#pov everyone is wrong and this just isn’t true

[joedirtymadre]

How bout an angst and fluffy Luffy x reader? Like, he's trying his best to be a good boyfriend but he doesn't know exactly how do it. So he gets insecure and afraid of reader leaving him

The Painting

LUFFY X READER! ANGST + FLUFF! (STILL ACCEPTING REQUESTS! SEND EM RN! 😤😤)

You were peacefully working on a new painting. You had a strong passion for art, but recently you have decided to pick up painting again. Plus, today is a slow day on the ship, so why not? You hummed to yourself, as you continued to add the finishing touches to your work. “Wow, you really outdid yourself this time,” you smiled to yourself as you took a moment to look at your canvas. It was a portrait of the whole crew, you wanted to surprise everyone at dinner with it. You spent the last few weeks on it too, so I’m sure that they’ve been waiting for the reveal.

You then heard your door open and saw Luffy. “Hey Luffy,” you smiled. “Hi (Y/N)! Hey can I hide here? I’m playing hide and seek with Usopp and Chopper,” he explained as he ran over and gave you a quick peck on the cheek. “Sure, but please don’t tip over my supplies. Last time you made a mess I spent 2 weeks cleaning it up,” you sighed. “I promise!” He said as he quickly jumped into your supply closet.

You continued your artwork, until you were disrupted again. You heard a small knock on the door and soon Chopper opened the door. “Hi Chopper, what brings you here?” You asked. “Hi (Y/N)! Have you seen Luffy?” He asked. “Hmmm… I haven’t sorry,” you smiled. “Hmmm… well can I look around your office? Just in case,” he said. “Go ahead,” you said as you continued painting.

Chopper checked under the table, in your art boxes, and was now heading to your closet. You lightly giggled as you knew your boyfriend was about to get caught. Chopper quickly opened the closet door, and out jumped Luffy. He began running around the small office, “Hey Luffy, this isn’t tag!” Chopper shouted as he chased him. “Now it is!” He yelled, as they circled around you. “Luffy be care-“ you were cut off by Luffy running into you. You fell straight into your paint, easel, and most importantly your painting.

The two boys quickly stopped and stared as you slowly picked yourself up and stared at the destroyed painting. Smudged and ripped, even your easel broke. “(Y-Y/N) I-“ you ran out before you could hear another word from your stupid boyfriend.

Luffy’s POV

I watched as (Y/N) ran off, I tried to chase after her but Chopper blocked me. “Wait! I think she should be alone right now Luffy, she might say something she doesn’t mean because of how she’s feeling. So, just give her some space,” he explained. “But I have to tell her I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to play,” I explained. “I know, but we messed up. Really bad, and she needs time to herself right now,” Chopper said. I grabbed my head in frustration.

I looked over to the destroyed painting and realized it was a painting of all of us. “This is what she’s been working on for weeks,” I said softly. “Oh no, and we ruined it!” Chopper cried. “No, I ruined it. I always ruin things for her,” I said as I picked up the painting. “That’s not true, she loves you Luffy,” Chopper said. I shook my head, “She deals with me, I keep doing dumb things and it always ends with me hurting her or breaking her stuff,” I sighed as I placed the canvas on her table.

“It’s ok Luffy, if she didn’t love you she wouldn’t be with you. Right?” Chopper asked. “I guess,” I said. “I’m gonna go check on her,” Chopper said before running out of the room. I sat on her stool and stared at the mess I made. “Why do I keep messing things up? Maybe… I should leave her alone, then she wouldn’t have to deal with me. She could tell me to leave her alone if we weren’t dating, like Nami,” I said to myself.

I dragged myself to the deck and straight to my spot, to try and think. “Hey Luffy,” Nami said as she sat on her beach chair. “Hey…” I said softly as I continued to drag myself. “What’s wrong? Did (Y/N) kick you out of her art room?” She laughed. “No,” I moped. “Woah, then what’s wrong? Here come take a seat,” she said as she pointed to the other beach chair.

I told her the whole story and ended up with 4 bumps on my head. “You idiot! How could you do that to her?” Nami frowned. “I know… Nami… has she ever talked about how much I mess up around her?” I asked. “(Y/N)? No, not really. She just tells me how fun and cute you are,” she explained. “Really? Even that time I broke her clay pot?” I asked. “Oh man, she was so mad that day, but no… Now that I think about it she didn’t talk bad about you,” Nami said. “What about the time I accidentally squeezed her paint tube too hard and it got all over her face?” I asked. “Nope, nothing,” she said. “Or when I dropped-“ I was cut off.

“Ok I get it, you’ve done a lot of bad things. But she’s never talked bad about you, I think she knows that mistakes happen… especially around you,” Nami pointed out. “But I really messed up this time, what if she wants to break up. She should break up with me… I keep making her mad or sad,” I sighed as I fell back into the chair. “Or… you could make it up to her. Come on captain, you’ve fought warlords and admirals. I’m sure you can fix this problem and make your girlfriend a little less mad at you,” she said. “You’re right! I can try and fix it!” I said excitedly. “But I’m gonna need help,” I said, determined.

Your POV

You’ve been in bed for the last 6 hours. Chopper and Nami checked up on you, but you had no strength to get up. You just need some time to calm down. Suddenly a knock on your door, you didn’t respond, hoping the person on the other side would think you’re asleep. However, the door slowly opened. You saw your idiot captain peek inside, “(Y/N)?” He called out.

“Go away Luffy, I don’t feel good right now,” you said as you turned around, showing your back to him. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry, really sorry… I know you’re really mad at me, but I wanted to make it up to you,” he said as he stepped close. “How?” You asked. “Can I show you?” He asked, placing a hand on your shoulder. You slowly turned around, seeing a distressed look on your usually careless boyfriend. “Sure,” you said calmly before getting up.

“But I need you to wear this,” he said, handing you a blindfold. You stared at it with one eyebrow raised. “Please?” He asked. You nodded and quickly put it over your eyes, you then felt a warm hand grab yours. “Alright hold on,” you heard, before being picked up in bridal style. “L-Luffy?” You asked, feeling your face heat up. “Well, I don’t want you to trip while being blindfolded, so I’ll just carry you,” he explained.

You then laid in his arms as he carried you to wherever it was that he wanted to show you. “Alright, I’m gonna put you down now,” he said softly before helping you down onto your feet. “Alright now on 3, take off your blindfold,” he said as he stepped away from you. “Ok,” you said.

“1,2,3,” he said, and you quickly took off the blindfold. You gasped at the scene in front of you. It was your art room, clean and way more organized than it was before. Also, your easel was fixed with a bunch of more upgrades to it, and finally your eyes fell to the painting on the easel. “My painting!” You said excitedly. You smiled as you saw the rough strokes and the taped backing. It wasn’t perfect, but it was way better than how it looked earlier.

“Did you do all of this?” You turned to ask Luffy. “I had some help, but I wanted to fix what I messed up earlier,” he explained. You ran over and gave him a kiss, “Thank you Luffy! I’m so happy,” you smiled and hugged him. “You’re not still mad?” He asked nervously. “Mad?” You asked, confused. “Well… I always mess up your crafts or art projects, I know how upset it makes you,” he said as he stared at the floor. “Well I do get a bit upset, but I know you don’t mean it. I just give myself some time alone so I don’t say anything that I might regret later,” you explained. “Wow, Chopper was right,” he said.

“But I’m really sorry I messed up your painting, I know how hard you worked on it,” he said, before pulling you into a hug. “It’s ok, I forgive you. Just next time, no more games in my art room, ok?” You asked. “Deal,” he smiled. “Oh, I made you something,” he said, pulling away. “Huh?” You asked. He grabbed a small canvas from the table and turned to show you.

You pouted when you realized it was a portrait of you and him. “I know it’s not that good, but-“ you interrupted him. “It’s perfect! I’ll hang it up right now!” You said as you pulled him into a hug. “Really?” He said excitedly. “Yeah, and we should paint together sometime, you’re a natural,” you smiled, before giving him a kiss on the cheek. “You think so? I did have fun doing this,” he grinned. “Mhmm!” You nodded and you both went to hang his masterpiece on your wall.

[akumakosuke]

Yay, I finally finished the first chapter of my new fic...

†Our cursed love†

This is my first time writing an actual fic so it might not be that good, constructive criticism is welcome and encouraged! I would really like to know your opinions on what I'm doing right and wrong, things I should change and so forth.

A little PS this is not going to be absolutely canon, there will be some changes to the lore and techniques so be warned. I am also fully up to date on the manga so there will be manga spoilers.

Please enjoy the first chapter of ‡Our cursed love‡.

No warnings

~_Our cursed love._~

Chapter 1- Our pedestal.

~No one POV:~

The day is like any other day to most people. The sun blazing high in the bright blue sky, perfect white fluffy clouds dot the sky, moving along swiftly with the breeze. The sound of streets full of vehicles and streets full of people fills the air.

The day was like any other to non-sorcerers.

They all go about their lives, completely oblivious to the two Gods currently walking among them, blissfully unaware of the evil seeking to destroy these two Gods.

The day was like any other to the two Gods. Aware they’re being hunted but unaware of each other.

It’s true what they say, ‘ignorance is bliss’ and our two Gods will have to learn that lesson the hard way.

~3rd Person POV~

A young boy, around the age of 9 walks with an unusually cold face for a child wearing a blue hoodie with beige shorts and black sneakers. His expression isn’t the only eye catching thing about him, his eyes are quite simply breathtaking. Strikingly brilliant sky blue orbs. His short, fluffy white hair gently swaying in the breeze.

To passers by he seems like a relatively normal child with oddly spectacular looks but normal is not a word fit to describe this God.

Satoru Gojo decided to take a trip to Shibuya for no other reason than boredom. He knows it’s ‘dangerous’ because of the many, many bounties on his head but does he care? No, of course not.

Why would he care? He’s a ‘God’ right? All these fools are beneath him, besides its clear that none of them would even be a problem, he might be 9 but he knows his place in this world, he knows the ‘blessing’ he’s been born with and he knows how to use it -albeit not well- one glare is enough to dissuade anyone crazy enough to target him.

He can sense them all around him, thinking they’re hiding their cursed energy well but nothing can get past his six eyes, nothing.

~10 minutes earlier~

A young boy with long grey hair tied into a neat pony wearing a (f/c) shirt and (2/f/c) pants that are clearly too big for him and a pair of (f/c) boots steps out of a fancy black car in the middle of Shibuya. The 9 year old closes the door and the car drives off, left unattended which would be odd if he were just a boy, although his expression is somewhat normal for a boy his age, relatively bored, his eyes hidden by a pair of blacked out glasses with a circular frame.

He confidently makes his way through the busy streets, despite his small size he easily navigates a path through the much taller adults, some only sparing him a brief glance but none question why there’s a clear gap between him and everyone, a physically space none of them an seem to cross, naturally and absentmindedly moving around the boy to avoid it.

M/n Goto is aware of this gap as it’s intentional. He’s practicing although the few hungry pairs of eyes on him are distracting. M/n knows venturing out alone is ‘risky’ because of how valuable he is but hes a God isn’t he? Those fools are beneath him.

They’re clearly trying very hard to hide their cursed energy but alas it’s in vain, M/n sensed them following him since he left his estate. It’s not like any of them would be a problem for him, he knows his place in the world, he knows the ‘blessing’ he was born with and he knows how to use it -thanks to his loving father training him since he could walk-, one glare is enough to dissuade any idiotic enough to try and mess with a God, besides nothing can touch him without his permission, nothing.

~present time~

Destiny is a funny thing, many argue its existence.

If destiny exists then freedom cannot.

If freedom exists then destiny cannot.

Many argue its existence, many chose to deny its existence, they chose freedom.

The freedom of choice.

M/n Goto and Satoru Gojo do not believe in destiny.

M/n Goto and Satoru Gojo both chose to come to Shibuya today because they wanted to, they were bored and chose to do the riskiest thing by leaving unsupervised.

They both chose to walk this random street, they both decided they were tired of being followed and chose to turn around. A completely, random choice.

Completely random.

“Huh-?!”

“What-?!”

Time suddenly stops for two young, lonely, untouchable Gods.

M/n Goto and Satoru Gojo do not believe in destiny, so what is this feeling? Not the physical feeling of their shoulders colliding.

This sudden tug, this oddly familiar feeling like meeting a different version of yourself.

Luminous, sparkling sky blue orbs meet now uncovered blazing, blood red orbs and for the first time both are in absolutely awe of another’s appearance.

~M/n POV~

‘He- he bumped into me… his eyes… they’re… how did he-? This feeling… who is he, i feel like I should know… wait… he’s…’

~Satoru POV~

‘I didn’t sense him-? He touched me… i was sure i had it on… those eyes, they’re breathtaking… who is he? Why do i feel like I should know him? Wait… he’s…’

~3rd person POV~

“Cursed.” They both mumble at the same time causing both their eyes to widen, both taking a step back from the other.

The warm, carbon filled air suddenly feels a whole lot more suffocating, the feeling tugging at both of them gets stronger and they both know the other feels it.

It’s an odd sight, two unsupervised 9 year old standing in the middle of a busy Shibuya street just silently staring at each other in what can only be described as bewilderment.

For the longest time they’ve both believed them to have no equal. From the moment they opened their eyes they were forced to live in a word beneath them filled with people beneath them. They were put on pedestals so high no one else could ever hope to climb it and yet…

Their lonely pedestal is apparently bigger than they thought, all they had to do was turn around and be confronted with the other.

A shared pedestal is something everyone told them was impossible, they were born Gods among mortals, they were special, miracles, forever alone.

“Goto M/n…” M/n, finally regaining his brain, blurts out, feeling something he’s never felt before, nervous.

“Gojo Satoru…” Satoru eventually replies, having taken a few more seconds to recover and identify the unknown feeling in his chest, anxiety.

“We should probably lose them first before we talk…” M/n suggests, hesitantly turning his gaze away from Satoru and toward one of the groups of curse users currently hiding out in a tall building across the street with horror on their faces because the sheer amount of power coming from the two Gods is mind breaking.

Satoru turns his gaze towards another group hiding on a rooftop few building’s down with the same expression and hums in agreement. He slowly reaches out to grab M/n’s hand, he doesn’t know why but he just does.

The moment their skin makes contact they both jump, the feeling of physically touching another is so foreign, so intrusive yet so natural.

They quickly easy into the feeling, Satoru pulling M/n along and M/n following without complaint.

This action feels so normal it’s almost easy to forget the innocent looking 9 year old boys are running away from assassins hunting Gods not boys.

They both in this moment, forget they are Gods, they forget they are cursed, they both, even if only for a fleeting moment just feel like two normal boys, running freely through the streets of Shibuya, unsure of when they actually started running but unwilling to spend any time thinking about it.

They just run, the destination isn’t a concern to either of them and after running for what felt like both a lifetime and barely a second they stop in a dark, dirty alleyway, joyful laughter still bubbling from their chests as they catch their breath.

“Phew, I’m pretty sure we lost them.” Satoru comments as he leans against the wall, relaxing a bit more because he can’t sense anyone else.

“Hmm, it would be foolish of them to follow.” M/n adds, leaning on the opposite wall, also relaxing.

A short, comfortable silence envelopes the two Gods as their gazes lock, again being completely caught off guard by the other’s eyes. Millions of questions run through both of their minds, having finally found another like them is something they didn’t think possible , they were told it’s impossible.

“How… how did you touch me? Get past my barrier which I’m positive was active?” M/n asks incredulously, he should be absolutely horrified someone can bypass his technique but he isn’t.

Satoru looks at M/n in slight shock, now being made aware the other also had a barrier active at the time of contact.

“I… I don’t know, i also had a barrier active so maybe they cancelled out?” Satoru would have never thought he’d say that with such a casual tone, someone being able to bypass the one thing that makes him untouchable, he should see M/n as a threat but he doesn’t.

“So we both have a kind of barrier technique and they cancel out somehow… that should be horrifying right? Our one impenetrable defence rendered useless…” M/n’s voice drops to a low whisper but there’s no hint of defensiveness, simply taking in the fact he can be touched, he’s not unbeatable.

