#sorry for all the tagging i just feel wrong not giving credit where its due fhgfhfjgf

[rae-gar-targaryen]

alight with the lights out | diego hargreeves x reader [tua]

A/N: Thank you for all of your interest after I posted the teaser! It was VERY surprising and humbling; I’ve NEVER had so many people ask for a tag before. I only ask that if you asked for a tag, you interact with this fic SOMEHOW. And go find another story you love and REBLOG IT! LET THAT WRITER KNOW YOU LOVE THEM!

I’ll be honest, I’m very nervous about this one. I’m not sure if it turned out as good on paper as it did in my head. Please let me know what you liked and what you didn’t!

Pairing: Diego Hargreeves x vigilante, powered!Reader; this one may read a bit more like an OC because I’ve given the reader backstory, powers. She’s (you’re) a vigilante who regularly runs into Diego. I keep the physical description vague, so I hope you can still imagine yourself! 

Warnings: Language; who doesn’t love getting a little sweary? Violence, fighting, references to a shitty childhood, and separately, implied sexual assault (nothing graphic, I promise); angst and angsty dialogue; SMUT-- 18+ ONLY PLEASE; lots of cocktease dialogue, fingering, pierced nipples (the reader’s not Diego’s-- sorry), biting, rough sex, choking. Romance is its own warning. Fluff.

Word Count: 12.1k of sexy, self-righteous vigilantism, half-baked metaphor and of course, at least one literary reference. 

Summary: Diego Hargreeves, aka The Kraken, is secure about few things in life; one of those things being his vigilantism. He’s a hero. Until he meets a fighter who shares the same hobby, albeit with different methodologies. Diego isn’t quite as certain about her, but her mysterious abilities make him think he and his siblings aren’t the only ones in this world with power. If only she and Diego could just stay out of each others’ hair. It’s a good, old-fashioned ENEMIES TO LOVERS, lads!

Link to my playlist of songs that inspired this fic: here

NOT MY GIF

----

You wouldn't hurt anyone who didn't deserve it. That was rule number one. Hell, if you could get away with it at all, you wouldn’t hurt anyone. 

But Mr. Adler hated children. And he had made it his mission to not understand you. To regard you with the utmost disdain. And unfortunately for you, Mr. Adler had married your mother when you were six years old. 

You had never known another father. Your mother refused to talk about the circumstances of your birth, or of the man who had supposedly been responsible. The lack of identity loomed like a large question mark over certain portions of your life. 

And Mr. Adler, that loud, controlling lout, was not about to fill that void. 

When you were in elementary school, you began to feel like you were different from the other children. Watching them carry about their days with their steel-pressed pop culture lunch boxes and not a care in the world. While you sensed your music teacher’s sadness when her cat had died. You could feel every anxiety that passed through your classmates on the day of a spelling test. You didn’t know why you could feel these things. You just could.

Prominently above them all, you could feel Mr. Adler’s hatred for you, like a thick, toxic wall every time you passed through your front door and into what was supposed to be your sanctuary. 

He shouted at you for inane things, like the pantry door being left open, or the fact that your mother was tired after cooking dinner, insisting you never did enough to help. As a child of eight, what did he expect you to do? You kept your room clean, cleared and set the table, helped your mom water the plants in her garden. What more could Adler want from you?

Still, Mr. Adler’s hate for you colored your every interaction with him, the world you saw him through tinged with an orange-red lens of rage. 

You had never tried expanding upon your grasp of others’ feelings until you had witnessed a boy in your class push your pigtailed classmate, Annabelle, down on the playground. Anna’s shock, fear and sadness had bitten into you from the other side of the sandbox like an unwelcome spider bite, sudden and itchy. 

It didn’t sit right with you. To you, how was this boy any different from Adler? Reigning terror over someone else just because he thought he could. You’d recognize that red-orange tinge in another person anywhere. 

You stood, marching over to the boy, gripping his wrist firmly in your stubby, grubby fingers. Quick as a flash, you were met with every emotion this boy had ever felt -- annoyance at Anna (she wouldn’t share her toys. How selfish, the boy had thought); anger (how dare you grab him!); and finally, prominently, fear. 

Fear looked different for everyone, you had noticed. For some, like this boy, it was an ugly green, so like jealousy. For others, like Adler when he’d been drinking, it was an inky black you could drown in. Fear was clearly the strongest. You knew that now.

You gripped the boy’s fear in your own mind, pushing it to the forefront until he began to cry, his eyes welling with the sudden fear he couldn’t understand. 

“You won’t do that again,” you said. Turning to Anna, you offered a hand to help her up, but she just shook her head, pigtails flying, and scampered away from you. 

Your teachers were clearly afraid of you after that. Could sense that something wasn’t right. Anna? You thought she’d be grateful ... but the chilly pale yellow of her fear, and everyone else’s, followed you wherever you went. 

Fine, you thought. If they wouldn’t be grateful for what you could do, you may as well help yourself. 

From then on, you exploited your teachers’ happiness -- pop quizzes became less frequent. Everytime they wanted to scold you for incomplete homework, they were left grasping at straws and with the daze of an emotion they couldn’t name. 

Adler hated you for it. 

“I knew there was something wrong with you,” he sneered over your mother’s weeping objections. “I don’t know what it is, but I know there’s something.” 

Once you reached 18, you left for the neighboring bustling metropolis and didn’t look back. The world was full of people like Adler, like the boy in the sandbox, like your teachers, who tried to use their own fear to feed their hate, to exploit others. To exercise false power over them. 

Well, you wouldn’t have it. If it meant a few of those assholes got hurt, well, so be it. 

