwash the entire world and start the zombie robot apocalypse.

AXEL KNEW.

So here is THE ISLAND APOCALYPSE THEORY:

(This is me rambling something stupid. Do not take this seriously. It’s not legit… or is it?)

We need to take this theory all the way back to All Stars. In the finale of the season, due to hot springs Chris placed, the entirety of Wawanakwa sank at the bottom of the sea. Thats exactly they moved to Paketiew to make that season possible. But we’re gonna save that for later.

Let me tell you why the island sinking in the first place is BS. (Other than on a writing standpoint)

You see, realistically, islands are created from volcanic eruptions from the sea. Therefore, made of molten rock. Hot springs are NOT volcano related, actually. The only way an island can sink is if it is dissolved by erosion. However, this takes MILLIONS of years, and obviously that's not the case here. In fact there are multiple islands wit hot springs that stay in tact perfectly fine. So already, there's NO WAY the island could actually sink by artificial hot springs.

If god can't do it, McLean certainly can't either.

But lets say Wawanakwa is a floating island. Okay... my point still stands. If that were the case, the island would tear apart and separate across the sea in chunks. It would NOT sink. If they said "The Island is being torn apart", then it would make sense. But no, that's not what happened.

You get my point. Wawanakwa NEVER sank. There's no way in hell it could.

BUT WAIT, you may be wondering, if the island never sank, why did the island sink on TV?

You can blame one specific person: Chris McLean, THE most evil character in all of Canadian TV. I'm not joking.

Chris McLean is not only the host of the show, but he is also the executive who has taken over everything. It all started with executives hiring him just for a cute little gig... but then they realized they gave him way to much power, and by that point there was nothing they could do to stop the inevitable.

Chris made a CGI version of the show, and cut off the reality at the very moment the sword was pulled out by Mike (or Zoey).

That sword was the moment the cameras were cut.

From there, it was the perfect illusion so that nobody could find out what came of Chris after that, and what he did to everyone on that island.

As for those people on the island, Mike, Zoey, Gwen, Cameron, Heather, and Alejandro, they have... an unfortunate fate. But I'll get to that later.

Fifteen years later, we have no clue of Chris McLean's backstory or why he does what he does. We don't know where this man came from.

Maybe that's why we don't know the true motivations behind his plans for world domination.

Chris could've just been a hotshot egocentric celebrity and that's the end of is character. And he would be one of the nicer celebrities out there. BUT NO. He's not just cocky. He's not just a sociopath. He's not just a victim of bad writing from Revenge onward.

This man, from the very beginning, is straight up EVIL.

So what is his plan?

He plans to use Total Drama to brainwash the entire world and start a robot apocalypse with himself as the only survivor.

It's where the parody angle of Survivor comes in.

That's right. From the VERY BEGINNING, this has been Chris McLean's motive, and this is how it all started.

We know that Chris did not fund the show at first. That was a bunch of executives. In fact, they had Blaineley in mind for the role of the host. And as much as we all hate Blaineley, she probably should've accepted the job. By refusing the job, she just gave power to somebody who is going to destroy everything.

So yeah, you can blame Blaineley for the death of humanity.

Did Blaineley know they were gonna hire Chris if she didn't accept the role? No. There's no hint that she knew. She's pretty much oblivious. BUT, it makes her role in World Tour justified, as during her elimination, she tried to explain her POV on the subject matter, and she gets cut off by Chris shoving her off a plane.

She also so happens to crash badly and break every bone in her body so she can't speak. OOPS, WHAT A TOTAL ACCIDENT ON CHRIS'S PART. GUESS SHE CAN'T SPILL ANYTHING THAT WOULD EXPLOIT CHRIS'S TRUE INTENTIONS.

Also a bear gnaws on her head in Episode 24... she has memory loss now. That's why she's wearing pink in Ridonculous Race. Yes Ridonculous Race is important.

So now Chris is the host of Total Drama on a deserted Island, and he has the support of the network for funding.

Perfect.

He's already gained his base of operation for his plan, and is already starting the prototypes of his robot creations. How do I know this?

You know the animals in Island. They seem to have way more personality than animals should, considering animals aren't sentient. (Or are they?)

We as an audience, watching a cartoon, can perceive this as normal cartoon antics. And that's what Chris wants you to think so you don't see that these animals are actually robotically brainwashed by cheap devices.

I say cheap because there's a bit in Episode 6 with the Screaming Gophers and a bear. Izzy found a costume and scared her teams for the LOLS. How did she know where to find a bear costume?? (Yep. Izzy isn't crazy. She is vital to this. (And you know what video I am referencing.)) It's obvious to say she's just crazy and this is a gag and she's totally not onto Chris. And Chris totally didn't realize she was onto him and shut her up by trying to kill her.

Oh yeah, and there's also the real bear that Owen found. When Owen ripped off that hair on the bear, and the bear acts normally again. He freed that bear from Chris's control. Chris had to replant that hair after the episode to hide things.

Where even is Chris’s base of operations for all of this? How about that reveal in the Island Special where it was revealed the island wasn’t actually an Island?! THAT WOULD BE A GOOD BASE.

And now the big thing: The contestants. The Gen 1 cast. (And soon, the Gen 2 cast are gonna be in the same category) They are Chris's first victims of his plot.

I went into depth about how this cast becomes exploited on TV and how the show is an allegory on how reality shows and fame can corrupt someone as gullible as teenagers. Even with this theory, that's still relevant. These teenagers are getting screwed up mentally by the show.

This is exactly what Chris wants. Chris takes teenagers, slaps stereotypes onto them, and puts them in front of the camera to brainwash them into being the perfect little robots for is propaganda. I went into depth before on some of the characters individually and how this relates to them, but if I went into everyone, we'd be here all day and Tumblr doesn't provide a hundred tags in a post.

The Gen 1 cast became his victims most obviously. Even when they're not in the game, they can't leave. They're stuck in a resort, or they're stuck in Aftermath. Aftermath is a prison disguised as a TV program. They're not brainwashed magically, YET, but they are psychologically raised to be contestants.

You know the story, Chris scams the victors of Island into giving up the money so everyone can participate in Action.

Huh. Action takes place on an abandoned film lot. A lot full of equipment to create the perfect film plot to take over the editing of the show. HUH. I'M SURE THAT'S JUST A COINCIDENCE.

So Chris has his materials, and now he needs the International influence to get in a good enough position to start his plan in full motion. This is why he does World Tour and welcomes two new cast members. You know, it's just a little experiment. You know, one's an uber fan of his, there's nothing going on here.

There's also the matters of villains in the show that Chris frames. I still think it's framing, but Heather and Alejandro are vital villains in all of this. Villains that CHRIS created for the show. Notice I didn't mention Courtney, who sued her way onto the show and threatened Chris's power. She doesn't count. That's why she's on the Heroes team in All Stars at first. If Chris framed Courtney as a villain off the bat, someone who threatened HIS image, it would make HIM look bad.

But back to Heather and Alejandro, I've denied that Chris rigged the game so Heather could move on. But I'd like to apologize because you guys might be right. Heather just wasn't aware of this and thought she was smart. Alejandro as well is being rigged into being a finalist because Chris just so happened to disqualify Sierra for an accident. Yeah that was coincidental. Totally.

Heather and Alejandro, right off the bat, become Chris's pawns to get people's attention on his show. In fact EVERY character Chris plans to use for this, are people who either ARE villains, or are forced to be in some way. Owen, Duncan, and Gwen. Two of them become Vultures. These characters are important.

Also speaking of a robot apocalypse, what happened to Alejandro at the end of World Tour, that Chris put him through?

OH. RIGHT.

By the time of Revenge, Chris is in a comfortable position to expand his playing field and add new cast members in to expand on his army-I mean TV show. So enter Gen 2.

Gen 2 is also in the category of being Chris's victims. They also share the same fate as the Gen 1 cast that I will get to.

The only character who has any ability in THIS cast to realize what’s going on is Dawn. She got cut off when she tried to exploit the enemy among them. BY CHRIS.

In that episode, you can assume she was going to talk about Scott, which would make sense...

BUT we NEVER actually hear what she was ACTUALLY going to say.

She could’ve very well been trying to exploit Chris. THAT’S why Chris cut Dawn off.

This cast gets to see what has come of Wawanakwa and what Chris has been doing with the radioactive waste. Obviously, this is a basis of Chris's plot out in the open and being exploited. It is HERE. Right in THIS SEASON, where Chris planned originally to start it all and start his world domination and the apocalypse he so desired.

He's turned Ezekiel into a zombie. He's turned Dakota into a monster. He's on it...

And then the police show up.

Yeah Chris's plan gets foiled here. That's why he's gone mad in prison thinking he failed.

But he still had a pawn up his sleeve to save him and get his plan into full force: Chef.

You'd think that since Chef is with Chris through and through, that Chris had brainwashed him too, right?

NO.

Chef knew this and was on board with Chris’s plan due to equal pay.

BUT Chef is starting to have doubts and is going to have a full blown redemption arc.

So Chef is someone who used to be in a war. We know that much. He also seems to recognize Izzy who has similar combat training to him. Huh...

It’s almost like they knew each other in that war!

I don’t think Izzy was in the military, if she was alive she was a baby most likely. So maybe she was part of the war crossfire and Chef is her savior, and she KNOWS Chris’s plan, thus is disgusted by Chef’s choice to side with Chris. 

Or another way, Izzy mentions reincarnation in Action. Does she know her past life and it was with Chef?

When Chef thinks he kills her in Episode 2 of that season, he says, “Not again...”

Did Izzy DIE in this war Chef was in?

More importantly, what was this war about?

Why does Area 52 have Aliens in them? Why is Chris okay with taking teenagers here?! Are the Aliens related to Chris?! Is Chris an alien, and that’s why he’s doing this?! (Probably not, but maybe)

ALSO, the challenge was to retrieve an artifact from the aliens! I WONDER WHAT CHRIS NEEDS THAT FOR! OMG ‘THE EX FILES’ IS THE MOST PLOT IMPORTANT EPISODE IN ALL OF TOTAL DRAMA...

Also wow Gwen. You gave Chris what he needed to destroy everything and everyone you love... 

Gwen ruins everything.

Oh gosh now I have to talk about Dramarama even if I've never actually watched it and never will... here we go.

SO, Dramarama as Chef as a babysitter of daycare of toddlers that so happen to be the Gen 1 cast.

Dramarama is not canon. But it IS canon at the same time. Here’s why:

The show itself? Dramarama? That’s fake. That was set up by Chris. This is ALL CGI, and a part of Chris’s scheme to brainwash people to consuming his content and act as a smoke screen for his crimes. 

But the Chef part. I think he actually DID work at a daycare, just NOT with the OG cast as the toddlers he cared for. REAL toddlers, those are what Chef cared for. This is where Chris pulled Chef out from the gutter and got Chef to work with him for a better life. No more war. No more babies. No more loud noises. There would be nothing but order and proper service if Chef joined the dark side.

And Chef is all about order and service, so yeah. See DJ stepping out of line, Chef’s gonna try and get him, and when DJ quits Action, the animal curse is a punishment to get him involved anyway.

Dramarama, though Chris’s reference for this smoke screen show, is also a factor in why Chef acts... nicer in the reboot. That show is one of Chris’s mistakes that will lead to his downfall in his plan in the reboot’s new season(s?). Chris exploited memories Chef had and what they have DONE to the teenagers in these toddler roles. It really makes a man think. 

That’s why in the reboot, if my theory is correct, Chef is going to be the driving force of the rebellion, and turn on Chris McLean in a redemption arc for him.

That stare in the reboot intro ain’t a couple stare. That’s a light side vs dark side stare.

Also going back to these toddlers... they are also robots. No getting around that. But they are also the people Chris TARGETS to brainwash into his robots as his generals.

Did he succeed with all of them? NO. He did not. I will get to these people who didn’t.

BUT that leads me to the casts: The OG cast, the Revenge cast, and the Paketiew cast.

What happened to them?

I hate to break the news to you, but the OG and Revenge cast... they don’t feel so good.