“It should but honestly it just makes me excited ya know?” Satoru chuckles, his eyes sparkling even more as his usual cold expression replaced a small grin, his heart is still pounding in his chest, the tugging feeling getting stronger the longer the talks to M/n.

M/n mirrors Satoru’s expression, feeling the same pounding in his chest, the tugging feeling moving his feet forward as he takes a seat on the floor next to Satoru, his barrier preventing his clothes from getting dirty. Satoru quickly joins him, activating his own barrier to stay clean.

Although both of them are just 9 years old, being born basically ‘God’s’ they naturally possessed some basic control of their techniques, both already having trained to use their techniques for a few hours none stop before they get tired.

“It is isn’t, my entire life I’ve been told no one would be able to challenge me and I thought how boring that sounds, they said I stand on a pedestal made for Gods and that I alone stand atop it, atop everyone else and then I thought how… lonely that sounded…” M/n says, pulling his legs to his chest as he rests his head on his knees, looking at his new found friend.

Satoru adopts the same pose, his mind and soul filled with pure joy as M/n speaks because he understands, he understands so well and he never thought someone else would understand.

“Mhm, they called me blessed my entire life, a miracle. Showering me in praises and gifts alike, telling me how special I am, how I’m better than everyone else. They also call me a God, put me on a pedestal too tall for a kid… They don’t see the view from the top, they don’t see how big and empty that pedestal is…”

M/n listens to Satoru, there’s something freeing in listening to him speak, like a weight lifted off his shoulders, the weight of being called the strongest and the loneliness that comes with it, a weight no 9 year old should even have to know about.

“Well it was big and empty but perhaps we can share it?” M/n asks with a hopeful tone, somehow already knowing he doesn’t really need to ask.

“I… I would like that. Our pedestal?” Satoru has never felt this type of excitement, the idea of sharing, being equal to someone else, of not being alone is enough to make him feel like a normal kid.

“Our pedestal.” M/n repeats, the word ‘our’ rolling off his tongue so naturally.

“So what do you normally do for fun? When you’re actually allowed to do what you want ?” Satoru asks, clearly excited to do whatever friends do when they hang out, he’s excited because he doesn’t really known what others do because he’s never bothered to pay attention to anyone else, they were beneath him so there was no point in getting to know them but now, now he’s never been more interested in another.

M/n grins, suddenly standing up and looking down at Satoru with a sparkles in his already spectacular eyes. Satoru still can’t believe he likes someone else’s eyes more than his own, his attention immediately glued on M/n. They both feel that tug again as M/n extends his hand towards Satoru, the idea of physical contact regardless of their barriers still seems so absurd but so enticing.

“Wanna find out?”

Satoru takes M/n’s hand, the unfamiliar warmth of another comforting their souls , penetrating their minds. M/n pulls Satoru up and their hands stay linked as they exit the alleyway, M/n leading the way, unknowingly staring the first chapter in a very long and dangerous book.

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Tag list-

@itsgivingitalian

[mirisss]

The Beauty Inside of You

Ateez OT8 x afab! reader

True Beauty (K-drama) inspired. In this, all members of Ateez are the same age as (Y/n). 

Warnings: Bullying (both physical and verbal), low self-esteem, angst, sort of mentioning suicide (not saying it outright but saying something like “thought you were gone forever”). 

Wordcount ≈ 2.8k

Thank you for the request! I hope you like it! 

Please reblog! 

Third Person POV

Cherry’s Café is one of Seoul's most popular cafés. Located in a small and cozy building is a family-run café that has grown into one of the city’s most loved cafés. The (L/n) family opened the café 22 years ago just before their firstborn child was born, now 22 years later, the family has three children. (L/n) Jaehyun, the oldest, (L/n) Yunjin, the middle child, and (L/n) (Y/n), the youngest. (Y/n) is still in high school while her older siblings are studying at university but most of the time, they work at the café along with their parents. 

(Y/n) is a sweet and nice girl who focuses on her studies, she has a nice friend group at school. She isn’t one of those loud kids, she’s more on the quiet side. This is why most people were surprised when they found out that (Y/n) was dating the resident bad boys of the school, the eight boys known by their ‘gang’ name, Ateez. 

Kim Hongjoong, Park Seonghwa, Choi San, Kang Yeosang, Song Mingi, Jung Wooyoung, Choi Jongho, and Jeong Yunho, also known as Ateez. The eight resident bad boys, while it’s known that they have been in a fight or two, mostly people call them bad boys because of the way they dress and the fact that they feel so, untouchable. 

Everyone was surprised when Ateez began hanging out with (Y/n) and her friend group, and soon enough when Ateez announced that they and (Y/n) were dating. Most people just congratulated them and moved on, while some people couldn’t accept that (Y/n) had landed the eight hottest boys in school. However, these people, mostly girls, couldn’t let others see their distaste for the relationship so they pretended to be nice until they were alone with (Y/n). 

“Ya, (Y/n), you ugly bitch!” (Y/n) quickly looked up at the mirror to see who was behind her in the bathroom, finding a group of 5 girls that she had seen around school but never really interacted with. “What?” (Y/n) was confused, why were these girls cussing her out? “What? Don’t play dumb. You're an ugly bitch who doesn’t deserve to live,” “I’m not playing dumb, what have I ever done to you?” The group laughed mockingly while glaring at (Y/n). “You stole our boyfriends,” “I didn’t know you guys had boyfriends,” “Ateez were ours, not yours, but now you’ve stolen them,” The girl who appeared to be the leader of the group pushed (Y/n)’s shoulder harshly so that her back bumped into the sink behind her. 

“They have never said anything about past girlfriends or boyfriends,” Just as the girls were preparing to continue the argument, someone approached the bathroom door so the group dispersed and went out. (Y/n) thought the interaction was weird but she shook it off as a one-time thing. However, she was wrong. Each day, it seemed like those girls harassed her more and more. It started as just verbal harassment but the more (Y/n) stood up for herself, the more agitated the girls became which resulted in their abuse turning from verbal to physical. 

The first time they turned physical wasn’t too bad. Once again, they were in the bathroom. (Y/n) was backed up against a wall, the leader of the group held a lukewarm cup of water in her hand that she threw in (Y/n)’s face. It stung but fortunately, it wasn’t boiling warm so no real damage was made. “Break up with them or this will become worse,” The leader said as she glared at (Y/n). “Woah, look at her face, so ugly,” Another one of the girls proclaimed loudly. 

Because of the lukewarm water, her make-up had been ruined, revealing red-blemished cheeks. The redness came mostly from the warm water but also from light acne. The girls laughed at her and mocked her for her ‘ugly’ face. “Shut up, there’s nothing wrong with my face,” The girls left laughing like hyenas after that. (Y/n) cried a few tears as she tried to clean herself up. 

Each day the bullying became worse. But she didn’t say anything to her family or her boyfriends. The Ateez boys noticed that she was dressing differently from before, more long sleeves and pants rather than t-shirts and skirts. But they put it up to winter approaching, the cold weather requiring warmer clothes. 

“(Y/n)-ah, sweety, want to go see a movie after school?” “Sure, Yunho. Which movie should we watch? Are the others joining us?” “Mm, Mingi is coming and I think Hongjoong’s coming too. We’re thinking of watching that new comedy movie or the new horror movie, any movie in particular that you want to see?” “I don’t care, as long as I’m with you guys I’ll be happy!” Yunho pulled (Y/n) into a tight hug as they laughed, soon enough their teacher came and Yunho had to move to his own seat. 

Later that day, (Y/n), Yunho, Mingi, Hongjoong, and Jongho who decided to join them, were standing in line to buy their tickets and snacks. The group of girls who bullied (Y/n) followed them to the cinema, upset that (Y/n) didn’t seem to take them seriously. The girls walked over to (Y/n) and the boys, sickly sweet fake smiles on their faces as they pretended to be friends with (Y/n). “(Y/n)? Omg, so nice to run into you here, oh, and some of the Ateez boys too!” Hongjoong noticed the uncomfortable look in (Y/n)’s eyes as she noticed the girls. “Hi, I’m Yunho. Are you friends with (Y/n)?” “Yes, I’m surprised you haven’t noticed us before,” The girls tried their best to flirt with Yunho as he was the only one to give them any attention. “We have to go now, goodbye,” Hongjoong said before he pulled his s/o’s with him, leaving the cinema. 

“Huh? Weren’t we gonna see a movie?” Jongho questioned. “Yeah, but I think I rather do it at home,” Hongjoong muttered as they continued walking. After they were far from the cinema, he came to a stop, turning to look at (Y/n). “Who are those girls?” “I don’t know, they go to our school, I never really talk with them,” “You seemed uncomfortable when they came around,” “I just don’t know them, that’s all,” The boys bought (Y/n)’s explanation and went to the boys' apartment to watch a movie. 

A few weeks later, (Y/n) was in charge of closing up her family’s café as her parents and siblings were away at a meeting. With only five minutes left until closing time, the café was pretty much empty. The sky was dark outside, the wind cold and harsh as winter was just days away. She was cleaning up behind the counter when the bell over the door rang, indicating that someone had walked inside. She turned around with a smile, ready to welcome whoever this last-minute customer was. However, her smile dropped as she was met with the disapproving glares of the girls from her school. 

“Hello ugly,” “Welcome to Cherry’s Café, how can I help you?” “You can help us by disappearing, you disgrace of a human being,” “We close in 3 minutes, do you wish to buy some muffins or a cake?” (Y/n) tried her best to keep her cool and act professional, but the girls were making it hard for her. “Whoops,” The leader of the girls pushed a beautiful cake off the counter onto the floor. “No!” (Y/n) exclaimed. “Wow, you are one clumsy girl,” Another one of them said as she proceeded to take some muffins and cupcakes and throw them on the floor. Another girl took a cupcake with a lot of frosting on it, walked over to (Y/n), and harshly smudged it into (Y/n)’s face. “What a messy girl, how can you represent a nice place like this when you look like a pig?” 

The girls continued tormenting (Y/n) by trashing the café, throwing cakes and sweets all over the floor and some on (Y/n). Even taking the water (Y/n) had prepared to use to mop the floor and pouring it over (Y/n)’s head. Sooking her in half-dirty water. (Y/n) began crying, seeing her family’s beloved café trashed, and hearing all the insults the girls were throwing her way. One of the girls took up her phone and began recording (Y/n), who sat on the dirty floor, crying, begging them to stop. 

“Please stop, please,” “Oh? What was that? You pig, this is your mess, hmm? Pigs belong in dirty pigsties after all,” “Remember, you’re nothing more than an ugly pig,” The girls themselves couldn’t be seen in the video, only (Y/n). Once they had ruined every single cake and sweet in the café, they left. (Y/n) stayed on the floor crying for a few minutes before she got up and began cleaning up. Not wanting her parents to find the café trashed. 

2 days later, the bullies posted the video of (Y/n) crying in the café on the school’s home page and all the social media that they could access. Almost everyone at school had seen the video, and while they didn’t find (Y/n) as ugly as those girls said, they laughed at her for looking so pathetic. As she walked through the corridors people laughed at her, some even making grunting noises to imitate a pig. (Y/n) couldn’t take it anymore and ran away crying. She ran out of school, just running as far as she could. 

(Y/n)’s head teacher had seen the video and immediately called her parents to inform them of the situation. “Mr. Kim, what is this about? Has (Y/n) done something?” Her mother asked, worried after being requested to come to the school instantly. “(Y/n) hasn’t done anything, this is about a situation that involves your daughter and some other girls who are suspected of attending this high school. Let me show you a video that was anonymously posted on the school’s page,” Mr. Kim showed them the video, (Y/n)’s parents almost began crying as they saw how their youngest daughter was being treated. “As of right now, we don’t know where (Y/n) is, her friends told us that she ran out of school after some people made fun of her in the corridors,” “Oh, this is terrible, we have to find her,” Her parents tried to call her but (Y/n) wasn’t answering. She had turned off her phone, not wanting to see any more mean comments about her. 

Seonghwa, San, Wooyoung, and Yeosang were hanging out at Ateez’s place with a close friend of Wooyoung’s, Changbin. They had decided to ditch school that day and just chill at home. Changbin was using his phone, just scrolling through social media when he came upon a video with a girl that looked fairly familiar. “Hey, isn’t this (Y/n), your girlfriend?” He showed the other boys the video. “What the hell? Yeah, that’s (Y/n),” “Who the fuck did this to her?” All of them felt their blood boiling as they saw the tears falling down their girlfriend’s face. Seonghwa picked up his, dialing Hongjoong’s number. “Have you seen the video?” Was the first thing Seonghwa asked as Hongjoong picked up. “Yeah, just saw it, do you know where (Y/n) is? She’s not picking up our calls” “I might have an idea,” Seonghwa said before they hung up. Seonghwa sent the address to Hongjoong before they all hurried to try and find (Y/n). 

After about an hour, the eight boys had grouped up and finally, they found (Y/n). She was sitting in a small park that not many people went to. She once mentioned that she would go to this park when she was feeling down. (Y/n) said that she used to hang out at that park with her siblings when they were younger. “(Y/n), baby,” Wooyoung said as he walked over to her, enveloping her in a gentle hug. Soon enough, the entire group had joined the hug as (Y/n) cried. 

“Why didn’t you tell us that they were bullying you?” San asked, his eyes just as teary as (Y/n)’s. “I thought I could handle it, it wasn’t that bad in the beginning, but then it just became worse and worse,” “You should have come to us, we want to be there for you,” Yeosang said as he caressed (Y/n)’s cheek, wiping away some of the tears that stained it. “I know, but, I just, I just wanted to be strong,” “Asking for help is also being strong,” Mingi said as he pulled off his coat, putting it over (Y/n)’s shoulders. When she left the school she didn’t have her jacket with her so she had been sitting in the park in the cold without a jacket. 

“Come on, I think you should go home. Your family must be worried sick about you,” Seonghwa said. The boys walked her home, knocking on the door as they arrived. Yunjin was the one who opened the door, she immediately threw herself at (Y/n), pulling her into a tight hug. “(Y/n), omg, you’re okay, we were so worried, mom and dad are out of their minds, they thought you were gone forever,” “Mom! Dad! (Y/n)’s here,” Jaehyun yelled as he came to the door to check who it was. Their parents came running out and joined Yunjin in hugging (Y/n). Jaehyun soon joined the hug too. 

“Darling, we were so worried. The school called and they showed us this terrible video of you being bullied at the café, and then you didn’t answer our calls and you were gone for hours,” “I’m sorry mom,” “It’s okay, honey. You’re home now, it’s all fine,” “Thank you for bringing her home boys,” (Y/n)’s dad said as he turned to the eight boys that stood a few steps behind them. “No worries, we were worried about her too. I’m sorry we didn’t call you the second that we found her,” Jongho apologized to them as Ateez all looked down at the ground. 

“Would you boys want to join us for dinner?” (Y/n)’s mom asked as she smiled with teary eyes at the boys. (Y/n)’s family might not have known about her relationship with the eight boys yet, but all they knew was that these boys cared deeply for (Y/n) and (Y/n) for them. “We’d love to,” Seonghwa answered. The dinner helped (Y/n) cheer up as both her family and her boyfriends joked around to make her smile. Hongjoong later asked (Y/n) if the girls they ran into at the cinema were the ones who had bullied her, and when she confirmed his suspicion he went to the teacher and told them who the people behind it were. The girls were then suspended from school and their parents had to pay a fine to the café because of what the girls had done. Ateez also took it upon themselves to make sure no one else would hurt (Y/n) ever again. 

“Am I ugly?” (Y/n) asked one late night as she and Ateez sat in the boys’ living room. “Why would you ask that?” Yeosang proclaimed as he shook his head. “You’re the prettiest girl in the world, so no, you’re not ugly,” Yunho said. “It’s just, those girls kept calling me ugly and a pig, just because I have some acne, so I don’t know, I guess I began feeling like I actually am ugly,” “Don’t listen to them, you are beautiful just the way you are. No matter if you’re tall or short, have clear skin or not, no matter how you look on the outside you will be pretty because you are so wonderful and beautiful on the inside,” Jongho answered as all of the boys looked at (Y/n) with nothing but love in their eyes. “I love you guys,” “We love you too,” 

[royalsweetteaa]

Love me, please

Pairing: dom!Max Burnett x sub!reader

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

WARNING - The following fic contains: SPOILERS, explicit smut, fluff, unprotected sex, hard sex, cumshot (facial), face fucking/deepthroat, needy!Max, Max is touch starved, daddy kink, family pretend (fake incest?), kissing/make out, slight degradation, pet names.