You lived like that for years. Until --

---

"I hope you choke on it," you hissed, watching the smoky black tendrils slither their way around the man, constricting -- bringing him to his knees, hacking and gasping. "I see your fear, I feel it all. You deserve this, you know you do," you lectured, advancing toward the man, your hands raised. 

He was seconds away, you knew it-- and then one more scumbag would be off the streets for good ...

Things were going your way, you were in your favorite position in an altercation-- you know, the one where you had the upper hand? Everything was coming up you, until--

Your ears were met with a whizzing noise mere seconds before a sharp, shiny something nicked your cheek and lodged into the wooden beam just past you. 

Your gaze left the piteous man before you long enough to see what looked like a small, but dangerously sharp, knife embedded in the beam. You reached up and plucked it from its resting place, spinning it in your palm before catching the hilt in a clutching grip. You turned to see where it had come from, your eyes catching a dark blur flipping from the fire escape of the opposite building, before said blur landed at your feet.

Standing at his full height, the blur-- no, the Kraken himself-- towered above you.

You had to admit, the stories didn't do him justice. Standing before you in head-to-toe black and a harness replete with shimmering, twinkling edges and danger, you could've sworn he was your knight in shining leather. His cropped hair and facial scars gave him the air that he was every bit as sharp and deadly as the many blades that adorned his body. His oilslick eyes so like mirthless pits of danger, daring to suck you beneath their surface. He was, in a word, imposing.

Regarding you from behind his Venetian domino mask, he spoke, "Miss I'm gonna need you to drop the knife and let this man go."

You snorted.

"You're joking, right?" Not giving him a chance to respond, you chuckled as you swung at him with the hand still holding what you now knew to be his blade. 

You'd give credit where it was due, Diego Hargreeves, aka Number Two, aka the Kraken, was every bit as fast as they'd said. In this regard, the stories and Umbrella Academy-related media hadn't been wrong. 

Diego dodged your swing, bending his body back before twirling around to strike at your torso, like a snake, with his heavy, hammered fist.

The hit knocked the wind out of you, effectively breaking your concentration, and, devastatingly, your connection with the previously fear-choked man cowering in the alley behind you. As you recovered from Diego's hit and swung around to check your quarry, you could only watch as he shook himself from your fear-induced trance.

He scraped and scrabbled to get up off his knees as Diego shouted at him to "Go, just get out of here!"

You snarled and swung a well-aimed high kick at Diego's head, connecting with just enough of his jaw to drop him. As soon as your proverbial window opened, you turned from Diego to run after the man. But even grounded from a blow, Diego was formidable. He shot his arm out and snagged your ankle, yanking you to the ground. 

The gritty pavement scraped your palms as you attempted to catch yourself on your way down, growling as you glanced up to see that loathsome cockroach of a man slip out of the alley, huffing as his bloated legs carried himself far away from you. 

You tossed a glance over your shoulder to see Diego righting himself as he stood up, looking down at you before shrugging, offering you his hand.

"Not a chance," you scoffed, knocking his hand away. You rolled slightly back, arched up, and used your hands to help you spring as you lept to your feet in one smooth movement. You landed with a thud of your boots, your feet spread apart, and arms raised in a boxer's stance. 

Diego had the decency to look slightly surprised at your obviously-dangerous athleticism. He shook himself slightly as he regarded you. 

Besides, he thought, taking in your stature, it's not as though you were any match for him. No way.

"Why would you get in my way, Umbrella douche?" You bit out harshly, glaring daggers at the knife-wielding Kraken.

"Come on, hot stuff," Diego shrugged. "If you know who I am, you gotta know it's not like I can just let you mug that man with … well, whatever you were doing to him." What he had seen you do in the alley seemed to be catching up with him as he cocked his head and queried, "What exactly were you doing to him, by the way? I mean, other than hurting a civilian?"

"A civilian?" You spat. "You don't know what you're talking about, do-gooder. If you knew what he was, you wouldn't be defending him so staunchly." 

“And what was he?” Diego pressed. 

“That dickless fuckhead would-be-rapist isn’t worth the shit on your shoe,” you snarled. “And you let him get away. Nice job, hero,” you sing-songed the last word mockingly, taking advantage of Diego’s lowered guard to level a swinging hit to his nose. 

Your punch landed with a satisfying crack, Diego stumbling back, shaking his head. 

“What in the ever-loving FUCK is wrong with you, lady?” Diego shouted. 

“Take your hits like a big boy. Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of ‘Big Deal?’ ” you asked, advancing toward Diego, fists raised. 

“Honey, my reputation precedes me for a reason,” Diego quipped back, blocking your next swing and making one of his own toward your gut. 

The two of you sparred in the alleyway, whirling and spinning in a very violent dance between two unwilling partners -- Diego, clearly pulling his punches, while you were obviously preoccupied with your rage at your escaped quarry. 

Diego flipped and spun and swung his fists with a speed that bordered on unnatural. His jabs and kicks annoyingly landed, as you were really only able to block just about every other hit. Fuck him for being so fast. 

So it was true, you thought, the superpower hype was real. Well, two could play that game. 

At Diego’s next hit, you caught his fist, allowing the contact to create the connection you needed, feeling for Diego and any underlying emotion that would be his undoing, before latching onto your favorite-- past the overstuffed confidence, you tasted simmering rage. Beyond that? A tiny prickle of … was that??…Ah, yes, the stinging, burns-so-good zip of lust... File that one away for later … and beneath it all lay Diego’s stammering, stuttering, suffocating fear. 