It is safe to assume that if the island didn’t sink, but Mike, Zoey, Gwen, Cameron, Heather, and Alejandro were on it at the time, then they have ALL become the first victims of Chris’s robotic plans for them to start his apocalypse.

These six characters have been KIDNAPPED, and forcefully brainwashed into robots to serve Chris. You wonder where the interns are in the reboot. THESE characters. They’re the interns now. That’s why Chris killed the interns from the executives.

Is that what Blaineley was talking about?! How many people did Chris MURDER to make this happen?!

Mike, Zoey, Gwen, Cameron, Heather, and Alejandro have all turned into mindless slaves, and are on their way to destroy everything. We have NOT heard anything from these characters and what happened to them. So yeah. They’re goners. 

Since All Stars is two years since Island and the reboot is fifteen years since island...

Yeah. THIRTEEN YEARS. This show just got a lot darker.

Have these characters aged? I don’t know. The Winter Soldier didn’t age when he was brainwashed, and the brainwashing I’m thinking of is similar to this, so...

We might not actually have thirty year olds if we see them.

BUT WAIT, THESE ARE NOT THE ONLY CHARACTERS WHO HAVE BEEN TAKEN OVER.

Ezekiel and Dakota, I think it’s safe to say they’re been taken over as well. They’re failed experiments of Chris’s plan A, and he can’t risk anything.

There’s also the All Stars cast in general who were flushed. Chris designed the toilet. He has control of it. He can very easily take over all these characters once they’ve outlived their usefulness. (I mean what else are these balloons for other than to imprison them to be brainwashed later?)

So that’s Mike, Zoey, Gwen, Cameron, Heather, Alejandro, Ezekiel, Dakota, Lindsay, Lightning, Jo, Sam, Sierra, Courtney, and Scott almost certainly captured.

Am I missing somebody from All Stars?????? Eh, I can’t think of anyone. (I’ll get to this.)

And there’s one person we can add to the certainty pile and that is Izzy.

Why? Again, Izzy KNEW. She found out about Chris’s plan right away, and acted crazy to keep him from catching on that she knew. She was going to use the show to make a plan to stop this. 

Whether or not her methods of doing so make her the good guy of an evil madman is up to you. 

Point is, her plan failed. Chris realized she knew, and had to get her out of the picture. How does he do that?

Simple. Spend the money on the hot tub and crash the plane, making Izzy get brain damage from the impact. Therefore, she can’t process herself, and she’s gone as a threat.

But is she really?

In this same episode she talks about making a time machine.

HUH. I WONDER IF THAT’S FORESHADOWING A PLOT POINT ON HOW TO DEFEAT CHRIS.

She also makes a cameo in All Stars and sees through Mal. It’s safe to say she’s been taken over. 

How did Chris even get camera’s in Mike’s head anyway?

Was Mal Chris’s original creation for his robots? Did Mal sacrifice his sanity to save Mike with the split personality?! (Well the MPD in this show is offensive either way, but for the theory’s sake, let not)

I don’t think Mike won guys...

But wait, how did Chris even get this tech, let alone perfected it?

Paketiew Island.

Here is the craziest part about this entire theory. We know Paketiew Island is a robot island made by Chris that hosts a ton of robots, almost explicitly designed for an apocalypse.

Chris filmed his OWN PLAN as a plot device to brainwash everyone into thinking the plot itself was fake and wouldn’t happen years later.

He used Dramarama to grasp that concept to the audience to shut their brains off further so they don’t question it.

This is LITERALLY the effect of that scene from the LEGO Movie.

“Wait did he just say PUT TO SLEEP?!”

“Tonight on ‘Where Are My Pants?”

“What was I just thinking? I don’t care.”

But wait, wouldn’t the Paketiew campers, who have seen this, be onto Chris anyway?

Yeah. They would.

IF THEY EXISTED.

(NOW I think I’ve lost you all)

You know WHY the Paketiew campers are SO unrealistic?! It’s because they are CGI models Chris designed to exist ONLY in that season and be used as placeholders for his propaganda. 

Yes. You heard me right. EVERY MEMBER OF THE PAKETIEW ISLAND CAST DOES NOT EXIST.

AT BEST, they are already turned robots who are spies for Chris McLean on approaching their master plan. Maybe they are teenagers who did exist and were kidnapped, BUT their personalities in Paketiew Island are ALL FAKE. DESIGNED BY CHRIS.

The ONLY fragment that does is Leonard who appears in Ridonculous Race. But it’s easy to assume he’s CGI as well as Tammy who is his copy. They are both robots by Chris, and when Don realized this, he ditched them in the desert.

Speaking of Don, he just SO HAPPENS to have the same voice as Chris in the reboot! 

And in Action, Chris could also do accents. Huh, I wonder what his REAL voice this WHOLE TIME was.

And by the reboot, everything’s perfect and Chris doesn’t have to hide his voice anymore.

So wait, Don is Chris in disguise?! 

Or are these two RELATED?!

We don’t actually get Don’s last name, which is odd for a celebrity character in this show. Or did Don change his name to hide his identity from his evil twin?!

Don and Chris are identical twins, and Don is the good twin. Don is the one who may not have realized Chris’s plans before All Stars, but when Leonard comes in, he realizes what’s going on, and needs to use his race to make a team to put a stop to McLean.

Thankfully, he has two cops on his side, and members from Total Drama, such as Noah, Owen, and Geoff.

With this in mind, these three are certainly SAFE from Chris’s apocalypse for now. These guys have aged into their thirties, and are unsure what happened to the others. Noah’s introverted, and Owen has failed multiple times to be in contact with Total Drama anyway, so it’s safe to say these two are oblivious to what happened. Geoff’s major connection was Bridgette, and he would have PTSD if Bridgette was captured, so it’s safe to say Bridgette’s okay too.

So that’s four TD characters who are most certainly safe from Chris’s plans, and once they’ve figured out everything, they COULD return to try and stop this to defeat Chris once and for all. 

There’s A LOT of great characterization that could happen here with these guys, especially with their arcs in TD itself. Noah could finally get off his butt and be a scheming hero, Owen could get revenge for his mistreatment on the show, and Geoff could be THE mentor character with the knowledge on the show’s corruption. Lord knows a LOT of these reboot characters need that.

But there’s one more character I’m putting in the safe pile, and that is Duncan.

I WILL EXPLAIN RIGHT NOW.

YES, Duncan was in All Stars, and is in prison. Surely, if Chris had captured everyone else from the All Stars cast, he has his hands on Duncan too. 

And he would have. But I said, “Everyone who was FLUSHED”

What is the ONE non-finalist-appearance character in All Stars that did not go down the Flush of Shame? Duncan.

He didn’t get flushed because he was arrested. Chris arrested him and threw him in prison instead, as Chris wanted nothing to do with him.

Well that’s stupid on Chris’s part, right? Why not just brainwash Duncan then and there? Why go through that trouble? Especially when you keep the guy around and TRACK HIM DOWN WITH A TERRORIZING ROBOT.

Chris DID have an eye on Duncan, and WAS going to add Duncan to the brainwashing pile. After all, Duncan had everything Chris was going for, a rebellious teenager with great strength, street smarts, and skills in the crime area. He seemed like the perfect minion, right?

If he was actually loyal to Chris.

Red flags started when Duncan quit in World Tour, but the kick of the bucket was Duncan betraying Chris’s storyline for him. Chris FRAMED Duncan to become this redemption arc from villain to hero. His own criminal baby is now a good guy, therefore Chris is a good guy...

And then the burning of the house happens.

Yeah Duncan wasn’t gonna be loyal to Chris, and he could get away, SO... throw him in jail. No need for him anymore.

But that would end up being a BIG MISTAKE. ANOTHER factor in Chris’s eventual defeat.

By throwing Duncan in jail, Chris made it so that Duncan AVOIDS getting brainwashed into a robot and Chris’s slave for the apocalypse. Thus, a crafty delinquent got away, and is alive in a cell, and will be released to figure out what exactly Chris had done.

...whoops.

“I did NOT think that through!” -Storks

Oh yeah, also in Canada, someone who is charged for arson can spend at least 5 years in prison. BUT I would assume Chris would want Duncan locked up as long as possible, so the maximum of Duncan’s sentence would be ten years.

Going by my calculation, what is the gap between All Stars and the reboot?

Thirteen years.

That’s really close, and definitely enough time for Duncan to be grieving in PTSD and find out about the reboot happening.

Whether Duncan undergoes an actual redemption arc or becomes a full on villain who sides with Chris, is a completely different topic.

So we have a host and five characters who know about the upcoming apocalypse, and are prepared for Season Two. With the whole season out in one day, they are ready as ever to locate and strike.

And this very reboot, is Chris McLean’s climax to his plan. By this point, the ENTIRE WORLD is dependent on reality TV, and Total Drama. Evidence is from MULTIPLE characters in this reboot.

Priya’s parents are fans who gave birth to her so she could be on the show. Her whole life IS the show. 

Millie is spiteful of the current generation and their appeals. (She’s right, y’all are just mean)

Julia is a HUGE influencer with loads of fans who praise her for being a piece of garbage like Heather. She even enjoys the idea of being called a villain. She’s AWARE of the stereotype!

Damien’s friends influenced him to join the show, which means they are fans and are a part of the scheme. Damien is a precious puppy who is too pure and he needs to be protected at all costs.

Nichelle is a movie star who is a part of television.

And Axel.

Yeah, you KNOW Axel is vital to all of this.

Axel is a part of the military and is prepared for the apocalypse. She KNOWS what is about to happen. THIS is why she tried to take charge of her team and start a revolution before it’s too late. And Chris had to shut her up by rigging her elimination. Yes, her elimination was rigged, I’m convinced. 

I don’t know exactly what they plan to do with Axel, but it’s certainly important of a role she has. 

You KNOW she’s been onto Chris when she has a cardboard cutout of Shawn. SHAWN DOESN’T EXIST.

This cast is the very last step of Chris McLean’s plan. Now that they have the groundwork for a basic TD season, they are blindsighted, and now Chris can use this new season to take them over and start the apocalypse on the ENTIRE WORLD.

UNLESS, these teenagers are actually going to be the SAVIORS of everyone. And they’re gonna be the ones to defeat Chris McLean and set the old casts free to live out normal TV-free lives.

And they’re starting to become AWARE of their situation they’re in.

Damien is an obvious one as someone oblivious to the entire thing.

MK knows how to access the tech and can see things.

Julia’s fingers.

The robotics of certain challenges.

SEVERAL FORTH WALL BREAKING LINES:

“Wait, WE’RE on TV! Does that mean we’re not real?!” -Wayne, Episode 4

And basically this entire scene in Episode 9:

“What are teams? A bunch of people that compete against each other?”

“Yes.”

“No man, they’re friends. Being forced not to be friends. And I say enough of that!”

“Is there any way to speed this up?”

“I secretly join both alliances into one big seven person alliance, and we’re voting YOU off!”

Yeah, I’m sure that SOUNDS stupid of an idea to the others. AT FIRST. It totally won’t be an idea later. (I love Zee.)

So to set the groundwork on all of this, I can briefly go over who would be the saviors, and who wouldn’t. Cause not everyone will.

Already, Axel is on Don’s side. Like I said, her role is major enough that the show has to kick her out before she can do anything. She’s the one who’s prepared for this and is the biggest asset.

I feel like Nichelle could go either way, as she’s now revealed to be a fraud under TV, which is disgraceful. She could get her fame back, or she could find a different way to be a fighter.

Damien is not aware of the game, and decided he is here to stay. This is HIS time to be a competitor for an even bigger prize: safety for everyone. Again, Damien is precious.

MK... well she clearly has skills that can help, but she also probably won’t want to side with Don. She’s a thief who does her own thing. She’s only gonna want to look out for herself.

Zee... well, I already phrased the scene. This stoner character is gonna end up being the mad genius in the savior’s side.

Julia I feel is a definite Chris side and if she gets cancelled for TD, she’d willingly give Chris her brain. Her entire life is based on her social media following with how many phones she has, which plays a contributing factor for Chris. And she’s very much aware of villains in this show, and that she is a villain. That’s her only label now. 