Summary: You and Max are a part of what other people would view as the perfect family. If only they knew…

3rd person POV

It was another morning at the Hobbes’ mansion. Max stood up around lunch like usual after spending a good amount of time at the bar the day before, fooling around for a bit until he got bored and returned home.

As he was leaving his room, he noticed the wide open door of the empty bedroom belonging to his mother and billionaire step father while passing by. He didn’t think much of it at first, until he got to the living room and heard a familiar sound - someone humming a song alongside the radio playing quietly in the background.

Still in his pajama shorts and t-shirt, he walks over to the kitchen where the sound came from, and was met by a glance from none other than his sister.

In a frozen state with her muzli filled spoon shoved in her mouth, she smiles, greeting him once she’s swallowed the spoon full. He laughs, returning the morning greeting.

“Where’s mom?” Max asks her, as he sits down across her by the kitchen island where she was finishing eating her cereal.

“She’s out with Richard.” She informed, unbothered. “Both left an hour ago saying they wish to spend the whole day catching up on their love or whatever.”

“Mhm,” Max responded with a simple hum. It was always quiet around the house, but with the knowledge of their ‘parents’ being away for the rest of the day, it felt more quiet and peaceful. More peaceful because there was no reason to pretend anymore. To be cautious. It was just her and him.

Unless…

“What about Tom? He around somewhere?”

“Nope,” she spoke, popping the ‘p’, “He’s at work, presumably doing nothing other than taking care of his books at his bookshop.” Her tone hinted to be condescending, and Max could hardly blame her.

He laughed, “Our stepbrother is a bit of a loser, isn’t he? And Richard’s wondering why we aren’t hanging out together all three. He’s just too different from us.”

She sighed with a chuckle, “He sure is…in more ways than one.”

Her wording sounded harmless, but Max knew the true meaning behind it. Anyone but them wouldn’t know a thing.

“And how are you, my dear sister?” Max spoke up again, trailing the sentence with humor. “How did you sleep last night?” He asked, as he stood up to walk over to her who was taking the last spoonful into her mouth.

She smirked, shaking her head. “Like a log.”

He kissed her forehead, wrapping his arms around her waist before he rested his chin on the top of her head.

“That’s good.” He replied softly. “How about we do something fun, hm? Let’s watch a movie, have a drink. Entertain ourselves. Bond with each other. Just like the good old days….”

2nd person POV

The TV was on in low volume, filling in as background noise while you and Max we’re doing something not so sibling like.

Empty shots and a bottle of brandey was on the table, the light coming from the TV screen illuminated through the bottle. The blinds were closed around the whole living room, giving the two of you secured privacy. Max was on top of you on the couch, trapping you beneath him while cupping your crotch as he made out with you.

In the eyes of everyone else and their knowledge, your current actions would have been deemed to be so wrong. But it wasn’t.

Because you were in fact not siblings. Your displayed sibling dynamic was a facade, - fake. Just like Madeline’s love for the Manhattan billionaire Richard.

It was nothing new.

Just regular business, - the ultimate con to get the money you were in the long process of stealing. You were stealing big, and there were no suspicions of it.

Not with how wholesome you were making out to be as the two siblings with a single mother who now have become a completed family with the widowed billionaire and his alone child.

But it wasn’t all business now, was it?

In the midst of your make out session, Max pulled you to get comfy on his lap, raising his hips to grind his bulge against your heated core.

Your tongues leave each other when you pull away for air, and Max decides to ask the question that he has pondered in his head for some time. Something he was already certain of knowing but needed reassurance of.

“This is real, right?” He asks, as he puts a hair strand behind your ear. “This… our relationship…you’re not faking it, are you?”

“Why would you think that?”

“I’m asking…games aside…you love me, right?”

Your guard was now lowered to the ground, with the reveal of your true nature coming to light as your eyes darken with lust. “Of course I love you, Max…you’re very dear to me. My dearest…”

Max smirked, his grip becoming firmer the more he let silence fill the moments.

“That’s good to know.” He muttered as he stared deep into your eyes. “I know how much you love me, but how about you let daddy know too? Show me.”

Nothing more had to be said. The two of you started to undress, exchanging a kiss for each piece of cloth that left your bodies. You eagerly dragged Max’s pajama shorts down, revealing his cock, fully erect and left twitching as he kept his gaze on you who was removing the last undergarment on yourself.

“Touch me, Y/N…” he ordered, and with a hum you complied. You sat on his lap again, touching his bare chest with sensual strokes while you sucked bruises on his neck.

You left his lap and got on your knees, presenting yourself between his legs. His gaze followed you intently when your kisses went further down from his stomach to his thighs, dangerously close to his cock.

Before Max could make an order, your lips met his angry red tip, kissing it teasingly before you sunk down further in for more.

“Good girl…always such a good girl for daddy…” Max praised you, and it made your lips quirk into a smile while still wrapped around his tip. Slowly you began to take him down your mouth, salvaging the salty taste of his precum.

Max groaned audibly, resting his palm on his face as he took in the pleasure of having his cock sucked. It felt too good, and he knew it was more than because of your excellent blowjob techniques - it was because it was you. He found you perfect in every way. Having your sweet cheeks hollow as you swallowed him whole was everything to him.

Even money aside, you meant everything to him.

He rasps softly, “Daddy wants his cock down your throat. Think you can give me what I want?”

Your head tilted slightly with glossy eyes. You had taken him halfway so far, but you knew you could take all of him like previous times. You had practiced with him and he had trained you well.

“Go ahead then.” He ordered.

He put his hand on your head, encouraging you to take him deeper, and you did. You bobbed your head slowly, the slick around the base of his cock helping the process go faster.

His breath hitched when you got to the base, your nose nudging his stomach telling him so without looking. Ignoring the slight pain in your throat because of his thick cock, you face fucked yourself harder, continuing a rough pace with Max’s hand pushing the back of your head, holding you firmly.

“Mmh, fuck! I’m not going to last long. Will you let me use you, sweetheart? Please? I know you’ll be so good for me.” You nod as best as you can before he bucks his hips eagerly, keeping your head shoved down as he used your throat to cum. With a strained groan, he spills his load inside down your throat, keeping you down before he lets go. You gasp for ear, slick running down your chin which Max gathers with the use of his thumb and into your mouth.

“Swallow it all, sweetie…it’s all for you.” Max coaxed. He heard the sound of your throat gulp down his sticky substance, and he smiled with satisfaction. “There you go. Got a nice fill in your tummy, hm? Daddy’s so proud of you, hon.” He praised, and you giggled shyly as he approached your lips for a kiss.

Max’s cock shines in your spit, perfectly lubed of it to pierce through you in one thrust. Max knows your body well, and based on the wet slick running down your thighs, he knows you’re ready.

He motions you to settle on the couch and to turn around with your ass up in the air, your face against the pillow as Max got himself steady on the limited space. “Gonna fuck you so thoroughly, you won’t be needing anything else for weeks. You ready for it, sweetie?”

“Mhm!” You hum eagerly.

“Beg for it nicely, sweetheart.”

“Yes, daddy! I need your cock inside of me right now! Please! Need it so bad!” You plead, and it’s all Max needed to hear before he takes you.

Max lines up his cock and pushes your back against the cushions before he shoves his cock inside your quivering cunt, making you yelp out loud from the sudden intrusion.

“Fuck,” He groans, slamming his cock in and out of you. “Such a dirty little slut for me, aren’t you? You want it harder? Want daddy’s cock ruining your pussy for anyone else?”

“Oh fuck...yes daddy, yes! More!” You cry out, pleadingly.

Max grants your wish by quickening up the pace immediately and sets a brutal pace. He rests his upper body against your back, entertaining your ears by whispering sweet nothings against them. His hands finds your breasts beneath you, and he cups them as he lowers his body, getting closer to you. He becomes more pleading by the minute, needing to hear those words coming from your lips again as he chases his high.

“Please, love me. Say you love me, sweetheart. Say it -“

“Ohh! I love you so, so much, daddy!”’ You moaned out as he kept fucking into you relentlessly. “I love you so fucking much! Aah, I don’t think I could ever live without you, Max!”

Your confession makes Max’s heart flutter with delight. He needed to hear that so bad.

“That’s good,…cause I don’t think…I could live without my sweet girl either…fuck!” He spoke, his out of breath causing pauses in his sentence. He felt your pussy tighten around him once more just then, making him undone. “M’gonna paint your cute face after you cum, okay sweetie? Want to fucking mark you.”

“Do it…” you permitted, before your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he ripped an orgasm out of you. “shit, daddy! I’m gonna - Mmmh -!!” You muffled your moan onto the pillow, and Max smirked at his successful doings of making you into an empty headed slut. Your eyes were dazed with your mouth agape, drool leaving your mouth as he kept taking what he needed from your body.

Eventually Max pulled out, making you whine from the absence of his cock filling your cunt, and he crawled over with his cock towering your face, stroking desperately to have his release. You rolled over to face him, the scenery in front of you being so lewd you knew you would be touching yourself to the memory until you find a moment to be together again like this.

His hips stuttered and he came all over your face, your eyes blinking from getting any of it in the eye. You poked your tongue out, hoping to taste more of his spunk as you were addicted to it. He stroke his length once more, directing his tip onto your tongue to get the last bead of seed on your tastebuds, and you moaned from savoring it.

Before any of you rose up, Max hunched over you once again, capturing your lips for a passionate kiss before you inevitably had to go back to pretend. Pretend like this never happened. That he hadn’t just fucked the soul out of you or used your throat like a fleshlight.

It was frustrating having to stay away from each other for weeks on end, but you knew you would be blessed with days like this once in a while. Where you could act out your pent up sexual frustrations. Where you could love each other.

It would all be worth it when you receive the money you were cheating your way into getting. Only then could you get your happily ever after.

But until then…

“Let’s get you cleaned up, sis. Don’t want any members of our perfect family to see what I’ve done to your pretty face.”

A/N: First S.S. character fic! Starting out with Max Burnett!

Hearts & Reblogs are very appreciated! Thanks for the support! <3

[anomonos]

I genuinely believe that this whole discourse AMONG THE FANS about q!Sunny and q!Philza is just a simple case of bad miscommunication. Both in role-play and out of role-play. Something cc!Phil AND q!Philza alway establish is that the museum is an area that is outside of role-play. Sometimes he does bend that rule, however, majority of the time most conversations in there he doesn’t take seriously. However, the admin for q!Sunny chose to make that conversation about q!Tallulah cannon which there is absolutely nothing wrong in doing so. As a matter fact, I feel this is a very great story opportunity for an egg to have some slight tension towards another parent and am curious to see where this goes.

I can’t stress enough that what q!Sunny is feeling is absolutely valid for their character. Obviously an adult making light of very serious topics when their parent happens to leave is scary. It’s even more scary knowing that q!Sunny’s admin plays her as somewhat younger than the other eggs (at least that is what I have been learning). Of course she’s not gonna see q!Philza in a good light. And that’s fine.

The problem that many q!Philza viewers are getting annoyed by, including myself, is the constant mischaracterization and just plain villainizing of q!Philza by the fanbase .

No. He doesn’t dislike q!Sunny. He thinks she’s cool and often encourages q!Tallulah to get to know her!

No. He’s not resentful of her and taking his frustrations out on her. I genuinely don’t know how this idea came about.

It makes sense for q!Tubbo viewers to assume things about q!Philza based on just cc!Tubbo’s pov alone. They don’t know his character that well unless they watch him. It also makes sense that from q!Tubbo’s and q!Sunny’s pov, q!Philza is kinda rude and insensitive.

On that same thought, it makes sense for q!Philza to genuinely be unaware that his words and tone are scary/mean to both q!Tubbo and q!Sunny. He doesn’t know.

Two things can be true at once.

Just like people are allowed to dislike a character and their actions just as much as people are allowed to defend a character.

The whole thing about q!Philza’s tone is another can of worms entirely. Cc!Phil is quite literally a blunt, no bullshit type of guy. That’s literally how he is with EVERYONE, eggs included. But once again, q!Sunny is valid in feeling scared and a little put off by it.

This goes for both sides in saying that they just don’t know each other that well to read/understand each other. That’s why it’s so important that q!Sunny and/or q!Tubbo COMMUNICATE their feelings. Otherwise how is q!Philza supposed to know?

—

As a cc!Phil viewer, it really sucks seeing so many people paint q!Philza as this malicious figure that is INTENTIONALLY trying to bully an insecure child when that just isn’t the case. Could he have worded things better? Of course. Does that mean he was trying to make q!Sunny feel bad? No. Once again, it’s just bad miscommunication. Something that can easily be cleared up by both adults talking.

It’s also crazy to me that this got blown all out of proportion based on 1 damn sign talking about his tone.

Either way, you can like/dislike whoever you want. Just remember that it’s not always black and white.

[byizoyas]

2023/byizoyas. — pls do not plagiarize or repost and claim as yours ! thank you very much :)

❛ ACE OF HEARTS ❜ ; a multi love interests written genshin series.

status: still in progress but it shall be starting soon.

genre. modern/mafia?? au ig. assassin!reader (gender neutral)

synopsis. ‘a genius’, ‘a ruthless murderer’, ‘teyvat’s righter of wrongs’… such are the way they call you through the whole country. indeed the pseudonym ‘crimson’ you use to hide your true name isn’t unknown anymore. some people praise you, some others only wait for your downfall. and in the middle of these crowds of hypocritical following idiots, you find yourself struggling to lead your life the way that you want. you owe a certain someone called morax a massive amount of money and since you have no choice but to work for him as his personal hitman you almost lost your ability to feel anything along the way; as if you lived only to serve that man and fulfill his cruel orders. yet, you can be thankful to him for he is, indirectly, the reason you met people that are going to change your life. will they change it for the best or for the worst ? this, you can only know after you make decisions. the way is going to be a long and difficult one. hopefully, someone will be there to catch you by the end of your journey.

✦: meets with reader through the fic. ✧: already knows reader.

✕ male leads. (5) alhaitham, ayato, childe, diluc, kaveh.

✦ ; alhaitham as the main target and y/n ‘enemy’

✧ ; ayato as y/n former partner in crime and actual friend with benefits

✦ ; childe as y/n current partner in crime, new in this job

✧ ; diluc as the cop in charge of some cases involving y/n, also happens to be y/n childhood friend

✦ ; kaveh as alhaitham’s friend and y/n indirect target to get to alhaitham

✕ main characters /outside ml and reader/ zhongli, pantalone, lumine, yae miko, kaeya, rosaria, dainsleif (more to be added as the series goes by probably)

✕ notes. GN/AFAB!READER cursing. heavy dose of angst. smut and suggestive scenes. mature themes that might not suit everyone’s taste (anything triggering will be tagged on top of a chapter!!) random updates cuz the whole thing isn’t written, i’m improvising ehe. dainslumi mentions. no heavy romantic feelings (love basically) towards the 5 men shall be described from reader pov since i want y’all to help me choose who y/n will end up with.

✕ taglist is always open, just send an ask or comment this post to be added.

CHAPTERS.

𝐈. the tower

more to come

reblogs, comments and likes are genuinely appreciated, thanks for your time & support!

[elizakai]

revealing my true analyst self 😪💫

When it comes to media I enjoy I get so much brain-rot, and zuchiyeni’s idol! Au has been plaguing me, so I thought I’d share for anyone mildly interested. And I’m definitely totally not procrastinating.

these are just headcanons (?) and ideas mwaha.

I WANT TO TALK ABOUT IDOL DREAM✨ because it’s dream.

(⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️)

VOICE WISE , I think it’s pretty universal in fandom to imagine dream’s voice as more ✨feminine✨ (correct me if I’m wrong).