You dug your proverbial claws into it once you found it, bringing it to the surface, manifesting it into your signature smoky tendrils. 

Drag them down with their own fear. 

Diego’s eyes widened as he looked down to see his legs wrapped in what looked like snakes. Suddenly, his worst memories of fearful days under his father’s tyrannical reign were the only things in his brain. The shouting proclamation his own inadequacies in his father’s too-posh voice pounded within his skull. It was all he could think about -- Your presence before him seemed to dwindle, he couldn’t focus on you, try as he might-- when he was overcome with the feelings of every bad memory he had ever suffered through bearing down on him like the crushing weight of the ocean, pulling him under with the riptide of his own panic and inadequacies.

What the fuck was this shit? 

He pushed through his sudden indifference toward you to regard you, the woman stood before him. Diego’s fist clenched as he took in your own grip clutching around his wrist. Your eyes were closed as your face was screwed up in concentration. 

Repulsive. You were repulsive, he suddenly thought. How could he have cared so much about hurting you when his own terror and agitation sat heavy on his tongue, like ugly curdled cream?

But he hadn’t always felt this way-- not his usual modus operandi, was it? So what was this? Was this-- you?? Was this what you had done to that man?

Diego began to dredge himself through his own agitation, past his father’s lilting abuse… through the mire of never-quite-being-enough against Luther... dragging his proverbial feet through a bog of his own self-hatred. Just long enough to wrench his wrist from your grip, grabbing you by the shoulders and spinning around, slamming you probably a little too hard into the wall behind him. Your eyes snapped open as your head made a minor thwack off the  alleyway-- you had just enough time to tilt your head to the left as Diego brought one of his knives down, driving it into the wall a sliver from the space your face had previously occupied. 

Diego bore his weight on his toes, leaning his imposing height into and over you, panting and snorting heavily through his nose. You looked at his eyes behind his mask-- hardened flints of pissed-off-superhero glared back at you.

“W-wh-What the F-f-UCK was that?” Diego spit, lip curling over his teeth in a gruesome snarl. 

A fleeting flicker of shame passed through you. He hadn’t really done anything to deserve that, had he? Before you shook yourself out of it-- No! He let that rat-faced motherfucker get away! 

You fixed your face into an impassive mask of your own before you chirped, annoyingly, “What was what?” 

Diego chuckled mirthlessly, shaking his head.  “Nuh-uh. How did you do that?” Diego pressed, leaning even closer to you, if that were possible.

“Do what?” you chimed innocently, tilting your chin up, eyes meeting Diego’s from beneath your lashes. Maintaining your feigned ignorance.

“Don’t do that,” Diego snarled. “Don’t play dumb. I think we both know at this point-- you’re alot of things, and dumb isn’t one of them.” 

“You’d know all about playing dumb, wouldn’t you, pretty boy? Or for you, is it not really playing?” You reached up and ran a finger along his sharp jaw before tweaking his chin and dropping your hand back to your side. You sighed at Diego’s stone face. Honestly, it was so boring when they didn’t bite back.

“I don’t know what to tell you, cutie pie. I can’t help it. People are just drawn to me,” you quirked an eyebrow. “Or repulsed by me. I really haven’t decided.” You fluttered your eyelashes at him, ever the pretty picture. 

Diego leaned further into you, pressing your back further and further into the wall. All the while, his leather-gloved grip creaked around the handle of the knife he’d plunged into the wall next to your head as he gripped it tighter. 

“Huh,” he mused, scoffing at you lightly. “Ya know something, doll? I just don’t fuckin’ buy it.” 

“Babe, if you wanted to play bad cop, all you had to do was ask,” you smirked as the stone face slid from his features and gave way to "surprised face."

“Honestly, honey,” you slinked up Diego’s body, propping yourself onto your toes and brushing his lips ever-so-lightly with your own as you spoke into his mouth, “Did you really think you and your reject siblings were the only ones in this whole wide world with a little … taste … of power?” you purred. 

Ah, you thought, and there it was. 

The warming, zinging hum that your ability recognized as Diego’s lust crept through your fingertips that were currently resting on his chin. You were sure if you took the time to analyze exactly who was feeling what, that this feeling of craving wouldn’t be as one-sided as you’d otherwise have hoped. Diego was, you had to admit, very pretty -- for a man. 

The swirling galaxies in his midnight eyes regarded you with confusionangerwant.  Had you really just -- kinda kissed him?

You took advantage of Diego’s surprised state to knock his grip from your shoulder and shove -- hard. Diego toppled back, and you took off as fast as your enhanced body would carry you, cutting down the alley and away from your fascinatingly frustrating new rival. 

Diego took in your retreating form from his final resting place in the disgusting alley’s concrete. Slamming his fist into the rough-gravel ground, groaning out his frustration and anger.

You were gone. 

What were you? 

Were you really like him? Like the others?

---

Diego shuffled into Hargreeves Manor, determined to see who else was around. Surely they, or Pogo, would know if there were others like them out there. Had he been the only one to run into one? Was it all a hoax?

As he wandered into the cavernous, but simultaneously stuffy, living room, sure enough-- there was Klaus, sprawled across the couch, arm slung over his face in a restless nap. 

“Klaus!” Diego barked, startling the spindly man from his perch on the couch and onto the floor. 

Klaus looked balefully up at his brother from his spot on the carpet. “Jeeeesus, Diego, really? What do you want that made that necessary,” Klaus grumbled.

“Have you seen Pogo?” 

“I haven’t seen anything but the back of my eyelids for the last several hours, thank you very much,” Klaus replied, “Although, I did have a very good dream about running into an old friend of mine in the grocery store. He was always so convinced he was straight. But I think the rest of my dream calls bullshit.” Klaus chuckled to himself. 