Millie I feel like they’re setting a redemption arc for. Yes she hates our generation, but she’s also come to value her relationship with Priya. She’s getting character development. I feel like she’d be tempted by Chris, but she’d ultimately make the right choice and side with the rebels.

Bowie... yeah I love Bowie, but I feel like he’s gonna side with Chris.

It’s mostly because of this line:

“This challenge is definitely going to be my villain origin story.”

Whether or not Bowie is actually a villain is subjective. Personally, I think he has more dignity than Duncan. However, he is aware his actions are wrong, but he does them anyway because that’s how this world works. He can’t think about other people when so much is on the line. Course, he does care about people, Raj and Emma obviously, but though he’d probably give his crown to them, he isn’t giving everyone that privilege.

After the finale, he probably would side with Chris. But I don’t see him doing that with Raj in the picture, so I think it’s more likely this line is foreshadowing him getting captured and brainwashed into a robot. 

Kinda breaks my heart to split up the gays like this.

BUT if Raj isn’t brainwashed, he could be a factor of a “I know you’re in there” moment. That could be cute.

And lastly Priya. 

Yeah Priya’s the protagonist of the reboot. In the same vein as Gwen.

If my theory is in play, Season 2 would have a Hunger Games Catching Fire ending where the protag breaks the barrier separating them from the games and reality, and the rebels come to save half of them while the other half is captured by the bad guys. 

Priya’s entire life was Total Drama and winning it. Well, she did. Now what? Sure she could do the medical school she dreamed of, but once she realizes Chris won’t allow them to leave Total Drama, she’s gonna be having an identity crisis and a half.

(And also question her parents like seriously who gives birth on a mountain at their own free will?!)

I also think her friendship with Millie is important for both of their stories. Millie is aware of this generation’s setbacks, and would definitely be aware of the setbacks of the show. Priya wouldn’t. Or, at least, she’d have a hard time accepting that. That could be interesting drama.

It could also lead to really neat interactions with Noah, Owen, Geoff, Bridgette, and Duncan. And also Sanders and MacArthur would be a part of this because, you know, they’re cops, it’s their job to take care of this. It’s like the tributes from The Hunger Games Catching Fire, but they’re actually fleshed out characters. (No offense Hunger Games, I love you)

No matter what, Priya is an extremely vital character in this story, and is gonna be the bridge in between Total Drama and real world drama. 

My last point is that lets assume the reboot is structured like The Hunger Games. Book one was the game itself. Book two was the fallout after the game and the sequel game, ending with an escape. Book three is the rebellion and the apocalypse.

We know for a fact that the reboot is getting a second season. We have zero idea of a third season, and I think it depends on how well the two seasons do. (It looks like it’s doing really well from this season alone, so I have hopes)

This supposed third season would likely be the grand finale of Total Drama, which is NOT the game, but everyone trying to overthrow the game and rescue everybody from the REAL enemy. 

This is The Walking Dead, but with robots, and with a happier ending (because kids show, we can’t end the story with everyone dead after all).

I am not even a fan of zombie apocalypse stories, but it would be neat to see this shallow TV-brainwashed world fall apart and for people to get back up again and see what really matters. 

It would be a satisfying conclusion to ALL of the Total Drama generations.

And also get Chris a satisfying life sentence in jail. It’s what he deserves, if not worse.

Now, Total Drama MAYBE wouldn’t end with this, they could do an epilogue spinoff of all the generations adapting to normal life. Kinda like Steven Universe Future. But for the main story, I think it would solidify Total Drama as THE Survivor.

BUT HEY, THAT’S JUST A THEORY. A TOTAL DRAMA THEORY.

(This is likely never gonna happen, so don’t take anything here seriously)

[moth-like-habits]

Bad Boys people here you go! (540 words) ao3

“Hey fellas?” Joel is lying on their unnecessarily wide bed with his armor on (like a bad boy). There’s puffy white clouds passing across the early-evening sky in the same steady pace everything in this word seems to move at. There’s a persistent buzz almost, a consistent beat just barely perceptible. If you ask Joel, it’s kind of exhilarating. Or disturbing. One of the two.

“Yeah?” Jimmy turns from where he’s hanging out by the fishing pond. He’s taken off his boots to dip his feet in the water- probably to cool off from heat of the crackling fire burning the mansion below them. Joel can see Grian turn from sorting through their chests.

“If this whole building actually burns down I think I might be sad, boys” Jimmy immediately starts giggling at the pun and Grian barely holds back his smile as he sits down on the chest.

“Oh but Joel you should channel it. We should be mad, boys.” Grian declares, and Joel can’t help but grin- let the puns begin.

“We should call a firefighter- they might even be wearing plaid, boys”

Jimmy laughs “sounds like they might be a chad, boys” and Grian nearly falls off his chest with the force of his cackling. Joel is laughing now too, all the while racking his brain for other things that rhyme with bad. A, B, C, D- bingo.

“You know, over on empires I have Hermes- I’m a dad, boys.” With that, Grian AGAIN almost falls off his chest and almost the entire building (if he were to, he’d mlg water bucket. Since they’re bad boys). With nothing else coming to mind their laughter dies out and he’s back to hearing the slight beat in his chest, heartbeat seemingly slowed down to match the ticking of the world. How does that even work? Not Joel’s problem to worry about. He’s too much of a bad boy. Soon enough night’s closing in and Jimmy’s removing his feet from the pool, the light splashes drawing Joel’s attention back from pondering how the world works.

“…I’d say our group is pretty rad, boys.” His two teammates turn back to him with smiles re-alighting.

“Hey it’s getting late maybe we’ll see a bat, boys”

“Jimmy do you think bat rhymes with bad?”

Jimmy splutters while Joel and Grian giggle mercilessly. “Doesn’t it? I mean, well, kinda.” But even he cracks a smile at their contagious joy and after getting ready (and some more puns) the three bad boys end up lying in their comically large bed. Joel’s between the canary of the coal mine and the controller of it all, and yet the mortality of them all isn’t as consuming as it was earlier. The endless ticking of their heartbeats (all in tune), the eerily steady pace of the wind… it’s just not as scary as he thought it’d be. It’s anticlimactic honestly.

“This is a pretty good team- I’m glad, boys” Grian mumbles into the starry sky.

Jimmy hums his agreement “Goodnight bad boys.”

With the gentle breathing of his two old friends falling asleep beside him, Joel finds it’s easy to ignore where they are. Ignore the death game. For now, it’s just them- and that’s not too bad, boys.

[ibasae]

DecaDANCE - 2

Makoto: Kagehira-kun, I brought some tea and snacks for you~ Come have some.

Mika: Ngah~ m'pologies for making ya look after me.

Makoto: Don't think too much of it. I just brought some extra for you because I wanted some tea myself. Oh, you are free to take snacks from the plate as you'd like.

Mika: Thank ya kindly. Mako-kun is truly too gentle and kind...♪

Eh~? Um, why is there only these foreign-lookin' snacks?

Makoto: These are all taken from the event area for this "World Desserts Convention," and I heard they were shipped here from all over the world.

I mean, who would even come up with something like this? Must be Tenshouin-senpai again.

Mika: Eh, so that man would do somethin' like this? That's surprisin'.

...Ah! I know this one. This is called a "cannelé," and Oshi-san once brought me some as a present.

I was goin' to store it away permanently 'cause I thought it'd be a waste if I ate it, but Oshi-san found out~

He lectured me, sayin' that "I didn't give this to you as a decoration!" and had me eat it in front of him.

Makoto: Is that so? That's certainly a stroke of bad luck.

Mika: I'm still reluctant to think about it~ I should've hid it somewhere else.

If Oshi-san gets me somethin' again, I'll hide it somewhere he can't find! 'Cause if it's something Oshi-san got me, I wanna store it forever.

Makoto: Ahaha. But if it's fresh food, you should still eat it before it expires.

Regardless, I'm glad you're in higher spirits now! All thanks to the cannelés.

This might be a bad time to bring it up, but, regarding the movie project, does Kagehira-kun still not want to participate?

Mika: Mmm, yeah... I understand the logic behind it, like I know how it's a big project and would be really helpful for me.

'N I'm decently interested as well. It's a good opportunity to learn about movie production, which will be a big help in my artistic pursuits.

I guess 'm just really insecure about the whole thing. I mean, 'm not really sure if 'm a good fit for somethin' like this, since I never properly acted before.

If the project fails just 'cause of my incompetence... Uuu, just thinkin' about it makes me scared.

Makoto: That is understandable... In these situations, making the first step is really difficult.

It would be a different story if you were just a side character making a cameo, but to be casted as a protagonist... That is a lot of pressure.

I have the same opinion as Anzu, and I won't push you. If Kagehira-kun does not wish to participate, you are free to reject the offer.

But, you are interested, deep down, right? You just have insecurities related to not having enough experience, but you do want to try, no...?

Mika: Ngah~... Mm, yeah. After all, this isn't some "vulgar" work, as Oshi-san says. It won't reflect badly on Valkyrie at all.

Makoto: Then, I say you accept the job offer. Don't worry, I'll be with you the entire way.

I felt the same way as Kagehira-kun when I got casted as the protagonist of "Fist of the Shangri-la Idol," so I should be able to offer some advice.

Most importantly, this movie has two protagonists. Kagehira-kun would not be alone at all, so let's work hard together, and put together the best work we can.

Mika: Mako-kun...

Makoto: ...Ah, I said some really arrogant stuff, didn't I? I'm sorry, I shouldn't act like your senior just because I have a little acting experience.

Mika: No, Mako-kun was being really considerate of my feelings. Thank ya kindly.

But is it really okay? I'm really an outsider when it comes to actin', and I might be very troublesome to work with...

Makoto: Don't worry at all! You don't have to be so formal with someone like me ♪

Plus, I'm still learning how to properly act myself. If we come across something we don't understand, let us be troubled together and figure out the solution as a team!

Mika: (Ah, I'm really pathetic... I was only thinkin' about myself this whole time.)

(Sayin' stuff like not being able to handle the job just 'cause I don't have experience...)

(When Mako-kun, Anzu, and the Vice President are all actively considering the offer... And internally, I want to do too.)

(Getting a job offer with no related experiences, shots of pure luck like this would properly never happen again in my lifetime.)

(I wouldn't accomplish anythin' at all if I just keep runnin' away from my problems 'cause of fear and anxiety. I have to step up, and really take the brave first step...!)

... Yer right. With Mako-kun by my side, there's not much to be afraid of.

'M going to try my best! I think 'm gonna accept this movie job offer!

A few days later

Mika: This is the meetup location, right... U-um, is anyone there~ hello...?

Makoto: I've been waiting for you, Kagehira-kun!

Mika: Wonderful, Mako-kun is here♪ There's so many rooms around here, 'n I don't really use the meeting rooms. I was a tad anxious when I opened the door, 'cause I thought I was goin' to the wrong room.

Makoto: Is that so? So you and Itsuki-senpai do not use the meeting rooms for conferencing?

Mika: Yeah. When Oshi-san's in the country, we usually just chat in the outfits room. [1]

Makoto: Ah, that's right. I do sometimes bump into the two of you in the outfits room.

Speaking of which, me and the rest of Trickstar do use the meeting rooms for conferencing often.

If there aren't any meeting rooms open, Akehoshi-kun would say something like "Let's find some other place to just eat and chat while we have the meeting ☆" and then we will find somewhere else. So it's not like a fixed thing.

Mika: Haha, Akehoshi-kun really is someone who would just say things like that. I can even imagine his happy expression as he talks ♪

Oh, right. I heard the movie script is here?

Makoto: Yeah, Anzu gave both of our scripts to me. Come, I'll give you one.

Mika: Thank ya kindly~

...~Uwah, this is really a thick script. Are movie scripts usually this thick?

Makoto: Hm, well, if it's not a dialogue heavy film, the script would be lighter. But the script for "Midnight Butlers" was about this long as well. [2]

Mika: So that's the case~ it feels like it'll take a while to even just read it.