But an au that contains SINGING provides OPPORTUNITY. See, Dream’s well known , recognizable, popular, surely he is unique in some way. “Pretty voice” is Great and all, But he gives me ‘actually talented vocalist’ vibes. like. Imagine he’s got this really pretty atmospheric voice, pretty normal idea. Now ELEVATE THAT. Imagine he has the vocal capacity to be gritty. I’d ASSUME that’s not their music style typically (I have no idea what their music will be like to be clear) but just the ABILITY. To be really raw and powerful. And it comes out sometimes *ascends* that makes it more interesting imo. He’s sweet, mipy cinnamon roll. But boy could keep up with like a metal band if he wanted. That’s just equally funny and amazing.

I have example ideas but I’ll leave that out unless someone wants em so that this isn’t torture text to read hhhhh.

I just. Have brain worms at this point. If you’re still reading this, kudos.💀💫

My brain is also convinced that dream gets passionate in that way when he’s absorbed in emotions rather than performance. Like, if he’s invested in a song, he sometimes disassociates. That’s when the most impressive performances happen either way, I imagine ink and blue let it happen and just keep an eye on him. subtly snap him out of it afterwards.

ONE MORE THING I PROMISE I’ll stop.

He really likes Error. As a celebrity. I have an explanation I promise. Original Dreamtale Dream, according to the creator, has a respect for error. INTERESTING, right? You’d think their opposing morals would suggest otherwise?

This is ME interpreting (SIDE TANGENT)⚠️

But maybe Dream sees some of himself, or understands Error despite not interacting much. The both have a conviction, a belief, and they adhere to/ act on that. …alone. ERROR is convinced that alternates of the original world are bad, so he’s convicted to take care of it. It’s HIS responsibility in his mind. And the task is IMPOSSIBLE. he knows that deep down. But he tries, and he's all alone in it.

DREAM has been conditioned to believe that his worth/ purpose/ existence all ties back to making sure everyone is happy. That’s IMPOSSIBLE. But, he’s convicted of this as his sole purpose. So he tries. And he knows it’s impossible. And he’s all alone in it. They are both just isolated. So while dream doesn’t necessarily agree with him, specifically his erm, methods. (Cause dream DOES understand balance and probably can somewhat understand his pov) he doesn’t hate him, he has RESPECT. EVEN MORE INTERESTING IF YOU INCLUDE INK. He may align with Inks values MORE than Errors. He’s respectful towards and works together with Ink. But I think Ink has lost his respect. It’s confirmed that in dreamtale, dream and ink have some sort of falling out. There’s broken trust. Imagining inks response to dream not disliking error as much as he should is interesting. Lmao ig they both have drama with ink. (END SIDE TANGENT)⚠️

ANYWAYS. Back to applying this to Idol! Error strikes me as a more ‘senior’ idol. I’m just imagining dream enjoys watching his performances and keeping up with his fanbase, just. Happily watching interviews and listening to his music sometimes. <3 Does he entirely emulate him? no X) he just liked him. And if he takes notes sometimes, that’s his business.

ink: ‘REALLY? THIS GUY? He’s an Asshole!!!’

dream: *sighs dreamily* yeah…

meanwhile blue probably has managed to casually say hi to the guy and make friends. Dreams too shy. An interaction would be very awkward. But an colab would be an drEaM come true .(wow! So funny!) Ink half heartedly hating the guy.

also I’m JUST saying.

Error. Dream. messed up. sleep.

Insomnia. I JUST. Like the idea. *evaporates* if I count as a fan, the fans want a colab >:(

I’m going to assume we all already are guessing dream and nightmare have some sort of drama🤪. I really like the idea of the MT.trio and The Stars performing together , despite probably being rivals, but I wonder if MT.trio looking up to Nightmare would affect that. Like, depending on how the twins feel towards each other, Nm might be like ‘avoid dat biatch’ and the trio is like ‘yes yes, very bad’ 😪✨ (also if what are their FANBASES like???? Like interacting with each other?? Drama much?) also I guess this could apply to Error. Is he a rival to nightmare? Are they friendly? Either way, does he care much about nightmares opinion? If they are RIVALS him interacting with dream and crew is funny.

(I imagine blue is friends with like everyone anyway. And ink probably would tolerate him if he had to.) but If nightmare is negative towards dream, and Error is a friend of his, it’s kind of great imagining Error just being chill and aloof but mentally assessing dream when they interact, keeping in mind what nightmare has said. Next time nightmare complains about his brother errors like ‘lol ur little bro seems perfectly normal but ok hoe B)’ *proceeds to hang with both of them*

(god it’s longer than I wanted ahem.)

ANYWAYS.

I NEED TO STOP GOODBYE NOW :) these are all just goofy ideas and now I need to actually go be productive at 2 am.

I like discussing silly things so like, feel free if you somehow read to the bottom💀.

Idol! Dream by @tuxibirdie

Idol! Au by/ belongs to @zucchiyeni

dead brain cells by @ me.

[the-somwthing]

Welcome to my little meta analysis essay called

Why do we misremember Flower Husbands as being “nicer” than it was?

Disclaimer: I’m not here to talk about whether or not FH is “toxic” or anything like that. It’s just a fact that many old fans rewatching FH POV and new fans who are watching it for the first time after seeing fan content tend to be surprised at how they actually behaved in the series compared to how everyone remembered them being back in the day. This will NOT go over whether or not I think FH is unhealthy or whatever and instead just discuss why I believe this phenomenon has happened.

So, if I try to make this a fancy well written essay, I’ll be here all day, so I’ll just get to the point. 3rd Life came out during the DSMP era of mcyt. MCRP has been around for ages, but the DSMP style of RP (which I’ll be calling “smp rp”) was pretty much popularized by DSMP, mostly towards the end of 2020. For reference, 3rd Life started early 2021, so there’s about a half a year between these two events, and DSMP kept going for years so 3rd Life was absolutely happening during the golden era of DSMP.

But what does DSMP have to do with this? Well, it sort of created this idea of “lore” and only specific things being “canon”. You can make fun of me for the way I worded that, but you know what I mean, DSMP was weird about that stuff. I don’t really blame them as it was kind of a new style of RP they accidentally spawned, but still, it was a confusing time for SMPs.

3rd Life was actually less like DSMP and more like the modern SMP RPs, where there’s no (known, lol) scripted events and the fandom itself deciphers what is or isn’t “canon” rather than it being told to them, with mostly everything being considered canon. HOWEVER, I do believe that DSMP’s style did still affect the fandom, specifically with the topic of this essay, Flower Husbands.

But why would it only really affect Flower Husbands? Now we get into a rough topic: shipping discourse. Back in those days, shipping in the mcyt fandom was heavily frowned upon. Moreso than it is today (I know it’s still around, but it was a lot worse the earlier we go lol). I’ve even seen old relics of ppl saying flower husbands should only be portrayed as platonic cuz it’s wrong to ship them, despite their team name literally being husbands. But more importantly, for A LOT of people, flower husbands was the One Ship people felt “allowed” to ship, BECAUSE it was canon. So they would allow FH and shun every other ship.

My point isn’t actually that, with it being the only “acceptable” ship everyone tried to make it more wholesome, though I suppose that could be a contributor. But my ACTUAL point is where all the things I laid out finally close in on each other:

Ships were a Dangerous territory in mcyt fandom, and ships being “canon” was something a lot of people weren’t prepared to deal with. People don’t want to get too close to RPF territory, but back in the day their ideas of c! vs cc! wasn’t as great, so they default to the DSMP Rule of “if it’s stated to be roleplay, then it’s canon to the characters, if not, it’s noncanon and just the CCs hanging out”.

You see where I’m going with this? When trying to follow this rule for a character relationship where they don’t explicitly state what is or isn’t RP, they hear “we’re married” and instantly mark that as canon to the characters since it clearly isn’t true to the CCs, and tend to block out anything else, otherwise you’re risking it not actually being true to the characters. Especially when it’s things like Scott saying something mean about Jimmy; that directly contradicts the “these characters are in love” thing, so it must not be canon, right?

But wouldn’t people still remember that these things happened, or did they actually straight up not process any of it? My answer to that is: of course everyone was paying attention, but with the context that it’s the CCs playing a video game, all of the teasing and other behavior seems WAY less serious. It just looks like average friends playing a hunger games smp together. And as I explained earlier, the fandom was ONLY processing this as a CC thing, so Scott’s treatment of Jimmy never stood out because that’s just how it is playing games.

Back to DSMP, I’m not active in that fandom anymore but I’ll see snippets sometimes, and I’ve seen the claim that beeduo was actually boring in canon and the fandom was the one that made it interesting. I feel like this is exactly what happened with FH. Nobody was actually expecting anyone to go hard into romantic roleplay, so the fans just take whichever pair says they’re getting married and fill in the blanks themselves. And that was normal back then, it wasn’t fans making stuff up for no reason, it was kind of expected of us.

So yeah, I personally believe that this whole confusion about FH is a result of its time. Whether you want to finally look at the actual substance of the relationship rather than following weird rules about what is or isn’t “canon”, or you believe that since FH was from a time where romantic RP was confusing and weird it would make the most sense to take into account the time period it came from and ignore the less appealing bits in favor of the fanon, I don’t really care honestly. But man isn’t this an interesting situation.

[hallowbees]

good evening rottmnt community. so i haven't written fanfic in almost a decade, but whilst taking a break from working on a rottmnt fanfic, i have written... another rottmnt fanfic. i wanted to play around with different povs and tenses than i usually use, and decided to use casey jr and the future timeline to try it out - it was super fun to write, so i thought why not share it!!

you're a lifesaver, casey jones

fives times casey jones junior saves the resistance, and the one time it doesn’t feel like a victory

five months old

You’re only five months old when you save the resistance for the first time. You’re so young.

The shattered remains of a home cradle you, muscle memory from the years of keeping a family long gone safe and warm, and even if you can feel the wind as it whistles through the cracks in the bricks and the sky looms red, enemy drones and rubble floating above you like a cot mobile, you don’t cry. Your little life has already taught you the harshest lesson of the apocalypse, and it’s not that crying won’t get you anywhere; crying will get you somewhere alright, six feet deep in a grave if the wrong ones hear you. Of course you don’t actually know that, not in that way at least, but you do know crying only ever wears you out. Tough lesson to learn, ain't it kid, but you learnt it well. You might just make it yet. 

There’s no telling how long you’ve been here- could have been five minutes, could have been forever, it's all the same to you. It’s unlikely that there are any coherent thoughts rattling around in that little brain of yours yet, but if so, they might sound something like this; I miss you, I miss you, where did you go? I’m hungry, it hurts, I miss you. Where did everyone go? I miss you. The same thoughts plague most brains these days, everyone’s got a ‘you’ to miss. We’ll all be ‘you’ someday, if we’re lucky. God, this is all quite morbid isn’t it, little one? It’s okay, though. Remember, this is a story about how you save them. It’s a happy story, you’ll get your happily ever after, even if they don’t all live.

She looks a lot like you, strangely. It’s something about the eyes, dark and strong, and the general aura of defiance. Maybe that’s why she finds you first, she feels a kinship in your ‘warrior spirit’, as she calls it, ‘a true fighter’, she calls you. ‘They are a baby, babies cannot fight. Primarily because they are still in the very early stages of fine motor skills development and cannot wield weapons yet, amongst other reasons.’ another voice says, but he doesn’t know just how hard you already have fought, will fight still. You’re there, and that is everything these days. She comes to your defence, proclaiming you ‘the strongest fighter of the resistance’, and ‘silence, purple one!’. You can’t tell that the second shout isn’t aimed at you, but what you can tell is that it's warm in her arms and now you only see her and not the broken sky above you. It’s not ‘you’, and you’re still not sure where everyone went, but this still feels comfortable. This feels like home, you think.

That’s the moment you break, and the tears start. You cry, and you cry, and you are surrounded by her. Her voice is low now, a tone rusty in use but so sure of itself as she tells you that you’re okay, you’re safe, she’s got you. ‘Poor thing, they must be so scared.’ comes a new voice, and there's a blur of orange (once you figure out what orange is, it’ll become your favourite colour, one of four favourites) over her shoulder. ‘Ain’t we all.’ comes a low rumble from behind. ‘They won’t be anymore. We’ve got them now.’ she says, and that’s how you meet your strange little family. Some of it, that is - there are more, an aunt and a grandfather or two, so many people ready to love you. 

She doesn’t just give you a name, she gives you hers. You’re Casey Jones Junior, a reminder that something always comes after. You don’t know yet how badly Casey Jones Senior had needed that reminder - she’s spent her whole life in pursuit of what’s next, in hopes that its greater than what’s now (a promotion, a resurrection, a fabled leader) and despair that it never is (better luck next time recruit, they could do it all without her, she breaks the chains that spell his downfall herself). When she finds the apocalypse next, she starts to think that maybe nothing next would be quite alright, but then there’s you and for the first time she truly feels like she’s on the right track. 

She carries you home, her family around her and in her arms, and Casey Jones Senior resolves to keep fighting another day. 

four years old

In your defence, such a sharp weapon should have never been left in your curious reach. In his, there's so much to keep on top of when you’re spearheading a resistance that if a sai or two get misplaced in the process, can anyone really blame him? Your hand is being patched up as he is berated once again, because ‘you know that weapons stay on you at all times, Raph’, and ‘why are they even sharp? Aren’t sai meant to be blunt?’. He groans out something about being a stupid teenager once upon a time, wondering what would happen if he sharpened his weapon the same way his brother did his swords, much out of the same curiosity that got you into this very predicament. He sounds like he might cry, but you can’t work out why. It’s your palm that's bleeding, and you didn’t even make a peep. That might have been the problem, though - no one noticed until your blood was smeared across the floor and that’s a sight no one can stomach. You were scooped up quickly, and he looks haunted. ‘He’ could have been anyone in the room.

“Raph’s sorry, lil’ guy.”. He’s gentle, so gentle, as he kneels before you and takes your bandaged hand. “I promise I won’t leave ‘em out again like that.”. There’s no promise that you won’t get hurt again, because no one likes to break a promise, but the way he smiles at you, still so gentle, makes all the pain go away.

“Can I hold ‘em again when I’m bigger please?” you ask, and of course you can’t see it but there’s a little sparkle in your eyes as you look up at him, glimmering like the stars that are still above you even if you can’t see them anymore, in the sky that no longer belongs to Earth. Let's look on the bright side though; it could still be ours again someday.

“Um… if your Mom says you can, then sure thing, buddy. But only when you’re older.”. Your mom will say yes, she always says yes because there is nothing that a Jones cannot do, so you cheer and throw your tiny little arms around his far bigger neck. You can’t hold all of him, so you just squeeze extra tight so he still feels the love all over. A hand comes to pat you on the back, and you certainly feel loved in his hold. 

“Why’d you want to hold ‘em so bad anyways, bud?” he asks, and you grin. It’s big and toothy, with a little gap right at the front where you lost your first tooth, and thank god that you lost it in the natural way, and not the way most people lose teeth these days.

“I wanna be just like Uncle Raphie!”. He melts, and the tears are back. Rather than wipe them away though, he just squeezes you closer. 

It’s one of the last memories you’ll get of Raphael, so please hold onto it. Hold onto it just as tight as you held onto his neck that day, held him long enough for the blood to seep through your bandages and make its mark on his skin. 

…

Well, anyways - there’s a conversation later that night that you’re not privy to. You’re probably fast asleep by your mother’s side when the clock strikes this antisocial hour. 

“He’s so little. Too little. Casey shouldn’t be even thinking about holding weapons yet.”.

Yet, yet, yet, it’s always yet. Weaponry is waiting for you in the future, and no one can lie, there are keen eyes on you as you play around the resistance base, to spot any signs of affinity for particular weapon types and fighting styles (you’re fast, get up close and personal, and there will be a brute force behind your hits if you really want there to be - someone offhandedly mentions hockey and the blueprints are already being drawn up). 

“Maybe it would be better to start him young. It is inevitable, after all.”. That’s probably the toughest pill for them to swallow, that when you grow up (if, if you grow up - that would be even harder to choke down if they would let themselves even consider it) you’ll be thrown to the front lines. 

But hey - we’re looking on the bright side, remember?