“Yeah, whatever, man. I need to talk to Pogo,” Diego stressed, turning to leave the living room.

“Well, wait, wait, wait. What is so important?” Klaus queried, clambering up and lumbering across the room to catch Diego’s arm.

Diego sighed, facing his brother. 

“Do you think … Do you think we’re the only ones like us?” He asked.

“Well, there’s no one like you, brother,” Klaus chuckled, taking on a rumbling, Diego-esque mocking tone, “I’m Number Two!” He cackled to himself for a moment before coming back to himself with a sigh. “And honestly, we all know I’m an original. So I’m not sure I take your meaning.” 

“I mean… it couldn’t just be the seven of us, right? There’s a lot of other people in the world… it just makes sense others could do things like what we can?” Diego pressed.

Klaus started. He had never seen this look in his brother’s eye before. The unhinged mania of a fight? Sure. Crushing doubt? Obviously. But not this … fierce certainty buried beneath a question. This was new for Diego. He must be serious. 

Klaus blinked, regarding his brother, before slowly nodding. “I mean… sure… theoretically, there could be others. But I don’t know any. Why? Did you find someone?” 

Diego drew in a breath, unsure of how much he wanted to reveal to Klaus. After all, you were his nemesis. His pain in the ass. His whatever you were. 

Diego crossed the room again, back to the couch Klaus had previously occupied, before sitting down in a creak of leather and clink of blades still strapped to his harness. Propping his elbows on his thighs, he placed his head in his hands. 

“I don’t know. I think so? I found her while I was out patrolling, and I … I don’t really know how to describe what I saw.” 

Klaus placed himself next to his erstwhile sibling, tucking his feet beneath himself as he sat, reaching up to pat Diego on the shoulder.

“There, there, big guy. Just… tell me what happened,” Klaus crooned.

Diego launched into the story of finding you in the alley, choking the man with your smoke without even laying a hand on him. He described to Klaus how the two of you had fought, and how you had called the man a “would-be-rapist” before knocking Diego to the ground and making your getaway. 

“Well, she sounds hot.” 

“Helpful, Klaus,” Diego deadpanned. 

“Oh, isn’t it obvious, sweet Dee?” Klaus chimed at the end of Diego’s story. At his brother’s nonplussed look, Klaus continued. “She’s just like you! She likes to put on her Batman underoos and fight crime,” he chuckled. “Even if she is like… us… she clearly can do something different. But I think the most telling thing is how obviously into her you are.” 

Diego sputtered, “Wh-what?? I am not into that … psycho. Whatever she can do, that’s all I want to figure out.” 

“The lady doth protest too much,” Klaus sing-songed. “Whatever you say, brother. But I think the only way you’ll really figure it out is if you run into her again. I mean, we know dad had his secrets. If he knew about other powered children, don’t you think the Umbrella Academy would’ve been a lot bigger? The world is a big place. I’m sure there’s more out there, but, um… we just didn’t know about it until now?” 

Diego sighed deeply. “Oh, joy,” he muttered. Ignoring the tinge of excitement that passed through him at Klaus’s suggestion he seek you out. 

Klaus clapped his hands joyously, cuffing Diego’s shoulder, shaking him. 

“A nemesis, Diego! How sexy! How exciting!” 

---

Your encounter with one of the Umbrella Academy had left you slightly shaken, to say the least. You were so careful when you went out. No one missed those assholes you took care of. Honestly, you were doing the city a favor. 

Patrolling on any given night would yield one or two men who were plotting something less than savory. And all it took was a brush of skin to determine their true intentions. 

You sighed angrily, ripping off your bodysuit and stomping across your apartment to your shower, yanking back the curtain and twisting the knob forcefully. 

Hot water began to pour from the showerhead, steam filling your bathroom. You regarded your reflection in your bathroom mirror, a distinctly palmlike-bruise adorned your shoulder from where Diego had clutched it, not to mention the scrapes that lined your body from your repeated meetings with the concrete during your sparring. 

You met your own eyes in your reflection, regarding yourself as balefulness gave way to venom. 

Honestly, that toadlike little nobody had deserved what you were about to do to him. You had watched him from the back of the bar as he had annoyingly pressed his presence onto a poor girl who was just trying to enjoy her drink. Her drink that the toad had slipped something in when he thought she wasn’t looking. He even went so far as to grab her wrist with his stubby little hands. That was the final straw. 

You steeled yourself, letting the lustful, rowdy feeling of the other bar patrons that permeated the air like thick smoke take you over. Putting on your best, beguiling smile, you crossed the room and brushed your hand over the man’s bare arm, letting him feel the tingling want that you had absorbed. Simultaneously, you felt everything of his disgusting intent-- the hateful, possessive desire for the girl, the hurt he intended to inflict to trample his own inadequacies and sadness. 

Oh, yeah, you were right about this asshole. 

He looked up at you, disgusting gaze lingering on you, before forgetting all about his intended prey, pushing back from his barstool and venturing behind you out into the alley. 

The rest, as they say, is history. And an annoying vigilante type who had an ass that just wouldn’t quit once encased in black leather just had to rain on your proverbial pain parade. 

Diego Hargreeves… Of course you knew who he was. Everyone knew about the Umbrella kids. And you knew the man once-dubbed The Kraken was still doing his best Caped Crusader (sans cape) and kicking ass by night. Annoyingly self-righteous, really, you thought. Choosing ever-so-delicately to ignore the hypocrisy laden in your thought. Is that not, in effect, what you were doing? Albeit with a little more emotional manipulation and bloodshed. 