Lookie! Me and Mako-kun's names are on the first page! Must be 'cause we are starring in this film, right?

Makoto: Yup. Just looking at it makes me realize the responsibility on my shoulders, and it motivates me to work even harder.

Hey, it's rare that both of us would be together in the same place at once, so how about we have a "table read" of the script together?

Ah, do you know what "table reading" is? It's just having the actors read through their bits in the order detailed by the script as dialogue practice.

Mika: So it's just like a prose recital. Alright, I got it~

After some time has passed

Mika: "We- we aren't-- aren't lying at all!"

Makoto: "..."

Mika: "Oi, why are you so quiet? Say something."

"If the truth gets buried, the victim won't be able to pass on peacefully. We havta speak up for 'em!" ...Sorry, that was on me.

"We have to speak up for them!"

Ngh... Ngaah... Mako-kun, can we take a break? 'Cause I don't really talk in the Tokyo Dialect, or the "Standard Dialect"... this script is really difficult for me. The lines are a real pain.

Makoto: That's true, we should take a break.

Mika: Thank ya kindly~ Uuu... 'M really just useless, I already feel like givin' up. Just readin' it all takes a lot out of me, and I don't think I remembered any~thin' at all.

Can I really memorize it all before the shootin' starts...? I've already lost confidence...

Makoto: It would be one thing if Kagehira-kun specializes in hard memorization, but if that's not your forte, try to memorize the lines in context?

If you think about the character's internal feelings while you read the lines, they'll leave a much heavier impression on you.

Mika: Ah, so we're not just memorizin' the lines, but also really feelin' it. I'll try my best to do that.

I have no idea what other translators call this room. The dressing room? The outfits room? The clothing room? The closet? At this point, I'm too tired to look. I'm sure you know what I'm trying to say.

At this point in the timeline, despite being a new, up-and-coming actor, Makoto has already starred in "Fist of the Shangri-la Idol," "Midnight Butlers," and now "Detective Dance" as well. Where is Mako's grammy.

[marshmallowprotection]

Wildflowers

Pairing: V | Kim Jihyun/Rika Kim

Description: Desperate to break free from her family, Rika runs from her arranged marriage in the hopes that she can look at that blue sky without fearing she'll lose her innocence forever. However, the unrelenting desert heat leaves her indebted to a stranger who offers her the chance of a lifetime. Will she take it knowing it might be a trap, or will she give up before she dares to try?    Prequel to Cereus.

[Read On AO3]

Cowboy Universe in order: [Wildflowers] [Cereus] [Andromeda] [Wren]  

Chapter 5

It was a small wedding ceremony.

A private and respectful affair that was expected of their religion. Still, it felt like the best day of her life when she saw her reflection in a pool of water before she found his hand at the altar. He made it a day filled with love. Sure, there was no way to put a label on the top of love that they held for each other as it was.

But, it didn’t matter. She loved him and he loved her and that was all the world needed to know about the two of them.

It wasn't anybody else's business what happened between the two of them. The Eyes Of God knew what they felt for each other, anyway.

But, it was taken care of, then and there. With Jihyun’s best friend as a witness to their love, they were married at the local church with relative ease. It���d only taken a week to square away all the details after Jihyun paid off her parents. She didn't think that he would go that far for them, but he did it anyway. He said that it was the only way to make sure that they wouldn't come around again. He was a man of money, and he didn't mind using that money for the right reason. He didn't want her to think that he had bought her from them.

No, he whispered in her ear right before they kissed in the church that he’d bought her freedom from her parents. It was the most liberating kiss she’d ever experienced in her entire life. With his lips, she'd been freed from everything she was afraid of since the moment she was adopted. How could she not be happy with how much he’d done for her sake?

Even if her heart would always be haunted by demons, she would never be the same person she was before she married him.

In some ways, she knew she was lucky. It was an honor to be able to be free. It was something she never imagined for herself but now it was everything she could have ever dreamed of and more. True to every promise he made, nothing changed between them that she wasn’t okay with. If she wanted to be more than friends, he would gladly take her into his arms. But, he promised her that their marriage was for a world of safety. She could have anything she wanted as long as people knew she was his wife.

She thought that it might disrupt the workflow that they had created, but it hadn't done that in the slightest. Even the male patrons that were fond of her weren’t upset. No, plenty of them said it became a challenge to win her over, now. A lot of them appreciated the thrill of the chase and even if she didn't want to go with any of them, it still helped the bar to let them imagine as they wanted. She wasn't upset with any of it.

Any disgusting comments that would happen would never be able to touch her now. People could say or do whatever they wanted, but at the end of the day, she would be home with a man that wanted to keep her safe. She wouldn't take that for granted. It was just one of those things, you know? She had been taught to believe in giving back whenever she was given something, and she wanted to make sure that she was the best wife she could be.

Even if he said she could never be a bad wife, she was determined to be the best. She could keep house and home! She could assuredly take care of her performances, too. He could continue to take care of everything he needed to and she would run everything on the side. It was a situation where they both could win. All in all, it was turning out to be a better life than she expected.

From the minute he had found her withering in the desert, she never expected her life would become something beautiful. It was better than a dream. She couldn't dream of something like this. That's how she knew that she wasn't living in a dream. Her dreams were nothing but nightmares every step of the way. She’d never have a dream like that. So, she had to be living in the real world if her dreams could never be something like this.

She could truly live a life better than the one she'd been given and she was going to make the best of it no matter what happened. Sure, she knew that things weren't always going to be easy going forward, but it was never going to be what it was before she met him. Every step of the way was going to be a little bit easier. That's why it was so easy to stand on that stage when she knew that his eyes would be watching her. As long as he was her partner, she knew things would be okay.

With a smile on her face, she struck a pose on the stage and waited for the curtains to rise. This show was going to grow from where it was today. There were plans in the back of her mind to make a change that would be better than the one she made the day before. But, to do so, she needed to put on a brave face that knew no fear. Even if she was haunted in the dead of night, she could smile on that stage and be everything she needed to be.

No matter what happened, no matter what people said, and no matter what stood in her way, she was going to make sure anybody like her who walked into this place could find salvation.

It would start with dragging her baby cousin from the den of depression she’d heard he was in. Even if she never wanted to see her adopted parents again, she knew she wanted to know her cousin and that family since they lived in this town and wondered if they’d ever met her in the first place. She had some plans to help him the same way Jihyun helped her… she would give her hand to him at the lowest he’d ever been and give him shelter in the saloon.

Her motivation in life was to make a difference. If somebody like her could be saved from the desert heat just because a man wanted to do something good, she could extend her hand to Yoosung when everything felt pointless. He might’ve lost his sight, but she knew where he could find himself again. The world around her was starting to open up simply because she had chosen to run away to protect her heart, and it was the right choice to make.

She wasn't confined to prison anymore. No longer would she be made to believe that she didn't have family or friends that wanted to know her. Nobody could make her believe a lie any more in the name of God. Some people wanted to know her and get close to her out of genuine curiosity. She was going to take them up on that offer. A year ago, she didn't know that she had a cousin or family to speak of. Her adoptive parents made her believe that there was nobody out there but them. But, thanks to Jihyun, she knew better!

Even if she would never be perfect, she would be able to make a difference in the lives of people around her to show that her life was worth the freedom she'd been given. With the sunshine on her face from the light overhead, she began to sing a melody of freedom from the chains that had been yanked away from her hands and ankles by a man with eyes as blue as the skies.

 “       ♫ I hitched a ride with the wind  

     And since he was my friend  

     I just let him decide where we’d go  

     When a flower grows wild  

     It can always survive  

     Wildflowers don’t care where they grow. ♫ ”  

     —

       They say she shined brighter than the sun itself when she was on that stage. It was like the world came to a standstill when her energetic smile filled the little saloon. Rika Kim was more than meets the eye, and she was an oasis in the center of the driest desert. But, to Jihyun Kim, she was more than that. She was someone who desperately wanted a place to belong.

 She was someone who stumbled into his open arms and needed help that only he could give.

 He knew that from the second her fingers clung to his worn coat that evening when terror flashed in her eyes and she pleaded with him— pleaded that he protect her what she was running from—there was nothing more he could do but try to do something. Call it his fatal flaw, but what he wanted to do more than anything else in this world was protect people in need. Even if that meant he had to get his hands dirty to do so. She was the first person he had encountered that reminded him of his mother and he couldn't leave her alone.

 He knew that fear in her eyes because it was the fear he felt that day when he lost his mother and he saw the glint of something more in his father’s eyes just for a second before he let go again as he always had. The fear of knowing that you held no control over your life and someone else could decide your fate no matter how hard you cried. It was something you could either resign yourself to and accept as truth or you could fight against it. Only a fool would choose the latter option. But, nobody ever said he was the smartest man in the world.

 That desperation would drive someone to be willing to do anything to avoid that happening again. In the west, that meant that sooner or later, someone would take control of you eventually once again. It was only a matter of making the wrong choice as soon as you escaped the monster that consumed you. They were all victims when it came down to human sins… but some were worse off than others. There was only one way to get out of it and that required having power of your own.

 If you didn't have any power, you were trapped in the system.

 Even if he prided himself on trying to do the best for others, that didn't mean that he was the best. The world was filled to the brim with people like him who claimed to do best… but in reality… they ended up doing worse. He wanted to believe that he was stronger than the compulsions that haunted others, but the truth was as clear as the lack of rain for decades in that dusty town.

 He was no better than the next person.

 The one thing that set him apart from anyone else was that he was willing to admit that he wasn't good enough. He was trying to be better and the one hope he could hold in his chest in the fleeting moments when clarity came to him and the reality he faced was truly impossible to run from. He wanted to be better than he was the day before.

 He wanted to know that he wasn’t his father and that the mistakes of the past would never be repeated, but the fear of something looming on the horizon always haunted him. Even in peaceful moments like this, when Rika’s sing-song voice echoed through the building like the sound of an angel. The world gave him something to think about. He didn't want to focus on it for very long, just like the weight of the ring against his finger.

 He leaned against the counter, his hand on his cheek, watching as Rika’s golden curls swayed around her face as she lay atop the piano. The sunlight poured in from the windows and seemed to be right on time. She smiled and the glimmer of the setting sun made him tremble. Ever since the moment he met her, there had been something about her that set her apart from anyone else. As complicated as their feelings and relationship were, he was inspired by this woman.

 No matter how much the world tried to break her and beat her down, she would come into this place with a smile on her face and keep going. Even if he knew the truth of the matter, even if he knew that she cried every night she came home, even if he knew that she was struggling to find peace after all of her demons chased her down… She kept trying to do what she wanted to do. She wanted to be up on that stage.

 They were in this together for a reason. This bar was the only thing keeping sure that whispers and secrets went to the right place. It was his duty to make sure it wasn’t corrupted as it had been in the past. He was toeing the line and nothing was going to stop that as long as he was alive. Just as Rika knew that he was in her corner intending to keep her safe from those devils that clung to her heels when the moon rose and the cholla cactus that tried to take over her body.

 They were giving the other something they needed. Rika supplied a haven for others and Jihyun earned a bar with loose lips that helped him gather what he needed for a plan itching in the back of his mind as crime grew in the streets. He offered her peace in matrimony from her abusers and Rika earned a house that she’d never be flung from into the streets for saying no to the devil dressed as a man of God. She’d offered him a place to handle his concerns and fears, knowing that she’d be the confidant he needed in a world of sin. Partners.

 If there was a word to describe what they were, it was partners who understood that the other was dealing with something nobody else could ever understand. She knew that he was doing something in that bar in the name of the greater good, and he knew that she needed his hand in marriage to stay the free woman she wanted to be. Nobody needed to know what brought them together and why they were determined to stay strong.

 Rika rolled onto her side and the oohs and aahs from the folks in the crowd watching were clear. She winked, but it wasn’t meant to be in any particular direction; However, he felt her eyes looking right at him and that was a part of her ability to charm anyone. It felt like she was seeing you in the crowd and nobody else.