“C’mon guys, enough with the doom and gloom! Think of it this way - at least there will be someone to keep on fighting after us. And he’s going to be far more prepared than we ever could have been. Seriously, he’s like, the apocalypse nepo baby.”. You’d be shocked by how funny the apocalypse could be sometimes. It has to be, because if you don’t laugh you’ll cry, and you already know where crying gets you. It’s not the best joke, but it gets a snort from someone. “He’s got no choice but to succeed. I’m calling it now, Casey’s gonna be the one to end this someday. ”

“S’not much of a bright side. He’ll still have to fight.”. 

“Chin up, big guy. Look at what we’ve achieved already. The kind of things Casey’s going to do with all of us behind him? It’s looking pretty bright to me.”. It goes unsaid that most of them probably won’t be there to see it, but it’s enough for now. The thought of you seeing the other side of this war, even if you have to fight for it tooth and nail, it’s enough to let Raph truly think about what the end of the apocalypse could look like for the very first time since Hell arrived on earth. He thinks of the stars, how they’re still shining brightly and how we will see them again. He can even see a small smattering of them in the bleeding sky when he lays dying a few days later, and his final thought is that maybe we’re already starting to turn the tides. 

seven years old

Most people will probably tell you that celebrating a birthday is a waste of time, resources, and energy. The most cynical of the bunch would probably tell you that we don’t actually know when your birthday is, so why are you so confident that it’s today? But, and please don’t repeat this language, fuck them -  you’re seven years old, and isn’t that just incredible? You feel like the luckiest seven year old in the entire resistance (you’re only one of three in this branch, and Laura’s leg got broken yesterday, so your competition isn’t exactly tough) when your culinary wizard of an uncle manages to scrape together some sort of cake. The adults around you grimace a little when they bite into it (culinary wizard he may be, but there’s only so much magic can do), but you think it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted. It’s dry, and sticks to the roof of your mouth, and you’d hesitate to call it chocolate, but you go in for a second helping, and no one stops you because it’s your birthday! There’s more than enough to go around; your family has gotten a little bit smaller, after all. They’re never truly gone though, because you can always see his red bandana, and you’ll always share your name with her. You don’t really remember anything more than a grey blur, but your grandfather’s famous battle cry continues to echo across the frontlines. You make sure to enjoy your second helping even more than the first, just for them. 

There is one slice of cake left, and it has no business sitting on the plate looking all lonely like that. You’re not sure exactly why he didn’t show up this time, but you’re not going to let your special day pass by without seeing him. It may be your day, but the things that make you happy are so much sweeter when you share them; you think it might be because you love your family’s smiles more than anything else in the whole entire world. Pushing yourself up from the comfortable pile of mostly everyone you love on the floor (if some missions had been shifted around to make sure everyone could be here for you today, then no one was going to complain), you pick up the plate and go to find the missing piece of your family’s jigsaw puzzle.

“Where are you taking that, Case? Trying to sneak a third helping?”. Voices are light, and maybe it’s the most at ease you’ve ever seen your family. Today really is special.

“Nope, it’s Uncle Donnie’s and he’s gotta eat it today because tomorrow it’s just cake and that's much less exciting than birthday cake.”. You’re on a mission, just like the ones your uncles and aunt go on, ones you can’t wait to join them on someday, because you don’t want to be anything other than just like them when you finally grow up. Your aunt has even begun teaching you how to fight, and she always tells you what a natural you are (she feels so guilty about it, because it would be so much easier if you weren’t going to be such a powerhouse on the battlefield; there would maybe be cause to clutch you close to her chest and never let you go otherwise).

You might hear what’s said as you leave. “Casey, buddy, maybe you shouldn’t…”. You don’t let it deter you, even if you do.

“Nah, I say let him try. Maybe he’ll finally get through to that brilliantly dumb brain of his.”.

You guard the cake with your life as you run to the lab, because you can’t possibly wait a second longer to see him. This is the one thing that could make your day go from amazing to perfect. Call it your birthday wish, even if you didn’t have a candle to blow out.

You’re not actually sure when you last saw your uncle beyond a fleeting flash of purple at breakfast time, and that one night last week you had a standoff in the corridor at 3am, because you had a nightmare and wanted your Uncle Mikey, and he needed more coffee (if it was just a bit lighter, you’d have seen his damp eyes, and maybe would have figured out that he needed to seek out his brothers just as much as you). You know when you’re going to see him next, though - in about 30 seconds, because you’re standing in front of his door.

Knock, knock, knock. There isn’t a pattern, you just bang on the door with one hand, careful to balance the plate on your other. Bang, bang, bang. You’re greeted with the rhythmic bang of a hammer in response - or at least you think at first, it doesn’t take much waiting to realise that he probably hasn’t heard you. 

Knock, knock, knock. “Uncle Donnie! I have something for you!” you shout, right at the top of your lungs. Bang, bang - “Just leave it outside the door, I’ll get it later.” - bang.

Well, in that case - you sit down, cross legged and leaning against the door. Because sure, you’re bringing him the cake, but you’re really here because you miss him, and just want a little bit of his time. You think that sounds like a fair exchange; he gets a slice of your best birthday cake ever, and you get five minutes with your beloved uncle. Neither of those come around that often, so you should both make the most of it.

He must have underestimated your attention span, because he has the audacity to look shocked that you’re still there when he opens the door and you fall backwards into the lab with a shout of surprise. It’s only been 20 minutes; you’d wait so much longer than that for him. Miraculously, even in your speedy venture to the floor, the cake is still sitting neatly on its plate, and you hold it up with a wide grin. “I got you cake!”.

A million miles an hour is probably a gross underestimation of how fast your uncle’s brain goes at any given moment, for better or worse. The look on his face suggests that for a moment, his thoughts are speeding even by his standards, and then they promptly smash into a brick wall. You can tell by the way his eyes get a little bit too wide, and his mouth falls open a little - it’s an expression you only see in the rare moments he feels like he’s failed, although all you can see is a success - because there he is! You’re still grinning up at him from the floor, even if your arms are starting to shake from holding the plate up. He shakes away the expression, and quickly takes the plate from you. Only to swiftly discard it on a nearby workbench though, in favour of kneeling down and leaning over to look at your blinding grin. 

“Casey… is it today?” he asks, still a little too wide eyed. You giggle a little, because what else would it be, tomorrow? He does genuinely look lost though, so you nod. It’s rare that you know something that he doesn’t, but even if it might feel cool to outsmart the smartest person you know, you fill him in. “Yeah, it’s today! And it’s also my birthday.”. He’s quiet for a moment, teeth worrying his lips as his eyes flick away from your face. “And I’m seven.”.

“Not until 6:47pm.” he says, almost automatically. Once he realises what he’s said, his panicked eyes flick to the screen on his wrist, and you think he’s checking the time.

“You haven’t missed it! I made sure to keep looking at the hands on the clock so I could come and see you before you miss it.”. It’s the time that the scouting-turned-rescue mission seven years ago got back to the base, and an official mission report was made. ‘Baby boy, approximately 5 months old, found in rubble. No others found in immediate vicinity.’, submitted at 6:47pm. It’s never bothered you that it’s not the exact day or moment you were born, it’s the exact day and time your family became just that, and that's what really matters to you. None of your uncles know the exact time and day they were born either (the debate of who’s older still rages on till this day, not even the end of the world can put that argument to rest), so it means you’re just like them. You still can’t imagine wanting to be anything else. 

“Okay.”. He stands up, and offers you a hand. You take it, giggling as he pulls you up a little bit too far and your legs dangle. You kick them for a second, before he notices and puts you back firmly on solid ground. “I have two forks.”. 

You sit in the bean bags he has stashed in the corner of the lab, and the two of you share the last slice of birthday cake. He struggles more than the others to hide his distaste for it, but you think it tastes the best it has yet. The lab door has been left open, and you know that it’s not by mistake, because it could have been shut with a quick tap of a screen, but it stays wide open as the rest of your family files in. You’re all slotted together perfectly when the clock strikes 6:47pm, and you hear your Uncle Donnie sing the loudest as your family wishes you a happy birthday. You think it’s because you’re sitting closest to him, but everyone else can see the way his chest expands as he takes deep breaths, putting his all into his well wishes.

It was easy for him to forget that life isn’t over yet, even if what he’s been burdened with is creating and creating until he has something that will prolong it just that little bit longer. Amidst the cheers of ‘hip hip hooray’, he remembers that moments like this are exactly what he’s toiling away in the lab for. They haven’t gone anywhere yet though, and he doesn’t want to let even a single second of it pass him by again. Donnie actually smiles for once, because you are seven years old now and that really is something incredible. You see him everyday at breakfast after that, with actual food rather than just a mug, and he always has a fork for you. 

eleven years old

You’re just about in the double digits the first time you actually realise that you’ve saved the resistance. It happens so quickly - you’re still not old enough to be out on the field, but it’s all hands on deck when the krang brings the fight to your front door. Maybe don’t say this to anyone else, but you sort of think that it makes your age a moot point - if you can fight like hell when the hallways are caving in and there's pink, pink, pink everywhere, then surely you can join simple scouting missions? No one quite understands why you’re so eager to be out there on the field, and maybe you don’t fully understand either (you definitely don't understand just how dire it is out there, they’ve done a good job of keeping that from you so far), but you know that it’s what you want. It’s what all of your heroes do, after all. You know for a fact that your uncles wanted to be just like their own heroes when they grew up, and now that you’re finally getting taller and your arms are starting to gain a little muscle, why can’t you follow in their footsteps? The only difference is that their heroes were on the TV screen. You’re lucky enough to see yours in the flesh every single day. Two of them, at least. Purple now flutters alongside the fraying red. 

At first, it’s no different from all of the other hounds. It’s gross and dripping, what you think must be teeth gnashing and shockingly red. You’re not stupid, you know that it can’t be krang blood, you don’t think they even have it, but nothing can deter you from swinging your hockey stick right into its side (and you know you could do so much more than just crack it’s bones into tiny little pieces if someone finally listened to you and removed the child lock that Donnie was forced to add), sending it flying sideways. A little blood never bothered you, and it’s a good job, because you’re covered in it. Some of it might be your own, but there’s so much adrenaline pumping through your veins right now that pain doesn’t even stand a chance at stopping you. You feel so alive as you wipe some of that blood from your face (definitely not your own, you’d know if you had a head wound), but your heart stops as you see what was laid beneath the hound. 

It’s your aunt, or what might be left of her - you can’t tell if her chest is still rising and falling or not. She’s teetering on the edge of just being another body in the makeshift morgue, which you know is nearing full already. Your body wants to freeze, your tears want to fall, your voice wants to scream, but listen, here’s what you do instead: drop to your knees, bring your ear right up to her mouth to here those wheezing, determined breaths, then immediately pull the hoodie over your head to first clear enough blood to find the wound, and second put pressure on it as you scream out for help. You’ve got this. You’re doing so well, kid. Just remember to take a few breaths of your own in the middle of all of this chaos. 

Help doesn’t come, but another hound does. You don’t let it get close, as you put those little muscles to use and scoop her up. This one won’t get to her. It snarls at you, and you snarl back, flashing your matching bloody teeth. You turn and run before it can even think about pouncing, and even though she’s heavy, you’re still fast as you jump over rubble and dodge bodies you don’t have time to think about trying to save.

The medbay is still standing, proving that the decision to make it the most out of the way and difficult to reach location in the base was at least somewhat strategic. The krang hasn’t reached it, and based on the mutters of ‘code green’ and ‘it’s over’, they won’t this time. It’s still yet, yet, yet, as you know, but it’s not now so you shove your aunt onto a bed and don’t even wait for an adult to start grabbing bandages and needles. They do still take over eventually, because it doesn’t matter that you just saved Commander O’Neil’s life - you are still just a child. Just barely in the double digits. Hopefully one day you’ll realise this was never an insult, instead it was maybe the greatest display of love they could give you. No one escapes the apocalypse, but they still tried to give you routes out of it. The corridors are all collapsed now though, and you grip your hockey stick tight in your blood-slicked grasp as you watch your aunt be pulled back together into one piece. 

April’s probably the one person in the resistance whose resolve has never shaken, but that’s not to say it can’t still be strengthened. When she wakes to see your bloodstained hoodie discarded by the cot she’s found herself on, she’ll of course panic for a second. Thankfully, someone will quickly fill her in, tell her that the blood is her own, and the unbelievable story of the little child who dragged her from the jaws of the hounds. She’ll believe it though, because for starters, you're a Jones, and a Jones can do anything, of course. You’re also a Hamato, and if there’s one thing Hamato can’t do, it’s leave family behind. This spells the start of your official tenure as a resistance fighter, because your age is something you’ll outgrow, but your fighting spirit is something you will not.

It might also have something to do with the fact that much of the resistance lay dead all around you, their blood still clinging to your skin, but what do we always say? Look on the bright side. Stars are still shining, buddy. Time to join your heroes in taking them back.

fourteen years old

You don’t even have to do anything this time. You’re off somewhere with your aunt, maybe training, maybe laughing, ideally both. 

The way you save the resistance this time looks something like this: sparks of molten magic, and a pull he’s never felt before. He can’t deny it, it does feel like hope, but hurts like hell as it starts to crackle up his arms. He’s swiftly stopped, not by his own will, but he’s grateful when the fire splitting him apart fizzles out. It’s very quiet in the aftermath, because they know what this means. It means it’s possible. It means it's going to cost everything. 

They decide that it would be worth it though, if it gave you a chance. There’s no one else they believe in more than you. It’s been said for years, as far back as the days where the only time you shed blood was when you mishandled sai that now just sit and collect dust; you’re gonna be the one to end this someday.

That day should be far off in the future though, when they’ve had time to give you the mission brief, hand over the supplies, and give you a tight hug, not goodbye but good luck. There isn’t really a point dwelling on it now. Mikey just smiles as he tugs the bandages tighter around his arms, and relishes in the fact that they finally have a plan B that might just work out this time. It helps to reignite the optimistic fire he was reluctant to tell anyone was starting to burn out. 

+1. sixteen years old

You’re only sixteen years old when you save the resistance for the last time. You’re so young. I think it might really be the end this time, kiddo. 

You don’t even flinch when I bleed on you, you just tell me that you’ve got me, just as I had you all those time you scraped your knee or bruised your elbow. Not to be arrogant, but you said it yourself - you learned from the best. Sorry. I know it’s not about me, but there’s very little left these days to focus on. Let’s keep the attention on you though, because you’re about to finally save the resistance once and for all. 

All that needs to be said is ‘hope’, and Mikey knows it’s time for plan B. There’s no time for anything we’d planned, no explanation, no hugs goodbye or good luck, but the belief in you never wavers. Not for a second. You’re Casey Jones-Hamato Junior, remember? There’s nothing you can’t do, except leave your family behind. I won’t say that out loud, because you’ll argue that you are in fact leaving me and Mikey behind. Technically, I’d argue you’re leaving us ahead, because soon we’ll be the future. Again, I won’t say that, because if my last words are going to be a joke, I at least want it to be a good one. What you’re doing, in actual fact, is giving us a second chance. I don’t doubt for a second that you’ll find us back there. Our sky may now be lost, but they’ll take you to the highest rooftop and show you every single shimmering constellation and you’ll finally know an Earth that firmly belongs to us. Oh buddy, you’re going to love it.

The last I see of you, you’re crying. It’s one of the first things I saw you do, and now it’s the last. That first time all those sixteen years ago, I think you only started crying because you knew it was finally safe to call attention to yourself as Casey held you in surprisingly gentle but strong arms. Now, I can’t kid myself, I know it’s because you’re scared, and I’m sorry. But hey, you know how I like to look on the bright side - at least the last you see of me, I’m smiling. 

I hope that’s the last you see, at least, I know it won’t be long as a hound throws itself at me. There’s only one thing on my mind now, and it’s that you really are gonna do it. You’re gonna be the one to end this today. 

I’m real proud of-

[jenyifer]

I love Boston and he deserves Nick.