As you thought of Diego, your fingers traced the slim, sharp cut his knife had made in your cheek as it surged past you. 

You let the remnants of Diego’s rage that you had felt overtake you, amplified by your own, as you slammed your fist into the small mirror over your sink, letting the shards clatter to the ground around your feet.

Payback was a bitch, and so were you. You didn’t know if Diego Hargreeves was a praying man, but he had better hope to whatever deity would listen that he didn’t run into you again.

You wouldn’t be so kind twice, you told yourself, climbing into your shower and letting the blood and grit from your body swirl down the drain. 

---

As luck wouldn’t have it, your gods were decidedly not on your side. And clearly whatever deity you had mentally implored Diego to pray to was on vacation. 

Because you ran into that maddeningly beautiful dipshit, several times over the following weeks. He would do his best to bust up your party, stopping you from exacting your special brand of vengeance. You’d exchange a few quips and blows before running off before he could ask you the question you knew was burning in his mind. 

You managed to evade prolonged encounters with Diego until about another two weeks later. Too soon, honestly. 

Or not soon enough? God, your inner voice was desperate and annoying. 

You encountered Diego again while you were propped against the wall of a seedy dive on the other edge of town, assessing each person as they passed. While your power worked best if you could touch, some feelings were perfectly easy to pick up from a distance. 

So far, nothing. Just a few gross, horny bikers and depressive barflies. It was a maddeningly slow night. And you doubted you were needed here. 

Just as you were about to call it and head to another hotspot, a familiar prickle passed through you. You glanced up, across the street. 

Sure enough, on the neighboring rooftop, perched Diego Hargreeves in the flesh, surveying you like some kind of Great Value Nightwing. 

You sighed, pushing off the wall and crossing the street. Diego watched as you clambered up the fire escape to meet him on the rooftop. 

“Of course you would be here,” you chastised. “Are you fucking following me? I’ve been a good girl. Haven’t killed anyone in a week. I promise!” You held up your hands in mock surrender, coming to stand in front of Diego’s gloriously firm, leather-clad figure. 

“If you say so, Princess. Maybe I’m just here for a drink?” Diego cocked his head toward the shitty bar whose entrance you were haunting mere moments ago. 

“Doubtful, Underoos. I think…” you trailed off, circling Diego, tapping your finger to your chin in a pondering gesture. “I think you’re babysitting me. Making sure I don’t do your job for you and clean up the streets too well.” 

You ceased your vulture-like circling, coming to stand before Diego. His eyes bore into your own, once again partially obscured behind that stupid mask. As if you didn’t know what he looked like without it. Your eyes weren’t deceiving you when you saw Diego’s eyes flash a quick up-down of your body before resuming his stern visage. 

Oh good, you thought. You recognized the latent feelings buried beneath Diego’s anger. A new one brushed over you-- confusion… He still hadn’t figured you, or, more than likely, your power, out…

You weren’t left in suspense too long. 

“Tell me about what you can do,” Diego pressed, advancing toward you. You took a step back to maintain some distance… best if you can perpetuate some veil of advantage. 

“Ah, ah, ah, baby. It doesn’t work like that,” you chided. “You think I’m just going to spill all of my secrets because why? You’re cute? Try again. Ask nicely,” you smirked, pushing your lips into a tantalizing pout.

Diego rolled his eyes. You weren’t going to play fair? Fine, neither was he. Honestly, his fuse was too-fuckin-short for your shit. He wanted answers, even if he had to beat them out of you. Quick as a flash, he strode toward you, jumping into a flip and kicking you down to the ground upon his landing. 

You looked up at him, standing over your body as it lay on the gravelled rooftop, bringing your hand up to touch your jaw, where his boot had collided with your face not moments ago. 

You grinned widely, savagely, around bloodied teeth and split lips. "So that’s how we’re going to play? Do your worst, Big Deal. I like when it hurts."

With that, you swung your leg at Diego’s, causing him to topple beside you, where you promptly rolled over, coming to straddle his hips, bringing your hands to his wrists, the direct contact allowing you to bring his fear to the forefront. 

Just as you were about to choke him with the smoke of his own fear, Diego surged upright, his arms breaking free from the grip of your wrists, his own hands coming to close around your throat. He squeezed insistently, enough to break your concentration-- the smoke dissipating as soon as it had come. With that, he had managed to roll the two of you over, you flat on your back as one of his thighs came to rest between yours. 

You gasped, looking up at Diego with fiery shock looming in your eyes. 

“Wow,” you rasped, “I told you before-- if you wanted to play bad cop, all you had to do was ask.” 

Diego removed one hand from your throat, bringing it to his own head and ripping off his flimsy excuse for a mask. He regarded you with nacreous, tarpit eyes that glowed and glittered with the streetlights, his breath coming in ragged, uneven puffs through his sinfully full lips. His cropped hair was glistening with sweat borne equally from the heat of the night and your encounter. 

“Baby, I think you owe me an explanation first,” He pressed, squeezing your throat lightly, free hand pulling a knife from his harness that he spun in his fingers while gazing down at you. 

You whined, rolling your hips against where his thigh rested between your legs. 

“This would be so much more fun if you’d just do things my way,” you pouted at Diego. 

“Maybe I would, if you would bother to tell me what your way is,” Diego retorted.

“I could tell you, or I could show you,” you purred, rolling your hips again. “I’m all about more fun.” 