 That’s why people clamored to this dingy saloon, they knew that there was this rose unlike anything else to behold after a day of praying for a taste of gold for a change. Rika was special. She was special in a way that nobody else could ever understand. The people who saw her knew that it was easy to say that she was a pretty face, but they would never know the complexities of the person underneath that face.

 A patron to his left chuckled at the sight of Rika’s display as her hand beckoned the crowd to sneak a glimpse at the skin underneath the feathers that covered her shoulders. “I reckon she is somethin’, ain’t she? Guess em’ boys sure as shit weren’t kiddin’ that we’d find a rose out ‘ere if we wanted to wet our lips ‘fore goin’ home.”

 His friend laughed, hand slapping the table with enthusiasm, “Too damn bad the filly is hitched. At least, that’s what I done heard from the rumors. Reckon I ain’t see no ring on them pretty fingers, though.”

 “Open season, man, y’all know how ‘em saloon gals act. This ain’t no house of God, brother. This is where ya’ go if ain’t got nothin’ left to do but get your dick wet at night. They’re loose as hell and’ll take whatever ya’ give ‘em.” The crude comment wasn’t out of place for Jihyun. It was about what you could expect from men like that.

 It made his stomach twist but he knew the name of the game was to bite his tongue and wait for someone to say something they shouldn’t because of the booze on their lips. It was the only downside to being in this situation. The best way to placate and manipulate people came by letting them think that they could say and do whatever they wanted. He cultivated his self-image in a certain way for a reason.

 Both men laughed and laughed at their comments as if they were worthwhile and Jihyun maintained his poker face. He knew those words were disgusting, but Rika had told him that she didn’t mind. She wanted to help him, and she loved the stage. She loved being up there because it felt like a place where she always belonged. Men could say anything they wanted but she knew she would always belong to him. He was her safety and security.

 If only Jihyun could ignore the glint of shame hidden underneath her smile that always popped out when she heard a man say such things. She looked to her partner on stage, smiling back at him with her mask on, as he joined in her melody and the crowd watched on. His days might not have always been perfect, and neither was hers, but he wanted a day where his stomach wasn’t in knots, and where Rika could be able to smile without someone kicking her dreams into pieces.

Little did he or Rika know that in only a year… they’d find wildflowers in need of tender love and care that only they could provide.

[representshinjuku]

Their Truths（それぞれの真実）

Ichiro: Come on, Jiro. I’ll face you for real.

Rei: Let’s fight, Saburo!

Sasara: I’ll knock you right out, Rosho!

All: Let’s go!

[All]

Now, let’s go blow for blow, no need to hold back

Let’s go; accept the full force of my will

Now, let’s go blow for blow, no need to hold back

Okay, c’mon, throw your will straight at me

The story’s begun, serious as we’ve ever been

Between the inconvenient truths are our true feelings

No more small talk, all that’s left is to destroy

Our punchlines cross the border and let us grab the truth

[Rosho] 

I always respected you, from the moment we formed our combo

That’s why I never wanted your concern

Rather than saying it’s ‘all okay’ I wanted you to rely on me

That’s the one thing I always wanted you to say to me

With my own power I’m going to stand by your side 

I’ll show you there’s nobody else who could do what I can

I’m going to be your equal and stand by your side

I’ll see the greatest sights from the top with you, definitely

Sasara: Not bad. You’re a whole different person from the prelims.

Rosho: Your turn! Come at me with serious blows. 

Sasara: Of course. That’s what I planned!

[Sasara]

When you give me the answer that’s exactly right

But then why in the world didn’t you say it sooner!?

Instead of making nonsense declarations about ending things

Just how long do you think I struggled over that?

It’s not just about me, you held back too much

Bring on your feelings, the things I could never see

I’m a comedian, not a mind-reader

I’m not gonna understand unless you use your words

[Jiro] 

I lived life believing in you entirely, 

Every day frantically chasing after you 

You’re always one step ahead, I thought it’d always be that way

To me that was just totally, completely normal

But now I know I can’t go on like that, I can’t be anyone else than me

I’m myself, not you - if I wasn’t I’d never change

I’m finishing this with my own ways

Aniki, I’m fighting to surpass the massive wall that’s you

Jiro: Come on, Aniki. I’ll show you I can surpass you.

Ichiro: That makes me happy, Jiro. But I won’t let you do that so easily!

[Ichiro]

Your spirit’s ready to fight, I feel that reaching me

But you’re still too naive, you don’t know enough of the world

I’ve walked ahead of you– not one step but ten, a hundred, a thousand

I’m far in the distance, clearing the way

While you took one step I’ve taken a hundred

It’s only natural there’s a gap between us; I’m writing a new history

I’m not free enough to keep waiting for you

If you’ve got regrets, keep up with me now; You have no other choice

[Saburo]

Why did you abandon us? Why did you come back now?

What were you planning, trying to separate the three of us?

I won’t forgive you for looking down on us, toying with us like this

I can’t call a man like that my father; I won’t acknowledge it

Rei: Pretty great lyrics. Now it’s my turn.

[Rei]

You’re going to find the truth, aren’t you? Then let me tell you something

In all of you kids flows my blood

Reject it, fight it, the truth won’t change

No matter what you do you can’t escape from me

[Saburo]

We can’t run from you? Don’t mess around, here’s the truth

Our path is one we decide for ourselves

What have you done up until now? I won’t let you rewrite your history

You can’t bring up bonds of blood only when it’s to leverage your advantage

[Rei]

The path you’ve traveled is one I’ve created for you

Deny it all you like but bonds of blood don’t disappear

If you don’t want to be bound to your shitty dad

Then you’ll have to cut those chains with the power you’ll find

Rei: What will you do? Can you keep going?

Saburo: I’m not finished yet!!

[Saburo]

Just as you say, there’s things I can’t deny

But what’s important now is that we can’t return to the past

I don’t care what you say, I don’t care about the superfluous

My truth is this and this alone

Ichi-nii always raised and supported me

Jiro has always stayed by my side

Ichi-nii and Jiro are my family, no one else

Especially not you - my road doesn’t lead to your side

Rei: Let’s stop here. 

Saburo: What do you mean?

Rei: Sorry. But I can’t have it out with you. If you want to finish this, come up with Ichiro to the Division Battle Championships. I’ll be waiting. 

Saburo: Division Battle?

[Ichiro]

Overtake me? Ha, don’t even joke

I won’t lose to anyone; I won’t let anyone in front of me

I’m nobody’s imitation; I’m the greatest original

I walk on believing that - that’s the rule I’ve written

Jiro: Damn it..

Ichiro: Are you done already? You’re better than that, aren’t you?

Jiro: ‘M not done! Not yet. Not yet!

[Jiro] 

I finally understand my own weakness 

Catching up to you one day was always my goal

The way I saw you meant I only dragged us down

Not one day but now! I’m not catching up, I’m overtaking you!

From now on I’m walking a little ahead of you

I’ll pull you along, so keep the pace and follow behind

The guy you can trust your back to - that’s me! 

Don’t forget it! I’ll make you understand that!

Ichiro: Jiro…

Jiro: Aniki! I… I–

Ichiro: Jiro! You’re the best. The best. Jiro…

Sasara: We’re both all beat up, huh. We should stop this soon.

Rosho: Not yet!

Sasara: Rosho…

[Rosho] 

I told you not to hold back! You’re always like this

At the very end of it all you can’t look me in the eye

You called us partners, didn't you? You called us equals, didn’t you?

Unless you can look me in the eye, too, that’s all impossible

Don’t run from me! Look at me! I’m right here!

Don’t hold back, look here, I’m right here!

You called us partners, didn't you? You called us equals, didn’t you?

Then come at me for real, and never hold back again!

[Sasara]

Facing you, facing myself, 

I finally understand the answer only I can find

I couldn’t trust anyone but myself

Because I thought bonds could break so easily

So all my connections were only surface-level

I closed myself off in that darkness willingly

The trust I had in you wasn’t real 

And the bond I had with you wasn't…I let go of you.

Rosho: Sasara…

Sasara: The fact you developed stage fright, and the fact our combo broke up… It’s all… all my fault! I thought I wanted to make a real bond with you, but. I’m sorry, Rosho. I’m so sorry. 

[Rosho] 

You wanted to make a real bond with me?

Why in the past tense? Give it a rest you idiot!

Sure, we failed, but we can still try again

This time we’re going to build up a real bond

[Sasara]

You’re the idiot! Don’t say it like it’s so easy!

I held back your growth with my fake ‘kindness’

I pretended like I trusted you, but did anything but

I realize that now, that’s my truth!

Sasara: Someone like me can’t say that. I don’t even have the right to be your friend. 

Rosho: Nobody needs the right to make friends!

Sasara: Rosho...

Rosho: If you can’t trust, then I’ll make it so you can. So don’t you run from me either! 

Sasara: Rosho… What’re you doing? Stupid! 

Rosho: That’s my line, stupid!

Sasara: IDIOT!

Rosho: Shut up! Stupid.

[payservewomen]

It had been quite a while since I’d met and/or paid Goddess Aurora….”I’d written your bitch ass off…If you want the honor of paying me in person, u need to earn it. Ur only allowed to send me $$, until I say otherwise” Is essentially what she said…along with “I’m mad about it too; I like fuckin ur bitch ass up”

She’s so good at manipulating me….she’s always several steps ahead….it’s a unique feeling, as tbh, I do feel like I’m much smarter than most ppl i’m around….I know she couldn’t possible read all that I say to her…not surprising considering, when I do go to meet her, I’ll generally take a lil extra adderall(Usually take less than prescribed dose; but that night, i took full dose, plus 2 more) so I was reallllly talkative….Sometimes I’ve felt like she’d enjoy seeing how obsessed I am etc, but it is a lot, and she made it clear that I need to stfu and serve…

How’d she do that?

Well…I was on twitter chatting with ppl etc. I heard her voice, laughing n chatting with her friend(A statuesque beauty, didn’t get a great look at her during my beating) As I’m sitting on the concrete lil wall outside her old building, I look up to see both of them. I had to be told to drop to my knees, as I was a bit taken aback by another gorgeous woman standing there, watching how pathetic I am. She didn’t seem especially scornful at first…i got to my knees, and she screamed at me to hurry tf up, and count out her money…,I’d remembered in the past, how she demanded all bills face the same way….I began to fix it and face them all the same way…it seemed she didn’t care about that, but did tell me to count it out for her, which she hadn’t done in the past….her demeanor n attitude made it seem like I should’ve known to count it out and have it ready to begin with….Im pretty sure that, in reality, no matter what i did or how i did it, it would’ve resulted in her yelling at, and ofc slapping tf outta me, HARD!

“Hurry tf up chicken skin, stupid ugly ass bitch boy”

I’d barely get 1-2 $20 bills in her beautifully manicured hand before my entire world felt like it’d been hit by an earthquake, as she’d land blow after blow to my head…Each slap felt like a punch….she must’ve put all her strength into it!

I wonder if they sounded like slaps or what they sounded like….I became dizzy after a few, making it harder to count her cash.

After counting the $240(id told her i had $200 for her) She order me to lower my pants….I did with great hesitation, as underneath, I had a black thong on…The thong was made with sheer fabric, leaving nothing to the imagination, and omg i was terrified pulling my pants down….she used top of my head to balance herself, and proceeded to kick my cock n balls fairly hard…did make me double over, but wasn’t too bad….then, she ordered me to spread my legs open further, and to do so I had to pull my shorts down past my knees….which was kinda nice because they acted like knee pads for my hurting knees…i spread my legs open wide, far as they could go…..she held onto my head again, taking a moment…maybe savoring the complete and total control, the power she knows she has over me….maybe enjoying seeing the absolute fear, terror in my eyes…Then she landed by far, the most painful blow to my balls Ive ever felt. Sometimes taking any shot to the balls makes a man double over in pain almost automatically, but if ya focus or try, ya usually don’t have to…but this time? Omg, makes me wonder how on earth slaves, when tied up can withstand kick after kick to their balls….because this one? I had no choices…I was doubled over in extreme pain, gasping for air…and as I’m on the ground….