I get a lot of flack for having the chaos boys as my favorite duo of only friends. Sooo allow me to rant about my reasoning here. I get a lot of ‘ohhh you must like the sex scenes bet you like VegasPete’. No… actually… Sex is just a part of adult life. Im personally not interested in dick but I do like my characters to be realistic. Being promiscuous doesn’t make you an evil person. That isn’t my lifestyle but I can respect people who live that way. What I love about Boston is his confident persona that clashed with his smart cunning underbelly. I don’t think he’s malicious or narcissistic. Boston is a confident gay man who is loyal to his friends only. Now you might say wtf to that understandable but in Boston’s head he has done nothing wrong except let Nick get too close. Top is like him and in his logic Boston called dibs. He knew he’d be there for Mew when things went down but he didn’t expect everyone to find out about him and top. Boston probably thought he was accelerating to the end to protect his friend. I think this is also why he tells Sand Ray’s ass is fully owned by Mew. In Bostons mind he was helping Ray cut the bullshit. Boston is honest 90% of the time which makes him our most reliable character. AND YET WE HAVE YET TO REALLY GET HIS POV we know so much about him without being in his chaos mind. Do you know how impressive that is? We can also see Boston change from the start of the series being heavily effected by his fights with Top Mew Nick and Ray. He isn’t a 2d boy who falls in love and magically is fixed. While I think he knows what his feelings for Nick mean He intellectually has made the decision to reject him which makes me want their relationship to work out even more.

As far as Nick his oversteps are pretty normal for someone with too much tech knowledge on his hands. Yes it’s wrong. But terribly tempting when you have access to it and see how the world regards privacy as a fiction. I like how Nick tries his best to not fall for Boston it’s extremely endearing. Nicks heart wins out every time. I’ve been in have relationships with people that others say “hey that person is trash” but to me I like to look beyond the surface. Everyone has their own motivation. Everyone has their own struggle with social things so… it’s not fair to judge someone too quickly. Sometimes you click with someone forever changed with the touch of a hand. It’s not some fairytale. Nick wants to see Boston be happy and for him to actually see Nick is at his side. No matter what Boston does. Because regardless of other people their spark remains. Unfinished and true. Honest and Nasty. Chaos.

Together Boston and Nick make eachother better. Boston looks outside himself more often and Nick gains confidence. They do balance eachother out. I don’t feel like one is really the hunter and the other is the prey. They are both Savage it’s just Nick is quieter than Boston so gets out in the shadow. I’m excited to get to the point where they are both chasing eachother and hit into one another again.

[citrusses]

right, so, I just found your blog through one of your rec lists (the burn it all down one) and ended up reading nearly every fic on the list in one sitting because of how good they are. and so i trust your taste haha but i also have no idea if you've already answered an ask like this. anyways.

do you have any recs for (drarry) fics that are draco angst centric, like draco whump or draco h/c but happy ending. preferably from his pov?

bonus points if you have any the following elements but not necessary: 1) him being soft for harry/kind to harry etc 2) harry takes care of him 3)him just being sooooo besotted with harry like cannot stop thinking about that boy.

Hi love! I am honored to be trusted by you! I see that we both adore Draco but also like seeing him suffer? 😊 Please enjoy some of my favorite Draco + angst (Drangst?) - and I hope you like long fics! This got out of hand so there's more beneath the cut.

Draco POV + Angst

Turning Leaves by @kbrick (E, 112,654)

Draco and Harry have a one-night stand that ends in disaster after Harry tells Draco he's unable to move beyond their poisonous past. So when Draco finds an unusual Time-Turner in the Department of Mysteries, he seizes the opportunity to start fresh with Harry. Only instead of fixing things, he keeps making them worse.

Another Mask Behind You by @letteredlettered (E, 116,557)

Draco is a high-end prostitute who hides his identity. Harry unknowingly hires him. And then there is porn, questions about identity, domestic bliss, more porn, and truth as seen through a web of lies.

Dwelling on Dreams by @the-sinking-ship (E, 135,588)

Draco thought he could avoid Potter for the duration of his brief return to England. He’d stick to his schedule and be back home in Paris, where he belonged, in a few short months. No trouble at all. He had plenty to occupy him, what with the opening of the London branch of his successful apothecary, his innovative research, drinks with Pansy, a backlog of unread potions periodicals.

Nor All That Glisters by @sweet-s0rr0w (E, 110,625)

Lonely and frustrated on house arrest, with no prospects for the future, Draco begins brewing Felix Felicis in an attempt to improve his lot. Just in the short term, of course. He isn’t a total idiot.

The (Third) Worst Year by @the-francakes (E, 20,041)

Draco Malfoy has one year to fall in True Love with Harry Potter or be turned into a Dragon. And he knows that is never gunna happen. This is going to be the worst year of his life.

Draco Angst + Dual POV

I Do Not Love You by Writ_and_romance (M, 228,290)

In 2013, a carefully-designed Obliviation leaves Harry reconfiguring his life and identity without any memories of true love; an act that's essentially erased Draco Malfoy from his mind despite a wedding band and shared home.

Two to Lie and One to Listen by @fluxweeed (E, 84,562)

It’s weird when Hermione announces that she and Ron have broken up. It’s weirder when this is followed by the revelation that she’s already moved on—and the new object of her affections is Draco Malfoy. Things only get worse from there.

Close Behind by @oflights (M, 134,215)

To rescue Draco from the Underworld, Harry has to look forward. Unfortunately, Draco has to look back.

Angsty Draco POV + Soft for Harry/Harry Takes Cares of Draco

Way Down We Go by @xiaq (T, 109,767)

The war was over. Or at least that’s what the papers said. They’d been saying it, for months, as if people needed reminding. Maybe they did.

Once More With Feeling by InnerLilith (E, 28,647)

Draco is dosed with a consummation-compelling potion, with Harry Potter as his intended. It’s a cruel irony, because he’s wanted Potter for years. But not like this.

The Unknown Door by @amywaterwings (E, 60,970)

There is something wrong with the Bellcrest. The heart of the place beats rotten. Everyone says so. Where Draco is a magical property manager, Harry is a recluse, and they’re definitely not hiding from their problems in the run-down flats of the Bellcrest. Not at all. Not one bit.

The Ordeal of Being Known by @lou-isfake (M, 146,637)

When Auror Potter is anonymously cursed with silence by being forced to hide his own voice inside his mind, there's unfortunately only one person in the country with the qualifications to fix it: Certified and Licensed Healer Legilimens, Draco Malfoy, specialist in Mind Curses and Afflictions. It's obviously a terrible idea, a disaster waiting to happen, but Draco's never been able to back down from a challenge... especially from Potter.

Waiting By An Open Door by @femmequixotic & @noeeon (E, 29,506)

Draco starts following Potterwatch secretly during the War. He wishes Potter would come save him too. But that sort of thing only happens in fairy tales, and Malfoys don't get fairy tale endings, do they?

Unspecified Draco Angst

Grounds for Divorce by Tepre (E, 122,217)

Malfoy finds a coin. Harry finds a letter. A story about histories, a story about families. A story about a lemon tree somewhere in Upper Egypt.

Anything by Gallaplacidia, top-tier Drangst.

[poisonpercy]

i would be most intrigued to know the reason you hate nico di angelo

that sounds threatening oh god no im just gen curious

Lol you’re good and don’t sound threatening (to me)

As the self proclaimed “#1 nico fandom hater” that I am, I love this ask. Anyway, that being said, I don’t hate Nico di Angelo. My problem lies with fandom and how Nico is perceived. Before I get into it, here’s a collage of tumblr posts that represent my feelings on Nico:

And my favorite post that fully sums up my thoughts on Nico:

I’m going to be making some generalizations throughout this which I don’t love, but it gets my point across the best.

Canon Nico (specifically in pjo) = good! I like this little boy! Little cutie and a little shit. What’s not to like! (hoo!Nico = eh, he’s ok I guess. He didn’t need to have POV chapters and should have taken on a more minor role imo)

Fanon Nico ≠ not good! Please burn it with fire 😃

FYI: when I talk about canon Nico, I’m referring to the original characterization of him throughout pjo (maybe some hoo, but no toa).

So this problem happens across every fandom it seems like, and I have a dislike for every character that gets treated like this throughout all my fandoms. Not everyone is like that, but I am.

So what am I talking about? It’s the blatant fanonization of Nico to the detriment of his character and others. It’s taking popular fanon takes regarding Nico (behavior, personality, relationships, etc.) and insisting that they’re canon even when evidence shows the opposite.

A big problem for me stems from the solangelo ship. If you like it/ship it, that’s great! I personally hate it… like a lot. To me it came out of nowhere and the inclusion of it in canon has brought in fanon concepts into canon that overall damages the integrity the the wider scope of the riordanverse.

What do I mean? I can’t speak too much on canon since I only read up to The Burning Maze and refuse to read any further in toa or tsats, but generally what I’ve seen from others is that canonical events/their perceptions of them have been skewed in Nico’s favor to put down Percy and other demigods, even when Nico is more at fault. Not saying this is 100% in canon but it is in fanon. And this view is widely spread by people (not all) who like Nico, and it’s very hard to ignore if you don’t like it because it is everywhere.

Saying things like no one cared for Nico when he first came to chb is blatantly untrue and makes me think that if you have that opinion, you didn’t read botl. People didn’t hate him because he was the son of Hades because the vast majority did not know Nico was the son of Hades! He was mostly unclaimed from chub’s perspective. It’s just the people that went on the quest in ttc that knew because of Bianca.

Also like Percy straight up worried for that kid day and night. He felt responsible for Nico even though Percy himself was a child! Nico was the one that was pushing Percy and everyone else away. That was his own doing, though understandable. Don’t push Nico’s actions onto other characters to villainies them in Nico’s story.

Also, for some reason people still blame Percy for Bianca’s death and then come to the conclusion that Nico hates and (still) blames Percy for it. He doesn’t. If you don’t like Percy, that’s fine (but why are you reading the series then?) but don’t spew hate about a character on things that aren’t true. Nico isn’t going to be your bff if you do so.

There’s also the belief that Percy is like abusive to Nico because of that one scene in tlo. Please put on your thinking caps if you genuinely believe only Percy was in the wrong. Percy only lashed out at Nico because Nico betrayed his trust. Also, once again they’re both kids. They’re going to have immature reactions, but you also have to remember the stress of the situation that compounds everything that these characters do.

Ok, back to solangelo. There’s this weird codependent relationship that fans tend to force on Nico and Will. Other ships do it too but solangelo stands out to me. And maybe it’s because I just don’t like solangelo, or have a favorable opinion on Will Solace, or stopped reading toa, but I genuinely don’t think there’s much grounds to Will’s character besides being Nico’s boyfriend. I know he gets some more depth throughout toa (and possible tsats) but that only happened because he was Nico’s boyfriend. Like he was Nico’s boyfriend before he was Will Solace.

And because of this, fans generally tend to make Will this mouthpiece in fandom regarding Nico. He feels like a self-insert and not in a good way. And because of this, there’s a lot of negativity towards other characters in fandom that fans use Will’s “voice” to push in name of defending Nico or whatever. Like babes, you’re projecting. I don’t know Will, but the Will from the limited time we knew him in pjo wouldn’t speak that way/share those views.

Also the weird patient/doctor relationship solangelo has going on gives me the ick. Espresso with how it’s portrayed in fandom. Like there’s this weird power dynamic that just leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

I’m rambling at this point, sorry. I’m only on 2 hours of sleep right now so forgive me lmao.

I won’t go too much more in depth but Nico also gets infantilized a ton by Nico/solangelo fans which isn’t cool. He’s a kid, but he’s not a fucking baby.

Also making Nico this 1-dimensional emo, sad boi type character is not cool. He’s so much more to him. When you reduce characters to a singular trait, it leads to all the issues I described. Ok I’m just going to leave it at that.

TLDR: I don’t hate Nico di Angelo, I just have a lot of problems with his fans.

[kizzywh]

Ever After (Spencer Reid x Reader)

This switches between two points of view.

Content Warnings: suicide attempt, mentions of self-harm, mentions of kidnapping and torture, some angst, happy ending. DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS POST IF IT WILL TRIGGER YOU. FANFICTION ISN’T WORTH YOUR MENTAL HEALTH. 

Your Pov

I’d never expected to make it this far. Working in the BAU had been a dream come true. That is, until it wasn’t. I loved the team, even Hotch, who sometimes made himself impossible to love. But the person I loved the most was Spencer Reid. His dorky outfits, and the way he brushed his brown hair from his golden sun drops of eyes. Brown didn’t begin to do Reid justice. He was like an autumn day, like leaves in a puddle, after a rainstorm. The way his lips quirked into a soft smile, usually directed at something stupid I had said. Those lips that I could’ve kissed a thousand times. But I never did. He was the first person I wrote my note to. I left it on his desk, in a small brown envelope, tinged with sadness, but sealed with finality. There was only so much one person could take.

The last case had almost killed me. working on a case where I looked so similar to the unsub’s usual type, y/h/c hair, y/e/c eyes, it was a recipe for disaster. But I thought I could help. Get on the inside, destroy the unsub from the inside, out. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

~ 2 weeks earlier ~

“Guys, it’s the only way. None of you look like his type, and it’s the only way we can stop him from hurting more people.” I said, leaning back from the table in the round room. It was a local case, meaning we were all in our usual office. A pleasant change from taking the jet, I’d admit. I could see Spencer almost visibly balk at my suggestion, and he was quick to try to shut me down. “Absolutely not, y/n. it isn’t safe.” He stated, almost pleading with the room to agree with him; but of course, everyone knew just as well as he did that it was the only way.

“I don’t like it, but I cannot see another way to handle this case.” Hotch had finally sighed, a frown briefly passing over his darkened features; before he’d agreed, and you had soon found yourself in a local bar, taking in the view, with a small microphone on your stomach, with a gps in it, so you could immediately get back up. The team had stayed back in the round room. Somehow Garcia had managed to find glasses with a microscopic camera in them, so they could see exactly what I was seeing. I knew who I was looking for. Mysterious, charming man, with the social skills to charm whatever lady he wanted, and I could say that I was looking good, thanks to the makeover provided by Emily, JJ and Pen. Morgan had wolf whistled the second I walked out, in a tight-fitting red dress, and my hair curled. Even Hotch and Rossi looked impressed. Reid however, refused to meet my eye, almost choking on his words as he wished me good luck. Typical Reid.

Soon, a tall man approached, with a drink in hand, and sat by my side at the bar. “You are quite possibly the most beautiful woman in here, what is your name?” he asked, pulling out the full charm. I made sure to gaze into his eyes, so the team could see his face, before replying, “Bea.” The team had agreed I go with a fake name. It wasn’t worth the extra confusion. We chatted for a while, and I had to admit he was charming, easy to see how he had seduced so many women. He offered a drink, and I took it, knowing I’d watched the bartender pour it myself. It was safe. Or so I had thought.

He took the time to introduce himself. “Daniel, my lady.” It would’ve brought a blush to my face, except I knew what he was, and it almost repulsed me, but I had to play into the act. Laying a hand on his arm and laughing at what he said seemed to do the trick, because soon he was asking if I’d like to get out of this flashy bar. I nodded, making sure to keep an eye on him, as I followed him to the car. I was nervous, but I knew the team were right with me. They could extract me as soon as I had arrived at the unsub, or Daniel’s, holding location.

I begin to feel very sleepy as I get into the car, almost tripping on the step, but soon I am seated, and I felt so out of myself, that I didn’t notice the car lock turning, leaving me alone, in his car, with a monster himself. Trying to force my eyes open, I try to make conversation with him, acting flirty, but mostly, I almost forget why I am here. I am so tired.

When I awake, I’m tied to the ceiling, hanging by my wrists, and I almost cry out in pain. My glasses are gone, and a blurry figure falls into my vision. “You thought you were clever, eh y/n? you thought I wouldn’t guess your little game? Well, now your friends back at the bureau get to see what I can do to you, and there’s no way they can find me now.” That was the last of it I heard, before blows from a blunt object start hitting my body, and I fall unconscious again.

~ Back at the Office ~

“Guys, we have a problem. y/n’s tracker is going off in a parking lot, but her camera isn’t working, and I have no sound, I don’t think its connectivity issues, but oh my god, I think something is wrong.” Penelope almost shouted as she ran into the bullring. The team looked up, and Hotch was first to stand. “What do you mean it isn’t working, where is she Garcia?” hotch frowned, before going to the board. “The last coordinates, what are they for?” Penelope was close to tears, “it’s just a carpark, I’ve sent the coordinates to your phones, please find her. Please.” She sobbed out, before running back to her office to keep checking for any signs of life.