Diego sighed. The familiar buzz of lust radiating from your skin-- or was it his own-- that always seemed to hang over your encounters was pressingly prevalent and it was all he could do to not just give in. He gritted his teeth, and shook his head. 

“No. Come on. I know what you’re doing… whatever it is. Just … tell me what it is you can do. Tell me why you’re hurting those people,” he implored.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, using your free hands to knock his grip from your throat and coming to a sitting position, as Diego remained crouched over you. 

“All you hero-types. You’re no fun. You want to know what I can do? That pleasant little hum you feel? That’s you. Well, it’s me. But it’s you. I don’t make anyone feel what they don’t already… but I can use it against them. That first night at the bar? That,” you shuddered, “That rat was going to force himself on some poor girl. I could feel his every feeling as he was preying on her. I had to stop it. It’s simple, honeybunch. I do what you do, but better. I’ll make them choke in it, their own fear, their self-hatred, their inadequacy, their lust, I’ll drown them in it, and they’ll thank me for it. Because I’m nothing if not merciful,” you gritted out. 

Diego’s mind reeled, jaw slack from your confession. He knew it! You were an empath, an enhanced emotional manipulator. Except you seemed to be able to manifest emotions into something tangible, something harmful. 

Suddenly, the weight of your confession seemed to crush Diego, you had exploited every feeling of his during your encounters to gain an upper hand. And he hadn’t truly known about it until now. 

You felt the surge of his rage, his disgust, his fear with you before he could say it-- 

“You c-can’t-- you can’t do that,” Diego said. “Kililng people who haven’t even done anything yet? It’s w-wrong. Y-you’re w-wro-wrong,” He stuttered out, clearly distressed, but advancing even further into your space.

“As opposed to you?” You bit out. “You wait until someone’s already hurting or hurt someone else to do something. How are you any better? Who are you to judge me,” you spit through gritted teeth. 

“You’re a killer,” Diego pressed, pushing back from you and coming to stand.

“Sticks and stones. So are you. But I don’t hate you for it,” you snarled, jumping into a standing position, squaring your shoulders before Diego’s imposing form. 

“You could always work with me,” Diego offered, “ We could take what you can do and just… re-tool it a bit.” 

You ground out a harsh laugh. 

“Unlikely, you absolutely patronizing dick. You don’t want anything to do with me other than to change me, control me. You’re just like them.” 

With that, you unleashed a slew and flurry of attacks on Diego, swinging your hips around to level a kick at his gut, knocking him to his knees, where your arm was ready to strike a heavy blow against his cheek, your rage fueling the unnatural strength behind the hit. 

Diego sprawled against the concrete of the rooftop, half conscious after blows you’d dealt him. 

You stood over Diego now, looking down at his prone form. 

“I would never want anyone who only means to stifle me. To take me apart until there’s nothing left. Never.” You spit a glob of bloodied saliva at Diego’s feet, leaving him in his semi-conscious, battered state-- the guilt only slightly prickling you. 

His fear-- choking on half-gasped words from behind the tremulous task of tripping over his own tongue-- followed you like a stuttering stormcloud. It stung. Knowing that he was afraid of you.

---

Okay. The guilt was more than slight. 

All he had wanted to do was help, right? 

Years alone with your power, the sting of Adler’s rejection as a child, it all weighed down on you like the crushing magnitude of Atlas. You didn’t really want to hurt him. 

You sighed, resolute. You just needed to make sure.

With that, you headed out in the storm. Headed toward Diego. 

---

The rain pounded on the walls of the Fighting Lion, plunking heavily like half-hewn nails tossed onto the small window in Diego’s back bedroom. He could hear as it landed on the brick, the wet stone and stormy atmosphere making the air thick with the scent of sagebrush and rain. 

A kind of whoosh passed through the room, prompting him to turn from where he was folding his laundry on the bed to see you propped against the door, legs crossed at the ankles, looking every bit as if you belonged. 

“Wow, Big Deal. Nice digs,” you said as you sauntered in the room, staring at the case at the foot of the bed that was full of Diego’s knives. “Not what I’d expect coming from a dude who hails from the city’s biggest mansion. But still -- homey.” 

Diego ignored the jab about his upbringing in favor of the real question.

“How did you get in here?” He asked, seemingly --and to you, maddeningly-- disinterested in your presence as he continued stacking his paired socks into their rightful place in his bureau. 

“Uh, have you seen this place? It’s not exactly rigged with ‘Entrapment’ levels of security,” you snarked, folding your arms across your chest.

“Does that make you a cat burglar? Are you Catherine Zeta-Jones in this scenario?” Diego glanced at you from his socks, cocking a strong eyebrow. 

“If you want me to be, sweetie,” you shrugged. “But, uh -- and don’t take this the wrong way, Diego, but you don’t exactly have anything I’d want to steal.” 

“Then I’ll amend the question. What are you doing here?” Diego asked, finally turning to fully face you, taking in your form as you stood by his bed. The sight causing a pleasantly-unpleasant little something to prickle across his skin. 

No, no, it’s not like that, he chided himself. Besides. You were an absolutely monumental pain in his ass. And his head. And basically every other body part of his you came in contact with. Nope, nope... Don’t think about her body parts “coming into contact” with anything of yours, he scolded. 

“Aw, well now, Big Deal. Maybe I just missed you?” You mused. 

“Doubtful. Did you come back to kick my ass with your freaky little homicidal chokehold some more?” Diego snapped.

Ouch. Maybe you had gone too far in your last little encounter. After all, wasn't that why you were there? To check on your favorite knife-wielding antagonist? To make sure you hadn't actually hurt him?

But what came out instead was--

"Is there any other kind of chokehold?" You hummed, arching your brow. 