[beatriz-olivalves]

Flower Beds on Top of a Hill

He doesn’t really remember when everything went cold. It was a gradual process, though, so maybe that gives him a sort of excuse. Something like an afterthought, as if one would wonder about it after a long day of plain existence, not paying much attention to anything. 

What he does remember is feeling the unease that lingered in the air every time someone mentioned the rumors. It got worse whenever people would actually go out of their ways to talk about it, discuss it, or even argue over it. What started off as mere conspiracy whispers, which people wouldn’t even bat an eye at, then weighed down in the back of everyone’s minds in the form of desperate, hopeless wheezes. 

Aster remembers sitting by the TV in his living room and hearing the man in the news talk about the possibility of a new confrontation between nations Aster-doesn’t-care and Aster-can’t-be-bothered-to-make-an-effort-to-remember. It really was funny how, compared to how slow it took for the world to recompose itself and recover its slight sliver of hope of surviving, the people – or, should Aster say, the systems – of those two countries were so eager and fast to tear each other apart. 

Nuclear bombing was not something pleasant to be seen. Much lessen when it’s so close to home. Aster also remembers desperately grabbing his sister’s wrist and looking her straight in the eyes when he told her to flee to their parents’ house. Said it’d be safer for her there, all the way across the country. Aster remembers ignoring her claims about how it didn’t make any sense that he was sending her off when he had no intention of staying with them, but for some reason the urge to do so overcame any semblance of his critical thinking. Some nonsensical older-brotherly pride, he is now aware. He remembers receiving calls from the police after his hometown was bombarded, too. The lady over the phone spoke softly, as if she was afraid he would break after processing the news. She sounded like she might be crying, too, but maybe that was just the ringing in Aster’s ears, like air crackling with electricity. He remembers feeling empty, and he remembers being sick and staring at the remnants of yesterday’s dinner in the toilet seat. Aster remembers all of it. 

And maybe it’s good that he does. Perhaps it is the only thing that can ease his mind around the fact that he is now the only one left around. Maybe it’s good that in the last memories he has of his family, his mom, dad and sister look like real people. Healthy complexions. Functional limbs and organs. Eyes full of life. Aster reckons that he’d be more broken inside had his family been gone after exposure to the consequences of the nuclear bombs. Aster remembers telling himself to shut up, because that didn’t really matter anymore. 

If Aster let himself get back on his word from before, he does remember when everything got cold. It was around the time he started noticing the streets getting emptier. Turns out the first bombings were only the tip of the iceberg; soon after, everyone else got to feel on their skin the effects of greed, envy and thirst for power. Too bad there weren’t many people left to witness the world, much like humankind himself, crumbling to pieces. Desert streets weren’t something someone would ever dream of seeing in big cities like Wiley, and Aster knew that. Aster has started to think he didn’t know many things after all, though. 

Experiencing the death of an entire race had to be one of the most miserable things, Aster pondered one day, struggling to keep warm under all the blankets he owned and staring defeatedly at his small TV, which, with no electricity left in the country, no longer worked, not even to display static of a channel that was long ago taken off air because of the war. Aster remembers getting to the conclusion that being one of the last humans alive was also very humiliating, as if some greater force was out there, toying with his mind by showing how unimportant and ungrateful everybody had been one day. 

All Aster does is remember, as of now. Because that’s all he has left. 

Nuclear winter was a term he’d come up with to have something to call everything that was happening in the world. Or maybe it was just the country, he wouldn’t know. Nor would he survive traveling to find out. Or, he thought one day, it was maybe just Wiley, really. But Aster still doubts it to this day. He doesn’t think all the electrical storms, the acid rains, the brutal winds are all exclusive to good old Wiley. No, Aster knows at least half the globe is in shreds, not unlike Aster’s own mind. 

Eventually he had to leave his dorm, seeing as he couldn’t, for the life of him, keep himself warm, and lighting a fire inside a cramped studio apartment made up predominantly of wood wasn’t exactly the best of ideas. He was almost out of food, too, so there wasn’t much else to consider. 

Aster wandered around Wiley when the weather let him through, taking refuge whenever he could stop and think clearly about what the hell he would do next. He made it his motivation to keep going, finding ways to start fires with his bare hands, scavenging for medicine and antiseptics. Trying his damn best not to absolutely fall apart whenever he had to break into someone’s house and wipe their food cupboards clean while under the scrutiny of dead eyes that used to belong to people who breathed, cried and hyperventilated just like Aster. Robbing the gone and defenseless wasn’t something he ever planned on doing. 

Aster didn’t know why he was still there. Still doesn’t, if he’s being quite honest. It didn’t feel like being chosen by the deities to be a demonstration of power, of resistance, a whole god on Earth. It certainly did not make Aster feel special, either. To be dead must hurt, he figures, but to be the only one alive is no different than death itself, anyway. 

One day, after making it to a supermarket and getting his hands on every single item of clothing, blankets, medicine and food that was either not too long out of date or still okay-looking, Aster arrived at a massive building he recognized as being a unit of a famous chain of hotels. That was when he vaguely realized he must’ve crossed the border of the neighboring city. He didn’t know how long he had been in Lahey, but he guessed it couldn’t be that long. He couldn’t care less, either. 

After some good months walking around Wiley with nothing but the corpses of both people and the city as company, he guessed trying to give himself the slightest semblance of comfort wasn’t too much to ask for. The hotel in Lahey ended up being a true light at the end of the tunnel for Aster, and it was around sweeping dusty floors and figuring out how he would store his inventory – both brought from the outside and found in the hotel – that he started building his new routine. 

Time, as much as it was a social construct, could do terrible things to human judgment, which, if Aster stopped to really think about it, was also a social construct. He guesses it was given more importance since it was apparently more visible and insistent for the world. Aster remembers claiming to not one living soul that he would trade in a heartbeat  his ability to think straight – think at all – for having more time with his mom. But, now, all the time he had was spent moping around, investigating the infinity of the hotel rooms, crying quietly every time he came across unfortunate clients that didn’t have enough time (there it was again!) to perish at home with loved ones, or hated ones, or acquaintances, or strangers. Every single one who, once, had a life as well. Aster roamed the hotel corridors, the hotel kitchens, the hotel rooms, dragging his feet in a dance that lasted a little over two years. 

And, unsurprisingly, he was still alone. Aster still had all the time in the world to himself. 

Maintaining a sequence of actions was complex when the world was ending and one had nobody to share their frustrations with. Some days Aster woke up feeling almost normal, as if he was still able to feel anything other than aloneness and cold. Those days had him going up and down the stairs nonstop, or doing laps in the hotel pool, which was starting to get green and all gross, but it wasn’t like Aster was any better; he couldn’t remember the last time he saw his hands entirely clean. Running water was a luxury he reckoned he was only able to have access to because he was in the prestigious part of Lahey, but that didn’t mean he would waste it on unnecessary situations rather than save it for when he really needed it. 

However, there were also some days Aster couldn’t even muster up the courage to force his eyes open. He just let himself lie in his expensive king-sized bed, in what he figured was the biggest suite in the hotel, and regrettably existed. Aster would stare at the ceiling, unshed tears in his eyes, willing his covers to crawl on top of him, over his face, and just-

Just end it all. Because there were times Aster couldn’t remember what his favorite flavor of ice cream was. He couldn’t remember which of his dad’s cheeks carried this fine scar from running the razor blade over an inflamed ingrown hair repeatedly for years. One time, Aster choked on a sob because he couldn’t, for nothing that was most sacred in that forsaken world, remember his sister’s name. Aster can’t even remember, now. 

He would just suck it up and go back to sleep. Not like wallowing in his deepest sorrows would make any difference. 

About three months prior, Aster had found an analog watch inside the nightstand drawer of a fortunately empty room during one of his many expeditions. The watch, to his utter surprise, still worked perfectly, and he took finding it as a sign he should put a stopper on his idling. 

Aster started handling the watch as he would his newborn child, because now he could actually get a grasp on at least a bit of assurance that the world was, in fact, spinning. He’d found a stack of calendars in a house shortly after leaving his dorm, and had used almost three out of the fifteen or so he’d smuggled into his backpack, but, somehow, seeing the watch move its hands seemed like something magical, otherworldly even. Aster has really been the only one out there for almost three years now. 

He’s taken a liking to going to the terrace of the building these days. Religiously, every Friday afternoon he’ll get up there, wipe the acid snow from his favorite spot with a reserved rag he’d keep only for that, and sit down, wrapping his scarf tight around his neck carefully not to tangle it in his now long hair. Then he’ll answer to the skies’ callings and look up to stare at the stars. Aster had the impression they would start giving him explanations as to why everything happened so suddenly and so fast, why it all went wrong for him, in particular. But, just to make things new around Aster, he was wrong. And he got no answers whatsoever. 

Aster once remembered. He once remembered everything he deemed important enough for himself and for his family. Also the things that weren’t important at all. 

Aster misses simple things, too. He misses the taste of his grandma’s homemade pastries, the feeling of his best friend’s arms around his middle when she thought she’d done bad on one of her finals. What he misses most, some nights, is the feeling one gets on their hands or feet when they’re really cold but they manage to get warmed up, whether by clothing or pouring warm water over them. See, it’s not the finished product, when they’re nice and warm and cozy – although that feeling is also irrefutably appreciated in nuclear winter –, but the process in-between, when one can tell their hands are still cold, but touching them to other parts of the body reveals a latent warmth emanating from them. Like a reminder everything will eventually settle down and, unarguably, be okay.

Some Fridays he needs to force himself to look down from the sky, because it seems like he might never gather the courage to come back to reality from his daydreams. On nights like those, he presses his chest against the elevated edge of the building while standing on his tiptoes and just screams. Screams and cries and sobs and hiccups to his heart’s content. There was no one around to see him behave like an overgrown bratty child, after all, and that is precisely why he can’t control himself for what always felt like hours on end. 

Some other nights are lighter on his heart. He bids the stars goodbye, promising to be there again the following week, and proceeds to go back to his room on one of the highest floors. 

It is one of those tranquil nights when Aster finds himself absentmindedly humming a once familiar tune, one he used to be very fond of, but now he doesn’t remember its name or who it was by. Aster can’t remember many things nowadays. He’s been under the impression he’d had his 25th birthday some day prior, but then again, he doesn’t remember. 

The beat he reproduces matches his steps on top of the elevated edge of the terrace, which he has been used to climbing since some weeks ago. Aster stopped being scared of a lot of things lately, so he didn’t give it much thought. 

Aster mumbles a steady rhythm, gliding his eyes through the landscape: decadent, dirty, traces of an afterglow of proud grandness. The melody makes him blink furiously, overwhelmed with nostalgia of what once was and apparently would never be again. The flow of the song grows in a restless and insatiable crescendo, and Aster makes the mistake of looking at his watch, only to find that its hands are stagnant.

Just for a moment, he falters. And, in a split half second, his socked feet slip. 

It is while falling down a fifty-story high building that Aster lets himself wonder, for the very last time, why he was the one who was still there, why he was the one who was still breathing. He asks himself how insignificant it would feel to be the one human being resistant to prolonged exposure to radiation and die from falling off a building, only to realize that he does know exactly what it feels like. For he was – has been – the very last one left in this world, yet this is how he’s saying farewell to everything and everyone that has already left him long, long ago. 

And it’s like an accident.

Santo André, 24 de abril de 2020

Beatriz Moya de Carvalho Olivalves

[erodasfishtacos]

#HendallReunited

prompt: request was to write broad but to write something angsty

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: language, sexual content, angst

Harry always had issues with saying ‘no’ to people. He never quite grew out of his manners even when he should have.

He said ‘yes’ to way too many things- signing autographs for rude fans and paparazzi, and agreed to way too many things Jeff suggested.

Saying yes to everything didn’t make his life any easier is the thing. Especially when it came to his wife. She was usually left with the aftermath of him being too nice.

The media painted Y/N in a negative light occasionally and so did the fans because she would stand up for Harry and not let him say ‘yes’ to every single request.

She would tell disrespectful fans he’s not signing autographs because of the way they were screaming and interrupting his work.

Harry wished he could do it himself - admired that his wife didn’t give a fuck what people thought about her. He cared entirely too much what the world would think.