Emily was furious. She almost lost her mind when she found out y/n had disappeared. “We should’ve sent someone with her. Where the Hell is she and what is he doing to her?” she fumed, as JJ just slumped down in her chair, and even Derek couldn’t form a sentence or something clever to say. Spencer however, nearly broke. Y/n was one of his favourite people. She always got him his morning coffee and lent him books he’d finish within about ten minutes of being given them. They were like twin flames, and he adored her. Of course, he couldn’t tell her that. He got up and walked away, over to the kitchen, biting his lip so hard almost drew blood. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t feel, he was just numb. She had to be okay. She had to be.

The team could see spencer spiralling, and Morgan and Rossi were soon on the way to y/n’s last coordinates, while the rest of the team gathered in the round room. “So, what do we know about this guy anyway?” JJ asked, pointing to the board, expecting Spencer to reply instantly, but he just whispered after a brief pause, “rape, torture, murder.” Those three words were killing him. Who knew what they were doing to her?

“Guys. GUYS. We have a feed, it’s coming from a proxy server so I can’t triangulate it right now, but its y/n. I’m sharing it to the board now.” Garcia piped down the phone, staying in her office to try and keep herself calm. And sure enough, there was y/n on the screen, hung from the ceiling, while the unsub looked into the camera. “You thought you were so clever, sending Agent y/n in to see me? well. Boy, do I have a show for you.” He smirked, before walking over to y/n and tilting her chin. “My, she is truly remarkable, I am going to enjoy this.” He laughed, taunting the camera. A call came in from Morgan and Rossi. “Are you seeing this video of y/n?” Morgan yelled down the phone. “It’s being sent to all our phones.” And sure enough, it was. All you could hear was Y/n refusing to cry, as the unsub cut into her with various knives, and soon it was too much for her to handle. Her screams filled the round room. Penelope was sobbing, and so was JJ. Emily was so angry; she almost threw her paper on the floor. Hotch just looked pale, and Spencer, he almost threw up.

“Garcia, triangulate it NOW.” Hotch ordered, and Penelope obliged, sobbing through her tears, before shouting out some coordinates. “Go get her guys. Please.” Before hanging up and sitting in her office, her heart breaking.

Reid was the first in the car. He was furious, but he was terrified. The camera feed had cut off almost at the same time Garcia had read out the coordinates. Who knew what they’d find. “Right, when we arrive, the priority is taking down Daniel. He could hurt the rest of us otherwise.” Hotch ordered as they pulled up.

Your POV

I didn’t know how long I had been in this room, all I could smell was blood, and sweat, and I was in agony. I couldn’t stop the tears from falling, it was pain, it was torture, and he just wasn’t stopping. “Now, they think they know where we are y/n, so let’s give them something to see when they get here huh?” Daniel grinned, before continuing to cut and beat me. I didn’t think I could take much more. I heard vaguely the slamming of car doors, and I heard. “Daniel Carter. Put the knife down, and step away.” it was hotch. They had found me.

Then I felt the coldness of a blade against my neck. “If you shoot me, your precious agent dies too.” Daniel laughed coldly, pressing it almost deep enough to draw blood. I tried not to move; I was too exhausted to. The last thing I heard was a gunshot and felt the sharp graze of the knife on my neck, and Daniel drop to the floor next to me before I slipped back into a world of darkness.

Spencer’s Pov

Almost barging through the house, to the basement where y/n was, I could feel the tension in my head. She had to be safe. She is all I have. Pointing a gun at Daniel, I can see her hanging there, and it takes all my strength not to push that son of a bitch out of the way and get her down. I don’t know how much blood she’s lost, but judging by the floor, it seemed to be a lot. Finally, Emily manages to sneak behind, and shoot Daniel, and I push past them all, reaching for y/n, and fumbling with the restraints, before Hotch helps me gently remove her, and I carry her, bridal style, cradling her, shouting for medics. She opens those beautiful eyes and smiles at me, and I beg her to stay with me. she’s so cold.

~ Present Day~

Your Pov

I had made a full physical recovery, but mentally, it had destroyed me. I had nothing left to give. That’s why I had written the final note to Spencer. He had to know how I felt, before I was erased from this life, like the blood from a crime scene. Sitting on that lonely bridge, in the moonlight, I felt a sense of peace. This was really happening, I couldn’t fix my brain, but right now, I felt peaceful, calm. As if the last moments of my life were destined to be some calm ending to a tumultuous tale. I can hear owls in the distance, calling for their families, and I briefly recall the lack of my own family. Maybe it was just the way I was, maybe I was just unlovable, unfixable.

Spencer’s Pov

I was surprised to see a note on my desk, but I immediately unsealed it. Then froze. Y/N. she was going to hurt herself, commit suicide. There wasn’t time to call the team. I knew where she’d be. She thought I didn’t love her, and that she was going to be alone, she couldn’t heal herself from the wounds that that monster had inflicted on her. I ran for my car, driving well over the speed limit to the bridge, pulling up a few yards away, so as not to startle her into something impulsive, before beginning to walk toward her, my eyes adjusting to the darkness. There was something almost angelic in how she looked in the moonlight. “y/n. y/n, listen to me.”

Your Pov

There was a crunching on gravel, and as I look up, its Spencer. I cursed myself for choosing a bridge about which we had talked. He liked the architecture, the simple, almost British cobblestone bridge. I liked that it looked like something out of a fairy tale and thought it fitting that this would be the never after of mine. The moon bounces off his messy brown curls, and it almost makes me sigh. He never fails to look handsome, not even in the pale, watery light of the moon. “y/n. y/n, listen to me.” I heard him say, before he gently holds his hands up, walking closer. “You don’t have to do this.” He states, trying not to scare me, I note. “I do spence. I can’t do this alone.” I sob, shuffling closer to the edge. He panics, before breathing in, and walking to within touching distance. “I care about you, y/n, please, just listen to me.” but I can’t. I have to go now. I push forward, ready to fall into nothingness. But something, someone, is pulling me back. Spencer. He grips me tightly, falling to the path side and lays on the ground, clutching me close, I try to resist, but I can’t. I lie there with him, listening to both of our heavy breathing, and noticing those dragon puffs of air that only happen, when the air is crisp. He pulls us up to a sitting position and holds me by the waist.

“y/n. no. You’re not doing anything alone. I am here. I got your note, and I KNEW what you were going to do. Do you think I don’t love you? You couldn’t be more wrong.” He whispers against my hair, his lips pressed to my head gently. He reaches a slender hand to point at the moon. “You see that?” I nod, following his gaze, as he keeps an arm around me, holding me to him. “That is what we share. You are my moonlight. We are like the sun and the moon, constantly orbiting each other, sharing the same sky, somewhere. I love you; y/n. believe me. from the moment you walked into the office on your first day, almost tripping over my satchel and spilling your latte in my lap, I loved you.” He whispers more, stroking slow circles on my shoulder. I laugh at the memory. It hadn’t been one of my proudest moments. Even hotch had cracked a smile at it.

The breeze picked up, and spencer shivered, pulling me closer, and instinctively, I rest my head on his shoulder. “Spencer. I love you.” I mumbled, and he turned me to face him, smiling down at me with those golden eyes, almost hinted with silver in the moonlight. He’d never looked more angelic, and I told him that, his lips quirking into a smile, my favourite dimples on his cheeks. “I love you too y/n.” before softly, his lips brushed against mine, I kissed him back, shyly. This was what kissing spencer Reid was like? It was… magical. He gently increased the pressure of the kiss, cupping my chin with one of his hands, and I almost melted. I was hurting. And part of me didn’t think it would go away anytime soon, but I knew, and spencer knew, that he was never going to be far from me again.

The bridge had turned out to have a happily ever after, after all.

[pinkberrypocky]

pmmm rewatch live notes: ep 7

this episode is so good for the kyoko sayaka of it all. god the fucking tree of knowledge fruit of knowledge symbolism in this ep is SO

Kyubey is such a victim blamer

When Sayaka gets upset and ask why he didn’t tell them about the soul gems he says because they never asked which shifts the blame the them

The way he makes sayaka feel the pain of being stabbed to prove his point about teh use of soul gems is SO FUCKED

Hes trying to make them thankful to him for fucking with their souls by torturing them and saying look how bad it would have been

Mother gothel core tbh

The opening is madoka core madoka pov and the ending is homura core homura pov

I said this already but the part of the opening where madokami embraces madoka  makes me literally feral

Madoka is so upset and horrified by the realities of the situation that she is unable to accept them as reality and make decisions that have any real impact (again literally me fr)

Until the end of course

Homura looks so hurt when madoka asks her why she is always so cold

Her hair shadows her eyes and she looks at her marked fingernail with disdain

When kyoko leads sayaka to the church she is a black silhouette against a yellow/orange sky

Kyoko kicks down the door to the church and crushes a beam beneath her feet

Kyoko offers sayaka an apple before trying to convince her that being selfless is not the way to go

Sayaka rejects it 

Representative of rejecting the fruit of knowledge and stubbornly keeping naivety

Kyoko’s dad is lowkey just a cult leader who was really bad at it

The way kyoko holds the puppet of her dad up in the lore drop is representative of how she held him up in his religious efforts by making her wish

Kyoko also used to think of being a magical girl as a way to save the world but now she knows better

Sayaka is blank staring at kyoko during the whole story

She cannot truly listen to kyoko bc if she did she would see that kyoko is right and where would that leave her?

Kyoko says “If you wish for hope an equal amount of despair will come” AAAAAAAA

Homura wishes to be with madoka who is the personification of hope and in fighting for that she gets life after life of despair

Kyoko says that she only thinks about herself but that’s really not true at all otherwise she wouldn't be trying to enlighten sayaka

In a way kyoko is the same as her dad, preaching to others about how they can be saved only to never be listened to 

Sayaka condemns kyoko for stealing the food and has a weird moral high ground about not eating them because of it

As if she thinks she’s better for not having to steal

She so blinded by her view of the world at this point that she can’t recognize the class difference and privilege that she acknowledged in earlier eps

Actually speaking of the duality of kyoko’s wish reflecting her character that kind of applies to all of them

Madoka wishes to create hope/eliminate despair/loneliness and in the process makes it so that she is forever alone and takes on everything for everyone else

Sayaka wishes to heal kyosuke and ends up not letting herself be with him since she no longer sees herself as human

Mami wishes to stay alive and ends up dying in ep 3

Homura wishes for madoka and ends up in a world without her

When hitomi and sayaka talk about kyosuke and hitomi admits her feelings they are the only ones in the restaurant 

All the other seats are drawn in but empty

When madoka asks to come witch hunting with sayaka sayaka says “you’re too kind”

Mirrors what homura says often

Sayaka admits that she is failing at being a warrior of justice when she wished for a moment that she hadn’t saved hitomi so that she could be with kyosuke 

The reason she has such a big breakdown is bc this isn’t just about kyosuke its about her morals that she is living for being proved wrong in an undeniable way 

So what is she even fighting for?

When sayaka is fighting a witch that night she no longer cares about getting hurt since she knows she will be fine as long as her soul gem stays in tact

We only see her silhouette in black against a white background

Reflects her black and white thinking

The witch forms branch like shapes to attack her

Being attacked/hurt by the tree of knowledge

Blood on her face forms tears as she laughs and smiles widely

She says it works to detach herself and she doesn’t feel anything anymore bc her whole world has ended bc her ideals were her everything and now she can’t even have those

[bedlamsbard]

745 words written today which means I finally wrote enough words to pull a snippet from, mostly because I just went on to 16 -- I still have one scene left in 15, but it's one where I need to do voice checks and also one where like...the POV character is crying and I've kind of got enough of that in my own life right now. (Did not cry today, but that's probably mostly because I didn't have any meetings with the people I'm comfortable crying in front of. My advisor, whom today's meeting was with, is not one of those people.)

Snippet from Of Home Near chapter 16.

After a moment, Yelena said, “He’s a little boring, isn’t he?  I mean – Captain America.”  She said it the way Alexei usually did, and Natasha smiled despite herself. Then she remembered that Alexei was dead, snapped away moments after she and Steve had been dumped in Howard Stark’s lab in 1945, and had to fight back a wave of grief.  Yelena looked away while she got herself back under control and only looked back when Natasha said, “Steve’s not boring.” “I mean, he’s handsome, if you like that sort of thing.  Like those old photos of Alexei when –” She stopped abruptly, staring suspiciously at Natasha. “What?” “I’m just wondering if that thing everyone says is true,” Yelena said. “What thing?” Yelena made an expansive gesture. “You know, that thing about women liking men who remind them of their fathers.” “What?” “I mean, come on, there aren’t that many super soldiers out there and they’re both –” Natasha threw a pillow at her before she could go on.  Yelena batted it aside and grinned at her.  “Come on.  Tell me I’m not wrong.” “You’re wrong,” Natasha said. “Also, I think you need to stop reading gossip magazines.” “Ha!”  Yelena said triumphantly.  She picked up the pillow and hugged it to her chest, then took a second look at Natasha, at Steve’s things, and then at the bed.  Carefully, she put the pillow down and pushed it away from her.  “Did you have sex in this bed?” “Yes,” Natasha told her briskly. “A lot of it.  Why do you think I’m not wearing any clothes?”

[whumpcereal]

the kennel recovery arc

part three of the kids not being alright (follows will and annie's povs), just prior to annie and will's first real date (which will be cute and come next, because yikes, this piece is dark). part of the kennel (masterlist here). tommy is...not doing well.

content warnings for: references to past noncon, trauma, captivity, and dehumanization, mobility issues, guilt, problematic self-talk, alcohol, adult language

first date, a prelude (tommy's pov)

Tommy’s not even sure where he is. He parked the truck once Annie went inside and walked to the subway. He got off the 7 at Bryant Park and then drifted downtown on the B or the D train or something. The line was orange. He knows that. He’d taken it a few times before, when was auditioning for the company. 

He gets off at West 4th and climbs the dirty stairs back up to the sidewalk. He doesn’t even really remember where the company’s studio is, just that this was going to be his stop. He was going to ride that line every day. He was going to know this neighborhood. 

He doesn’t know a thing.  

It’s fucking cold, and, even if Tommy has no clue what he wants to do, standing on a random corner in the dark doesn’t seem like the world’s best option. He shoves his hands in his jeans pockets, picks a direction, and starts walking. His right leg drags a little behind, the ankle turned at not-quite the correct angle, but he can still get around. 

The streets are narrower down here, older, and they’re lined with bars and restaurants, stuffed with people who are celebrating the end of the work week or the start of a weekend bender. 

Tommy envies them. The men in their three-piece suits, the women wearing precisely curated boots, the college kids who are dining out on their parents’ dime. Every one of the people he passes has a life. Tommy was supposed to have one too. 

Instead, he sits in his parents’ living room and watches television all day. It was ballet documentaries at first, but they made his mother cry, and fucking Tiler Peck was so cheerful that it made Tommy want to scream. Lately, it’s been true crime. The First 48 and Unsolved Mysteries and whatever sordid cold case he can find. Mom won’t watch those with him. It’s too hard for her to think of what might have been. 

When he leaves the house, it’s usually for therapy. For his brain and his body. Neither seems to be working wonders so far. He can’t rise to take a balance, he can’t hold a port de bras, and he can’t make sense of anything that’s happened, even if he pretends otherwise. He craves the privacy of his dark room, but he can’t sleep. No one’s noticed. Tommy’s a great show dog, after all. He knows his role. Tommy’s the lucky one; it’s Will everyone should be worried about, and they are. 

It’s just that, maybe, Tommy envies the way Will gets to fall apart. 

He steps off a curb the wrong way, and his ankle almost comes out from under him. 

“Shit,” Tommy mutters, righting himself before he gets steamrolled by a cab. He steps out of the foot traffic and looks around. It’s still busy, but the storefronts aren’t as cozy and cutesy. He’s standing in front of black door with frosted glass windows. There’s a decal on the glass, styled like typewritten text: 

the white swallow. 