Before he could stop himself, Diego retorted, “Based on our last meeting, I think you know there is." 

Momentarily stunned into silence, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks at the memory of his hands on your throat, you dropped your arms from where they were crossed at your chest down to your sides, hands flexing nervously. You chuckled.

"Heh. As tempting as that offer is, pretty boy, I only came to make sure I didn't ring your bell too bad."

Diego leaned against his dresser, tilting his head back and looking down his perfect, strong nose at you. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I must be going fuckin' deaf. Did you just say you slunk in here with your little kitten tail between your legs to say you were sorry?" Diego snorted, obviously pleased with himself as he saw the obvious fluster cross your face.

Okay, now he was pissing you off. You came here with good will and he sasses you? Two can play at that, as you two so often do...

"You must be fuckin' deaf, dipshit. I didn't say I was here to say I was sorry. I did say I wanted to make sure I didn't kick your sorry ass into oblivion. Which, you're obviously fine, so I'll just be going." You crossed Diego's room, breezing for the door.

Honestly, why did you think this was a good idea? Stupid, stupid, stupid…

Diego caught your arm as you passed him in your hurried attempt at an exit. You gave a half-hearted tug to pull your arm from Diego's grip, surprised to find how firm it was. You turned your head to meet Diego's gaze, throat closing around your sudden nerves. Diego's eyes were molten, boring into you with quizzical questions and low-burning heat. His grip on your arm afforded you an insight into the unique blend that was his confusion and simmering passion.

"What are you doing?" You asked.

"Come on," Diego drawled. "You clearly know what I'm feeling. But I have no idea what you're feeling. You have me at a disadvantage. I don't like it."

"Every time we meet, I have you at a disadvantage," you snarked. At the brief hurt that flashed across Diego's face, you sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I meant what I said when I told you I was coming to check on you … I just--" 

You looked down at your feet, the laces in your boots suddenly incredibly interesting to you. Diego's other hand gently gripped your chin, his thumb pressing into its apex, fingers curled beneath your jaw.

"D-don't do that-- keep going. Tell me what you're feeling for once," Diego implored, eyes meeting yours once more, lips ever-so-close to yours. “Please,” he added, softly.

Had your heart been thudding like this the whole time?? Was your jacket always this hot? All you could hear was the pounding sheet of rain, pressing itself into your brain, growing fuzzier. Diego's proximity to your person was decidedly distracting. Wholeheartedly overwhelming. 

Could he really not tell what you were thinking? You were certain at this point it must be written all over your face. Were you not being obvious?? Your burning ardor for him creeping through every inch of your person, drowning your intentions and better sensibilities in anything and everything Diego Hargreeves. You swallowed the lump in your throat before speaking.

"I'm feeling-- was feeling … guilty. The last time I saw you.. I h-hit you...  pretty hard. So, you win. I guess I am here to tell you I'm sorry." You brushed your fingers softly over the bruise that adorned his prominent, proud cheekbone. "I… I just wanted you to be okay. Because I think you were just trying to help. And that's stupid. It's stupid. I'm sorry," you hurriedly stammered. 

Diego relinquished his grip on your arm, allowing his hand to travel down your side until it met your waist. He cocked his head and studied your eyes with his own mercurial ones-- searching for any hint of mistruth in your confession, but seemingly finding none. 

After all, he too knew the honesty behind words that struggled to come out.

"You were… worried about me? You?"

"Let's not make a big thing of this, big boy. You're obviously fine. I shouldn't have come… An honest mistake. Won’t happen again," you started to turn your head, breaking his gaze. 

But Diego's grip on your chin firmed, forcing you to look at him again before surging forward and crushing his lips to yours. 

And, oh, this was bliss-- you were just sure of it. Your yearning manifested itself in the hand you had placed on Diego's cheek, cupping your hands to the sides of his face before dragging them back to thread through the closely-cropped hair at the nape of his neck, then passing your hands up through his longer hair toward the top of his head and tugging. You took advantage of the gasp Diego elicited at that sensation, sweeping your tongue into his mouth. 

Your shared lust bled through your connected skin, hands on faces and elsewhere…  washing over you both like warm static, a pleasant buzz akin to drinking just a little too much champagne. 

Diego’s hands tugged at the hem of your rain-dampened hoodie, tugging it over your head. Your newly-exposed skin prickled with goosebumps at the sudden chill. You had run over here in the rain, after all. Diego’s darkened, honeyed gaze reverently took in your form. 

Never one to waste an opportunity, you took the break in action as your chance to respond in kind-- peeling his skin-tight black crewneck shirt from his own gloriously-sculpted body. 

The two of you stood, staring at each other’s exposed torsos, ragged breaths dragging through the air of passion so-stifling the room like incense you’ve left burning for too long. 

Diego stared at your chest, breasts heaving from behind the scrap of lace that constituted your bralette-- were those piercings that made your nipples poke so prominently through the lace? WIth this realization, Diego felt himself harden. He lunged for you with a growl, scooping you by the waist and dropping you with a bounce onto his bed. 

His mouth latched onto your throat, sucking insistently while his powerful hands rested at the edges of the delicate lace trim of your bra, passing almost reverently across your ribcage. 

You gasped as he brushed a thumb over your nipple, feeling yourself growing wet beneath your leggings. You hmm’d a whine as Diego’s mouth found that spot on your throat, his thumb still rolling circles over your nipple. 

“D-Diego,” you gasped, sucking in air like you’d never properly breathed before.

“Yeah, baby?” 