The couple didn’t fight about much - no, not really. Normal couple stuff for the most part. But this was the exception, this is where Y/N found most of their turmoil.

Every few months it would rear it’s ugly head and they’d find themselves in the same position over and over again.

This time - it was really fucking bad.

The couple had been staying in their Los Angeles home for the last few months whilst the singer finalized his album and began promotion.

It was boring meeting among boring lunch outings to get all their ducks in a row. Jeff - his manager the main orchestrator.

He was a great manager and a good friend, but it was also business too which Harry didn’t always comprehend.

At the end of the day, Harry was making Jeff millions upon millions of dollars. But Harry didn’t think that way.

**

Harry was in a stuffy conference room at the The Late Late Show to work on the script and ideas for the show. Promo had been nonstop.

He was a bit tired as it was nearly just hitting eight in the morning and he had been up late with you - having some late night loving in the hot tub.

“As for guest - Kendall Jenner,” James Corden’s producer states. All the men agree but Harry is taken aback.

“Why...why would we have my ex-girlfriend as one of my guests?” Harry interrupts, confusion knitting his brows.

Kendall and him didn’t end on a bad note - not at all. They hooked up a few times after their ‘break-up’ but once he’d met Y/N she was understanding when he cut it off.

Y/N wasn’t necessarily jealous of the model, but didn’t love when they’d run into each other at events. She was still overtly flirty with Harry without much shame. 

Harry also didn’t have an desire to see her or host her as a guest on the show. She was nice but he wasn’t interested in being friends with her. They didn’t have much in common and he was head over heels for his wife.

“The media will eat it up, dude. Harry Styles and Kendall Jenner reunited on a show after four years?” Jeff smiles, the others nodding in amicable agreement.

This is one of this times where Harry needs to say “no,” that it’s disrespectful to his significant other to use an old flame for promo for his album.

He already knows ‘hendall’ will be trending within minutes and he can’t imagine how that would make his parter feel.

“I just...this doesn’t seem like a good idea?” Harry begins hesitantly, making it sound more like a question than a statement. 

“Why not?” Eric, one of the writers asks.

“Y’know, I’m married. I don’t think m’missus would appreciate if I did somethin’ like that just for promotion,” he states, scratching at his jaw uncomfortably.

“Look Styles, we’re not asking you to fuck the girl. It just a interview, c’mon,” The executive producer gruffs - wanting those guaranteed views.

Harry swallows - looking at his manager and then at everyone else at the table looking at him for an affirmative answer.

“Uh-sure,” Harry fumbles, feeling anxiety rise into his throat. Fuck, he’s such a god damn pushover.

He’s trying to find his voice to go back on his agreement but the meeting wrapping up and people are leaving with final handshakes.

**

Harry doesn’t know how to tell Y/N what is going on. He’d been keeping in stored in the back of his mind, not ready to have a blowout.

He never found the perfect time to bring it up and now it was too late. It was the morning of the show and he was due to be at the rehearsals this afternoon.

Harry had finally decided he was going to tell her this morning over coffee but forgot that she had a girl’s day planned with a few friends.

She was already out to breakfast with them when he woke up. His phone had one text from you.

Hi baby. I’m out with the girls. See you at the show tonight. I’ll meet you there around six! Love you!

He was fucked royally and he had no one to blame but himself. Maybe it’d be okay, maybe she’d roll her eyes and tell him he’s an idiot.

Realistically he knew that was just a sweet dream at this point.

—

Harry was fidgety and kept mucking up his lines during rehearsal as it got closer to the showtime and his missus arriving.

Kendall had arrived for hair and makeup without seeing her ex-boyfriend yet. He dreaded seeing the model.

Kendall and Y/N had met a few times at different events. It was always cordial. Kendall was always casual - their relationship was never more than a couple fun dates and sex.

They were kind to each other when they met but he couldn’t deny how much harder his partner kissed him on the mouth afterwards.

Before he know it, his wife is hugging him from behind as he talks to a producer about which cameras to look at.

Y/N noticed the way he tensed up at first and thought about how unusual that was for him. Normally, he’d lean back into her with his full weight causing them both to stumble and laugh.

He slowly, cautiously turns around and his face  relaxes a little bit but not completely. “Hi baby,” he hums, leaning in for a kiss.

“You look so handsome,” she replies, admiring his brown pinstriped suit and her pearl necklace that he’d snagged awhile back. She thought it looked better on him anyways.

“You look even better, s’fuckin’ pretty, love,” he gushes, coming back in for another kiss - a little too sensual for the setting.

She was donned in a cropped white shirt, showing of the smooth expanse of her tummy. An oversized blazer of Harry’s, ripped jeans, and heels. 

Harry thought fleetingly he couldn’t wait to fuck her after the show. Then remembered that mostly wouldn’t happen.

Reggie, the musical lead, slides up to you two. He smiles wide at you, saying, “Can’t believe you agreed to the guest this evening.”

Her eyebrows furrow in confusion, Harry’s raise nearly to his forehead, but when she opens her mouth to ask him to explain they’re interrupted.

“Harry!” The leggy model trots over to the little group. Dressed in an interesting one-piece suit that has sewn in heels. She looked beautiful as ever, of course she was a model.

Both of them turn towards the oblivious girl, “Kendall,” Harry replies with a twinge of anxiety - eyes repeatedly looking at his significant other’s profile as multiple emotions flash.

“Hiya, you’re Y/N right?” Kendall smiles kindly, offering her manicured hand.

She accepts, “Yeah, uh-good to see you again.”

Harry knew she had connected the dots quickly in her head. The hurt, confusion, had hit her eyes before narrowing into full-blown rage at her partner.

“I promise I’ll go easy on him,” Kendall jokes before pinching at Harry’s cheek teasingly. The model was a natural flirt with everyone she got along with.

“Oh, sure,” she replies lamely, attempting to not let her feelings burst out in that moment with her husband . She knew it wasn’t Kendall’s fault.

“I’m going to go grab a bite to eat. I’m probably gonna puke when we do ‘spill or fill’. See you guys soon,” the model waves before trailing off with her assistant.

“Did you kn- of course you knew she was your guest,” Y/N seethes, turning to fully face the guilt-stricken-singer.

He rubs the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact, “I did.”

“How long have you known for?” She demands to know, keeping her voice at an angry whisper to not draw attention.

Harry wasn’t going to lie to his love, “About two weeks.”

Y/N replies with a laugh, “let me guess, you let Jeffrey talk you into this bullshit, again.”

His silence is all she needs to know it’s true.

“For Christ’s sake, of course,” She huffs bitterly, “what’s even worse is you didn’t fucking tell me. What the fuck?”

Harry bites his lip, not able to rasp out anything but a pathetic, “m’sorry, love.”

He wasn’t usually good at taking responsibility during a fight. He was stubborn at best but he couldn’t deny his way out of this.

“You will be, you-“

They were cut off by the staff, the audience was trailing in and Harry needed to get mic’d up now.

“This conversation isn’t over,” she points her finger at his chest before storming off to the side of the stage where she’d watch from.

Fucking shit.

**

Harry was a performer. It’s easy for him to push things to the back of his mind so he can entertain a enamored audience.

But tonight, he was struggling. Eyes flicking over to the teleprompter more than usual, his demeanor not as vivid and carefree.

Not when his wife was glaring daggers at him from stage right. Her hand constantly at her mouth, biting at her nails - a nervous tick of hers.

“Next up, the one, the only, the beautiful model and one of my good friends, Kendall Jenner!” Harry introduces when she walks out and waves at the crowd.

They hug and when they pull apart they step over to where they were playing the game. Either answer the question or eat a nasty food picked out by the other.

They weren’t allowed to see each other’s questions before the game started- both going on blind which put Harry more on edge.

“Okay, Kendall. Rank the members of One Direction on most to least attractive or you will be eating...” Harry spins the table, “Cow tongue.”

She flinched at the disgusting plate, smirking up at Harry before considering her course of action, “I think I can answer this one.”

He wasn’t looking forward to her answer. Neither was Y/N by the way she nearly shaking her foot off her leg.

“Okay, I got this. You - the most attractive, then uh- Zayn....Louis...Niall...Liam,” she laughs, “but all of you are hot!”

Harry fake laughs and acts like he’s impressed by her answer as the crowd roars and cheers. 

When Kendall picks up her notecard - she laughs in surprise at the question before looking at him with bright eyes.

“Okay, um, bull penis!” She giggles before starting the question, “I’m dying to know this answer. So...your first album HS1 was released four years ago, correct?”

He nods, apprehensive.

“Which songs were about me? Especially was only angel?” She laughs at Harry’s pale expression before without another thought he shovels the rancid food into his mouth.

Harry looks off to the side to see that his missus is no longer sitting there. Just Jeff - who gives him a thumbs up.

**

The first thing he did when the show ended and the lights dimmed was bolt off to Jeff - ignoring Kendall who was about to say something to him.

“Where’d Y/N go?”

He thought she might have went out to get a breathe of fresh air but for the next hour and a half he hasn’t seen her once.

“She said she wasn’t feeling very good. She told me to tell you she’d meet you at home,” Jeff shrugs unbothered.

“Damnit!” Harry curses loudly, ripping out of the microphone and the little pack in his back waistband.

“Harry,” Jeff scolds at his unprofessionalism that was abnormal for him.

“No! Don’t fucking ever ask me to do shit like this again. You fucking knew what questions were on those notecards and you said it wasn’t anything about our previous relationship.”

“Harry-“

“Don’t fucking talk to me. You’re a real shit manager sometimes, you know that? Do not contact me tonight or tomorrow for that matter, you douchebag,” Harry barks before storming off towards the dressing rooms.

All the employees were standing around in shock, staring at the popstar as he ignored everyone around him.

Harry was famously known for being a kind, amicable guy. So it took everyone by surprise to hear him speak like that. Even Jeff was shaken up a little.

—

The house was pitch-black as Harry pulled up. The house’s first floor was lined with large, bay windows and not a single light was on.

He could find one room illuminated which was your bedroom. A dim side lamp must have been flicked on. He imagined her purposely turning off all the lights on the trek up the staircase.

Harry didn’t want to admit how much he was trembling with awful nerves and anticipation as he slowly turns the knob of the shared bedroom.

Y/N wasn’t laying in bed as he expected but found the bathroom door shut tightly. He noticed a little yellow bag with tissue paper off to the side by a dresser.

He knocks on the oak door, not daring to enter without permission.

“What do you want?” Y/N answers, tone flat and emotionless. 

“Can I come in, baby? Please...” He wasn’t ashamed to beg for forgiveness at this point. Hearing the emptiness in her tone scared him shitless.

“I really could care less,” She replies coldly from her spot in the scalding water decorated with bubbles.

Harry had never felt more unsure in his life as he enters the bathroom.  Y/N had gotten proper pissed at him or vice versa before - right before a concert, an award ceremony but she’d never left without him.

Her head was laying against the foam headrest and her body was covered by the soap water. She looked tired and her eyes were puffy from crying.

Harry kneels next to the tub, “look at me, please pet.”

 Y/N takes a moment before turning her head and opening her eyes. They were distant, disappointed in the man in front of her.

“I should have told you about Kendall. I should have put up more of a fight to get someone else on instead,” Harry admits, his hands desperately wanting to reach out for her.

She shakes her head with a heart-wrenching sniffle, “it’s not just tonight, Harry. We’ve had this conversation continuously for three and a half fucking years. You try to please everyone, despite them giving no fucks about you.”

“Are you that much of a pushover? You let your ex-girlfriend flirt with you in front of millions. Do you know how embarrassing and unfair that it to me?” She wipes at her eyes to stop the tears spilling over.

Harry hadn’t thought of it like that - to be honest. But he agrees, it wasn’t fair and downright cruel to do that to her.

What? All because he couldn’t say ‘no’ because he didn’t want people to be mad at him? It was pathetic and ridiculous.

“I-I won’t let it happen again, lovie. I mean it, I truly do,” Harry whimpers reaching over to cup her cheek and wants to cry when she pushes him away.