Well. Tommy’s pretty sure he knows what kind of place that is. He ignores the taste that rises unbidden in his mouth. 

Tommy didn’t frequent the bars when he was in school. He was too disciplined. Drinking, he decided, would make him slow and soft. He had to stay focused, couldn’t afford to compromise his fitness. He had to be the best. 

He was, for a while. The best. He isn’t anymore. 

Fuck it, he thinks. He opens the door and pushes into the narrow vestibule. 

It’s still early, so there’s no cover. A guy in tight black pants checks Tommy’s ID, but he’s barely looking. A quick glance, and then he thumbs Tommy down the hall. Tommy appreciates it; he doesn’t like it when people look too closely. 

The bar is mostly empty at this hour. It’s dark: black walls, a smudged chrome bar with black leather rails on its edge, a bartender wearing a black leather cut who basically blends into his surroundings. The whole place smells faintly of musk and mildew and sweat. Like men. Tommy’s shoes stick to the floor as he moves to get a drink. 

“What’ll you have?” the bartender asks. He’s staring at Tommy, looking him up and down, and Tommy feels his cheeks burn. Tommy knows the guy likes what he sees, and Tommy wishes that he didn’t. He just wants to disappear.

Maybe this wasn’t a great idea. 

Still, Tommy clears his throat, keeping his eyes on the streaky bar.  “Uh, vodka?” 

“Straight?”

He winces. Of course, he doesn’t even know how to order a fucking drink. “No. With soda.”

“Lime?” 

He nods. 

The bartender’s hands are deft, and he turns and glides the length of the bar without effort. Tommy envies the ease in the guy’s every movement; he doesn’t even realize he’s staring until the bartender shoves the drink in his hand.

“You wanna open a tab, baby?” 

Tommy nods, because that’s what people do at bars, right? They open tabs, they sit and drink, they pass the time. They exist. 

He digs in his pocket and hands over his debit card. It’s connected to an account that his parents dump money into once a month. He still gets a fucking allowance. 

But it’s not like the bartender knows that. Tommy watches the guy file his card away, and he drains his drink in one go. It burns a little going down, but it’s not the worst thing he’s ever forced down his throat. Not by a long shot. 

“Damn.” 

There’s a soft chuckle beside him, and Tommy jumps. He should’ve been paying attention. He should’ve moved down the bar and found his own spot. He shouldn’t have made himself so vulnerable. He shouldn’t have come in at all. But it’s too late now. 

He feels the man’s heat beside him before he finds the courage to look up. Already, Tommy’s body is on high alert, and he can hear Doc’s voice in his head.

Come on now, Champ. Good boys are always ready. 

He can feel himself stirring, and he only hopes the guy doesn’t notice that or the tears of humiliation pricking at the back of Tommy’s eyes. Tommy might have thought the guy was cute, once upon a time. He’s tall and lean, dark brown hair and big brown eyes. He’s wearing a white dress shirt and navy blue chinos, his dark blue tie loosened just below his collar. He keeps one hand on the rail, opening his body toward Tommy, and he smiles. 

Tommy can’t see the door. There’s no way out. There’s never a way out. He grips the leather rail and forces his eyes back to the bar. 

“That was impressive,” the man says, nodding at Tommy’s empty drink. “Never seen you before.” 

Tommy suddenly feels like he’s breathing through a straw. “It’s a big city.” 

“It is,” the man agrees, “but this isn’t the kind of spot where we get a lot of tourists.” 

“I’m not a tourist,” Tommy says. It’s true. It’s not like this is some pleasure cruise. He’s not on top of a double-decker bus taking in the tacky glare of Times Square. He can’t tour the life he should be living; he can only wander through like a ghost. 

“New in town, then?” The guy leans in closer, letting his hip graze Tommy’s. 

“I’m a dancer,” Tommy says without thinking. He doesn’t know why he says it.

The guy slips his hand into Tommy’s back pocket and squeezes. “Are you?” 

No, I’m not. But Tommy is frozen. He can’t take it back now; he can’t even move. The hand on his ass is warm through the thin fabric of his pocket lining, and he can feel himself swelling against his fly. 

“Yeah,” he breathes. 

The guy slips even closer to Tommy, his pelvis against Tommy’s hip. He reaches up and gently tilts Tommy’s chin to face him. “I bet you are. Look at you.” 

Look at you, Champ. 

Tommy doesn’t even realize he’s closed his eyes until he feels the man’s mouth on his. The kiss is softer than he might have expected, and Tommy finds himself leaning into it. He lets the guy’s tongue sweep into his open mouth, and he groans. Teeth sink into Tommy’s bottom lip and skate gently backward. The man pulls away, and Tommy opens his eyes. 

“What’s your name, baby?” the man asks, voice husky.

“Tommy.” Not Champ. Tommy. I’m Tommy. 

“Tommy the dancer,” he says. “I’m Alex.” 

“Alex the–” 

“Administrative assistant,” Alex finishes for him. For just a second, his confidence cracks. “Not as impressive, but it’s a damn fine alliteration.” 

A hesitant smile cracks Tommy’s face. He swallows a laugh. “Hi, Alex.” 

“Hi, Tommy,” Alex says, dipping his head for another kiss. 

His mouth is hot and cold all at once, warm breath and smoky whiskey and ice. His hands are in motion, turning Tommy toward him by the hips, slipping over Tommy’s chest, anchored on Tommy’s shoulders. When they come up for air, his forehead nods softly against Tommy’s. 

“What are you drinking, Tommy the dancer?”

Tommy doesn’t answer right away; Alex presses forward for another kiss, and he can’t fucking think straight. 

“Vodka. Vodka soda,” Tommy manages. 

Alex turns his head and gestures to the bartender with one hand, letting the other rest at Tommy’s waist. “You’ve got a body to maintain. I understand. I respect it.” 

Tommy only nods. He does have a body, and it’s his, his and no one else’s, and he wants Alex to touch it. He wants Alex to touch every inch of him until Doc’s fingerprints are covered over. He wants to run away. He wants another kiss. He wants to scream until his throat is raw. 

He wants to leave this bar and go back to an apartment that has his name on the lease and wake up in the morning and go to the studio and feel his body move the way it’s supposed to. He wants Alex to be the guy he texts before he goes to sleep and when he wakes up in the morning. He wants to kiss and fuck and laugh and cry and for all of this to be normal.  

He doesn’t want to hide. He wants Tommy the dancer to be real. 

“Vodka soda and a Jack and coke,” Alex says over his shoulder, shoving his pelvis against Tommy’s. Tommy’s ass bumps up against a barstool, and Alex smiles. “And where does Tommy the dancer dance?” 

He drops his head and scrapes his teeth down Tommy’s throat. Tommy’s head tips backward, and Alex’s fingers tangle in his curls. Tommy feels himself throbbing beneath his zipper; Alex grinds hard against him. Tommy can’t stop the moan that exits his open mouth. 

Alex laughs and leans backward. “Sorry. That wasn’t fair.” 

The drinks arrive. Both glasses are already sweating. Tommy grabs his and throws at least half of it down his throat. 

Alex’s forehead creases. “Hey. You good?” 

Tommy nods, coughing against the acid burn of the alcohol in his throat. “Yeah, I’m good.” 

He’s not, but who knows if he’ll ever be good again? 

The drink shocks him back into semi-awareness. The bar is a shithole. Alex smells like sour sweat. Tommy should slow down. He has to be able to drive Annie home. 

But Alex is touching him and no one is watching. No one but Alex is watching Tommy at all. 

“Did you have a bad day or something?” Alex asks. His grip softens, and his hand slides gently back to Tommy’s hip. 

“Or something,” Tommy mutters. He forces himself to put his drink down. He hopes Alex doesn’t notice the way his hands are shaking. 

“Maybe we can make your day better,” Alex says softly. He dips his chin and his brown eyes–fuck, they look like Will’s–are big and needy. Alex doesn’t move closer this time, and Tommy understands: it’s his turn. No one wants to take advantage of the drunk bitch. 

“Maybe,” Tommy says, and he wraps his arms around Alex’s neck. He feels heavy and clumsy, but Alex’s smile spreads like butter, and Tommy doesn’t let go. 

Alex snakes his arm around Tommy’s body and reaches for his own drink; he takes a sip without breaking eye contact, the glass so close to Tommy’s face that Tommy can almost feel the cold wet on his skin. Like winter air. Like nighttime. Like everything he missed while he was locked away. He can smell the sugar on Alex’s breath. The drink makes its way back to the counter, and Tommy’s mouth makes its way back to Alex’s. 

Tommy’s kisses are indelicate and pleading. He reaches for the loosened tie around Alex’s neck and pulls him close, knocking his elbow into his vodka soda. 

The drink spills, and the bartender curses, and Alex pulls away, laughing. 

“I’d ask if you want to finish your drink,” Alex says, “but it appears to be all over the bar.” 

Tommy laughs. Or at least, he hears himself laugh. He can see himself against the bar, like he’s watching it from above. The sweat at his hairline, the nervous fidget of his hands. The beautiful man beside him who doesn’t know that he should run the other direction. 

Alex cocks his head. “Well, Tommy the dancer, what would you think about getting out of here?” 

Tommy nods. He leans against the barstool while Alex pays their tabs, taking his card when it’s handed to him, and he tries to make sense of what he’s about to do. He’s going to leave this place with a stranger, and he is going to ask that stranger to fuck him. Alex will do it, and they will be the only two people who know it. No one will be watching. There won’t be paid requests or camera angles to consider. Tommy is going to obliterate every memory of what Doc did to him in that glass box. 

Or maybe, Tommy will fuck Alex. Not like Doc made him fuck Will. No, he and Alex, they’ll do it face to face. He’ll be able to hear Alex, to see on his face that he wants it. Alex’s brown eyes will be Will’s, and he will forgive Tommy. 

Maybe they can do both. They’ll hold each other after. Maybe Tommy can bury himself in Alex’s bed and never come up for air again. That’s what he’s been trained to do, isn’t it? And he’s a good boy. He is. A champ. 

“Tommy?” 

Tommy jerks when he feels Alex’s hand on his arm. 

“Hey, whoa. You sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah,” Tommy says weakly. “Just spaced out there for a minute. Let’s–let’s go.” 

“My place isn’t far,” Alex says, pressing a quick kiss to Tommy’s cheek and lacing their hands together. “Noho. Maybe ten minutes walk.”  

If Tommy’s life had gone according to plan, he’d know what the fuck Noho is. He might have an apartment there too. He might do things like go to greenmarkets on the weekend and make impossibly charming meals from scratch in his railway kitchen. He’d have a park he lies out in when it gets warm, a bodega where the guy behind the counter knows him. Alex might be his boyfriend, and he wouldn’t have to tell Tommy how long it takes to get to his place because Tommy would already know. 

But it doesn’t matter where they’re going. He lets Alex lead him from the bar like the puppy he’s trying hard not to be. He needs someone to show him the way. 

They only just make it out the door when Alex stops. He squeezes Tommy’s hand and looks over at him with concern. “Tommy the dancer, you are limping.”

Tommy had forgotten. Half a drink and a few kisses, and he’d let himself forget. He should say it’s a recent injury. Dancers get hurt all the time. But when dancers get hurt, there are orthopedists and physical therapists and fucking doctors. Their ankles don’t get broken and haphazardly set and then broken again. They aren’t made to hold their entire body weight for hours on a tenterhook of crumbling bone. 

Tommy isn’t a dancer. He’ll never be a dancer, not ever again. It was stupid to pretend. 

Tommy pulls his hand away and ducks his head; he doesn’t want Alex to look at him. Not anymore. 

“Tommy? Hey, man, are you–” 

Tommy bats Alex’s hand away before it can touch him. “I have to go.” 

“What the fuck? What did I–” 

“Nothing,” Tommy says to the sidewalk, and his voice splinters as a lump of tears hits his throat. “You didn’t do anything. It’s me–I–I can’t–I just have to go.” 

“Are you okay?” Alex asks. “I mean, you don’t seem drunk, but–” 

“It isn’t that,” Tommy interrupts. “Please. Let me go.” 

But Alex isn’t touching him, and nothing’s really happened. Still, Tommy wants to fall on his knees and beg. It’s all he knows how to do. 

“Tommy?” 

Tommy shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “I can’t do this. I can’t– 

Alex’s hand brushes against Tommy’s shoulder, and Tommy screams. Alex jumps back. 

Tommy shouldn’t have screamed. He isn't allowed to scream. He isn’t allowed to fight. He knows that better than he knows anything. If Alex wants to take him home, Tommy should let him. 

Just now, it doesn’t really look like Alex wants to go anywhere with him at all. 

“Fuck! Shit, man. Look, I don’t–is there someone I can call?” 

A half-strangled laugh bounces out of Tommy’s mouth, and Alex flinches like it’s hit him in the chest. Who the fuck would he call? His mother? And it’s not like he can interrupt Will and Annie, and fuck if Will wouldn’t think Tommy was reaping what he sowed. And he is, isn’t he? Tommy deserves this. This fucking misery is his just desserts, and for just a second, he’s glad he can feel it. He’s glad he doesn’t have to pretend.

“No, there’s no one,” Tommy says wildly. “And it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t fucking matter.” 

“I don’t–” 

“It doesn’t matter if I want it,” Tommy cries. “Don’t you know that?” 

A few passersby glance at them, and Alex takes another step back. “Jesus Christ.” 

Tommy turns away, raking his hands over his face and dragging his tears with them. He can feel the vodka sloshing in his stomach, and his chest burns. He braces himself against the building. 

“Look,” Alex says, his voice careful and even, like he’s talking to a spooked animal–which, Tommy supposes, he is. “I don’t know what your deal is, but I don’t feel right just leaving you here.” 

“I’m fine,” Tommy murmurs. “You can–you can go.” 

“Yeah, sure you are.” 

I’m not, Tommy wants to say. But he doesn’t, because what would it accomplish? Alex isn’t going to touch him now, and Tommy still doesn’t know if he wants him to. What does this guy know about him? Nothing. He thinks that Tommy is a dancer. He doesn’t know what Tommy really is, and Tommy can’t tell him. Tommy can’t tell anyone. No one wants to hear. He’s supposed to be better. This is supposed to be easier than it is. But he can feel Alex’s eyes on his back, and it’s like he’s back in the glass box. 

He should have just stayed in the truck. He should have sat and stared at his phone and waited for Annie. 

He should have gone home with Alex, and now it’s too late. It’s too late for so many things. 

Tommy’s phone suddenly buzzes against his hip. He swipes his arm across his eyes and digs into his pocket. 

Annie Barker On our way back. Ready when you are. 

The screen lights up again. 

Annie Barker We’ll wait out front. 

“Tommy?” 

Another message comes in.

Annie Barker He wants to see you too. <3

“Okay,” Tommy murmurs. He keeps his phone in his hand, keeping his other hand pressed against the wall. “Okay.” 

“Look, can I give you my number?” Somehow, Alex hasn’t left him yet. “No funny business, just–will you let me know that you get to wherever you’re going safely? You’re going somewhere, right? You have somewhere to go?” 

“Yeah,” Tommy says. He forces himself to stand, and he turns to face Alex, letting his left leg make up for his right. He doesn’t look up. “I’m sorry,” he says softly. 

“Tommy the dancer,” Alex says softly. Tommy feels him move closer again, but Alex doesn’t touch him. “I’m sorry. For whatever it is that happened to you.” 

He reaches his hand out, and Tommy hands over his phone, letting his fingertips crest softly over the heel of Alex’s palm when he draws away. Alex taps in his number and hands it back. 

“Will you make it okay?” Alex asks.

“I’ll be okay.” It’s what Tommy’s meant to say, even if he doesn’t know how to believe it. “Really.” 

“Make sure you let me know that you are,” Alex says. 

Tommy slips his phone into his pocket and taps it against his hip. “I will.”

Alex leaves him then, and this time, it’s Tommy who watches. He waits until he can’t see Alex anymore, and then he heads back toward the train, his gait slower and more stilted than when he started. Every step is a reminder of what he’s lost, but he is still standing, and Will is waiting for him.

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