“You’re a broken record. You’ve said that a million times before but don’t change,”  Y/N points out, eyes boring furiously into his wife’s.

“I’m goi-“

She cuts him off with a sharp edge in her tone, “Just leave me alone, get out.”

The man’s face crumbles and for a second, she wants to just end the fight and makeup but then nothing would change.

“Baby-“

“Get out!” She finally bellows, tears streaming down her face steadily.

He obliges, head hung in defeat as he closes the door behind him. He stands there’s blankly for a second before going to the walk-in closet.

He’s pulling out a fresh pair of cotton underwear and a large sleepshirt for his partner, laying them neatly on the bed.

Harry doesn’t know what to do with himself while he waits so he pulls out his phone to mindlessly scroll.

He throws it against the wall when he sees #hendallreunited is trending number one on Twitter at the moment.

The singer strips down to his briefs and sits with his back against the tufted headboard, staring blankly at the wall.

His eyes catch a neon pink pair of his swimshorts tossed carelessly on the decorative vase in the corner of the room from the night before .

“Fuck, baby - no need to rush,” Harry groans into Y/N ‘s mouth as she pushes him until he’s sat on the edge of their California king.

She reaches impatiently for the tie on his neon pink swimshorts and yanks them off his slim, peach-fuzz thighs before throwing them onto the vase without a care that it was worth over twenty-thousand pounds.

After edging her in the hot tub with his fingers and mouth, she wasn’t waiting any longer before clambering onto his lap, pulling her swim bottoms to the side, and sinking onto him.

He felt guilty when his cock twitched at the thought of it. But when reality set back in, the arousal with the memory evaporated.

It isn’t much longer until the door is pulled open and  Y/N’s padding into the room with a towel secured around her.

She looks at the clothes Harry set out for her and pointedly walks past them to pick out her own nightwear. 

That really shouldn’t make his eyes tear up as he watches her slide on a similar pair of panties and an oversized shirt. Spotting a purpling bruise on her upper in thigh from his mouth.

 Y/N silently walks past the bed and to the bedroom door, looking back before bleakly stating, “I’m going to sleep in the guest room.”

He frowns, wrinkles appearing on his forehead, “You can sleep in here, love. I’ll take the guest room.”

Harry doesn’t get a reply as she just shakes her head and closes the door loudly behind her. 

It’s just - he’s never seen her this upset. She was usually fantastic at communicating her feelings and hashing things out.

She wasn’t one for the silent treatment or ignoring the topic. It had his chest rising faster than usual with anxiety. The serious of it overwhelming him.

He states at the wall for a very long time without wiping the fat tears brimming over his trembling lips.

*

He couldn’t sleep - it was half past three and he hadn’t even laid down or clicked off the lamp.

Harry accepted sleep wasn’t coming so he begins to tidy the already clean room. He picks up the shorts and tossing them in the hamper.

He refolds some joggers he’d carelessly shoved in a drawer and when he went to move the little yellow bag - curiosity got the best of him.

There was no card and he wasn’t sure who it was for or if it had been a gift already give to Y/N that she had returned home with.

Harry really shouldn’t - but he does. Gently tugging out the paper and reaching in to feel fabric.

Pulling it out, it takes him a minute to identify what it is - two baby onesie. Who was having a baby?

He lays them in front of him, eyes widening in surprise as he reads what is printed across the black cotton.

The first one was the colors and font of his upcoming tour merch with the photo he used on his tour announcement with the heeled boot and white pants.

Love on Tour - Due Date: September 2025

With Special Guest Appearance from Baby Styles

The second one was simple and read across the chest:

I’m having your baby (and it is your business) with embroidered kiwis all of over it.

He frantically reached back into the bag to pull out a bundle of pregnancy tests tied with a silk bow.

They weren’t necessarily trying for a baby but they’re weren’t not trying either. Harry wanted a baby as soon as his missus was willing to give him one.

“No, no, don’t one,” she’d whined into his mouth when he’d reached over to grab a condom off the nightstand.

“Oh sweet thing, you want me bare? Fill you up?” He croons happily, coming back to grip at his thick base and tease at her entrance.

“Ye-yeah, H. Please,” (Y/N) whimpers, bucking her hips in the hope he’d slip inside her.

Harry hums, “Might give you a baby though, y’want me to knock you up?”

“Want it, wan-“

He cuts her off with a hard, blissful kiss as he thrusts all the way inside before pulling out to do it again. 

“Gonna give it to you, whatever you want, lovie,” he promises.

The two had never used protection afterwards. It had start about seven months ago and from his knowledge she’d still been getting her periods regularly.

Occasionally, he would palm at her flat tummy and pout, “Haven’t put a baby in you yet, ‘ave I?”

He was so ecstatic but disappointed in himself for ruining everything and pleasing everyone other than who he should be.

Harry needed to fix this. He didn’t want Y/N to lose the excitement of having their baby over a dumb choice of his.

The man’s out of the room and not knocking before entering their guest room. His now pregnant love is laying on-top of the covers.

One hand subconsciously on her belly - which she removes and places next to her when her wife walks in.

The television was on but the volume was low and Y/N wasn’t watching it in the first place anyways.

Harry sits on the edge of the bed, “I opened the yellow bag.”

She looks at him with wide eyes, a little taken aback. she was going to surprise him tonight and forgot to store it away for another time after the fight.

Harry has happy tears dribbling down his cheeks, “you’re having my baby?”

Y/N nods, running a slight hand through his curls. She still had a nasty knot of anger and uncertainty in the pit of her stomach.

It pains her, wanting to share this moment of excitement with Harry but she just couldn’t. The uncertainty of whether Harry would put everybody’s needs before his own baby.

“Come back to bed, want t’talk and celebrate. M’so bloody excited,” Harry murmurs, a large smile decorating his face as he smooths a palm over the expanse of her tummy.

His wife shakes her head and places a hand over his, feeling the cold metal of all of them. “I want to be left alone.”

The twinkle in Harry’s eye diminishes to devastation as he realizes that he’s fucked up so badly that she doesn’t even want to celebrate.

“Pet, can...we just forget about it tonight and be happy ‘bout the baby?” Harry asks selfishly, knowing it was unlikely she’d agree.

She didn’t, a firm expression on her face, “no, I have a lot to think about.”

“Like wha’?” He asks anxiously, unknowing of quite the reason she was so furious.

“Like how you say yes to everything and everyone. We talk and talk about how you need to say ‘no’ and do what’s best for you - for us. You agree to and never follow through”

She takes a shaky breath and continues, “it’s affected our relationship before when you’ve had to cancel our vacation away from all this for a charity concert you’d agree to perform at last minute, dinner reservations because you told your friend we’d be at their art showing they wanted you at.”

Harry knew she was right. He did those things. He wanted everyone to be happy with him - to a fault.

“Tonight was just icing on the cake, you allowed your manager to talk you into hosting your ex on that show. Out of all the people in the world - her. With flirty questions and jabs from her. You let that happen. You care about making everyone happy but in return you don’t care how it affects me. That’s pretty shitty.”

“I’m...I’m really fucking scared you’ll do that even when we have the baby. I need you to put them first and right now...I’m not sure if you’re going to. You can’t put the person you want to spend the rest of your life with first now, how do I know you’ll do it with the baby?”

Harry chokes out a sob as he presses his forehead against the bed, his broad shoulders shaking. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried this hard - years ago maybe. He felt like his wife didn’t have any faith in him and he was to blame.

He looks up at her with swollen eyes - at a loss for what to do or say. He loved her so much and was over the moon that they were going to have a baby.

“How do I fix this, darling? You’re right, I really fucked up. M’sorry,” Harry cries, grabbing at her hands and she allows it.

“Just saying you’re sorry won’t fix it,” Y/N replies flatly, letting Harry squeeze and kiss at the backs of her hands.

“Then what do I bloody do to fix this?” Harry raises his voice in frustration, staring in bewilderment at his wife. 

Y/N narrows her eyes at him, “Do not raise your voice at me, Harry. Actions speak louder than words.”

Harry swallows harshly, pressing one finally kiss to her hand. “Okay.”

“Okay?” She repeats.

“I love you, I’ll fix this,” he promises with conviction. He knew what he needed to do and do it tomorrow. So he and his wife could enjoy her new pregnancy.

“I need space tonight, I just...please”Y/N says quietly, rubbing at his shoulder.

It wasn’t the first time they’ve slept in separate rooms because they weren’t getting along but they normally found their way back to each other before sunrise.

Harry nods, lip still tremble with the residual anxiety of the conversation. She allows him to press a soft kiss to her mouth before leaving the room.

—-

Cafe Habana was busy - but no one was paying much attention to Harry and Jeff. It was the morning after and Harry had demanded a meeting over breakfast with his manager.

“Y/N pregnant,” Harry states bluntly after their drinks arrive.

“Oh? Congratulations, dude. That’s exciting!” Jeff leans over to pat him on the shoulder, a big smile.

“The baby is due in September. My next tour starts in next July. The baby will be about nine months. I want to be at home with them for the first year.”

Jeff doesn’t look pleased, “what are you getting at Harry?”

“Reschedule the July and August tour dates. Tack them on to the end of the tour,” Harry lays out flat. 

He hadn’t talk to his wife about this but he knew this was how he could prove that he could say ‘no’ and not be a pushover.

“No Harry. Look I get you’re excited about the baby - but that will be such a fucking hassle,” Jeff frowns, sipping his mimosa.

“I’m not asking, Jeff. I’m telling you that’s what needs to happen,” Harry replies firmly, tone strong and unwavering.

Jeff is definitely taken aback by his client’s conviction. 

“While we’re on the topic, do not ever put me in a situation like you did yesterday. It affected my wife and I. And I will choose her over this career any day.”

The manager nods in surprise, “Harry, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not asking for an apology but if you ever pull something like then I’ll be looking for a new management team. Are we clear?” 

Jeff once again nods, unsure of where this is coming from but at the thought of losing his biggest client would be disastrous so he’d do whatever to accommodate him.

“Consider it done,” he tells Harry before clearing his throat in a slight panic.

—

Y/N woke up to an empty house. She was restless, she asked Harry to prove to her that he could be what she needed. However, it was a bit unfair because she didn’t know how he could do it.

It’s just…she had a baby to think about. They both needed to be put first and if it took a gnarly fight for Harry to realize it...so be it.

“Baby? Love, where are you?” She hears Harry echo through the whole house. She was sat in the kitchen, on a stool by the island, idly sorting through mail.

“In here!”

Harry jogs in, panting like he sprinted from the garage up to the kitchen. He comes to stand in front of the love of his life.

“I might have not completely fixed everything but...I tried,” Harry tells her, cradling her face in his large palms. “ I just got back from lunch with Jeff. I told him about the baby.”

He takes a deep breath before continuing, “I rescheduled tour dates so I can be with you guys at home in London for the first year. Then...maybe you guys can join me after?”

“Harry…” she’s at a loss for words.

“And I told Jeff that if he ever puts me in a situation like that again, I’m firing him.”

Y/N stares at him, in awe and admiration of the man she chose to marry and keep forever. His face was so sincere and vulnerable.

Harry didn’t know whether it would be enough. If it wasn’t he’d keep trying but all he could do was hope. He waited with bated breath as she processed his words.

“Baby, you-for me?” She murmurs as she stands up and crowds into his space. He instantly wraps her up into a tight hug, missing her touch.

“Of course, pet. I’d do anything for you, I mean it. I’d quit this whole career if you wanted tha’,” he tells her truthfully - lips brushing her forehead.

“I love you, so so much,” Y/N murmurs, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“We’re havin’ a baby,'' Harry sighs dreamily into her mouth, tongue sliding against hers. A large hand came to palm at her belly.

“Yeah, m‘having your baby,” She giggles as he begins to trail the kisses down her jaw and neck - pressing her into the marble countertop.

“Should we name it Kiwi?” Harry rasps as he slides the tank top strap off her shoulder so his lips can meet the cap of her warm shoulder.

“We are not going to be that celebrity couple who names their baby something weird,” Y/N groans as he grounds his hips into hers with intent.

THE END