“Take it off,” you glanced down at the scrap of lace that adorned your chest. “Please,” you intoned, sweetly. 

“Since you asked so nicely,” Diego said,” creeping his fingers beneath the lace to lift it off your skin. Suddenly, with that preternatural speed he’d come to recognize as a gift of those who were enhanced, like himself, you seized his wrist and squeezed. 

“It wasn’t meant to be nice,” you ground out. “Take. It. Off. Now.” 

With that, you released his wrist, and Diego gripped the lace where it rested beneath your breasts with this two hands and tugged, ripping your bralette cleanly in two, exposing your tits to his roving gaze. 

“There you go, Big Deal,” you preened in satisfaction, taking your own hands from where they had previously been resting along his strong abdomen, trailing them down to the top of his jeans. You popped the button on his fly and began tugging his zipper down, before Diego caught your hand as quickly as you had just done to him. 

“I’ve got this, baby,” Diego assured. 

With that, he brought his mouth down to your left breast, swirling his tongue around your nipple, taking the hand still clutching your wrist and planting it above your head. He released your wrist, trailing his hand, down your side until it met the waistband of your leggings. He pressed his fingers beneath the waistband, raking his fingers under your panties, to where you wanted him most. 

As he dragged a finger through your wetness, you gasped out a keening sigh. Diego’s long fingers working magic against your center, rubbing up and down your slit before pressing one, long finger inside. He lifted his mouth from your breast, pressing it to yours to swallow your moan with a searing kiss.

After a few more moments, Diego slid his finger from your center, retracting his hand from your pants, his other hand coming to meet it, peeling your leggings and panties from you in one fluid motion. You lifted and wiggled your hips to assist him. As soon as the leggings were free from your legs, you wasted no time in wrapping your bare legs around Diego’s waist, locking your ankles behind him and pulling him to you, dragging your hands up his neck and into his hair, hissing in pained pleasure as you rolled your hips against Diego’s still denim-clad hardness. 

Diego groaned as he felt your hardened nipples press against his chest, the microscopic bite of cold from your piercings as they touched his warm skin made him sigh.

The room felt like it was bordering on a hundred degrees, the previously champagne-drunk feeling of your shared lust now replaced with a frantic urge to taste and mark every inch of the other as their own. 

As you continued to grind your hips into Diego, he kissed you deeply, tongue sliding into your mouth, running along your own tongue and teeth, tasting every bit of your want for him as he succumbed to the heated buzz of the room. 

Your power had its benefits, he reasoned, if it meant this would feel so… resplendent. 

The mutuality of your shared passion was enough to do you in. You couldn’t be imagining that Diego wanted you as much as you wanted him. If that wasn’t the case, you both wouldn’t be burning like this, writhing atop his bed with pent-up passion and aggression. 

Diego broke his hands from where they had previously been digging bruises into your hips, coming up onto his knees to start shucking his own jeans and underwear off. 

And oh, he thought, you were a vision. As he looked at you while he stripped himself, he was overcome. Your half-lidded gaze swimming with hazy, unfulfilled promises, swirling lazily like the drizzle of sinfully sweet syrup over something forbidden. Your lips were flushed, swollen and lightly bruised from the punishing pace of your shared kisses. Your wickedly luscious curves and the glimmering slick between your thighs on display for only him. In this moment, he felt he could die under whatever your power would dish out, if it meant he died feeling like this. 

Now bared to you in his entirety, Diego positioned himself once more between your legs, his impressive length sliding to where he had guided it along your opening. 

You tossed your head back, eyes closed at the glorious feeling of his skin finally meeting yours where you wanted it most… but, still, it wasn’t enough. 

“Di- eh - go,” you panted, your glimmering gaze meeting his lustrously darkened one. “P-please, I need it. I need you,” you cried piteously, clutching his shoulders and grinding your hips once more against him.

Diego chuckled, only to happy to oblige. With a guiding hand and a smooth flex-and-thrust of his hips, Diego entered you with a powerful, needed thrust. You cried out, sound going straight to his cock, twitching from its rightful place inside of you. 

“There, now, baby,” Diego crooned, bringing his mouth back to yours and humming into your open lips. “Doesn’t that feel ... So. Much. Better?” He punctuated each of his last few words with hard, firm thrusts of his hips. 

You nodded, eagerly fusing your mouths together, rolling your hips in kind to meet Diego’s sweet, but punishing thrusts. 

“After all that shit you pulled with me,” DIego ground out, “It’s nice to know-- this is what you really wanted. Fuck--” he broke off as you clenched around him just right. “This is what you needed.” 

You whined your assent, keening and high-pitched. 

“Mmmm, I want y-you, as much as you want me,” you gasped out, Diego’s brutal thrusting brushing your clit with his pubic bone, bringing you ever closer, closer, closer to that teetering edge. You lifted yourself up to balance on one hand and meet Diego’s face where he was hovering above you, your sweat-slicked bodies pressing into one another with a delicious, filthy heat. You looked into his eyes, your jaw slack with the stupidly good feeling of everything he was doing to you. 

You turned your head to face his sculpted shoulder, and grazed your teeth there, biting into the apex of his arm. Diego hissed, obviously pleased with the feeling, bringing his hand to your neck, fingers wrapping around your throat and tearing your teeth away from his shoulder, guiding your mouth back to his with the pads of his fingers lightly pressing into your airway.

You gasped, the combined feeling of his kiss, his pressing, insistent touch, and his cock inside you brushing repeatedly against that spot of your inner walls causing you to clench, crying out your sudden, gushing release. 

Diego guided your head back to his pillow, clenching his fist, the same battered-knuckled boxer’s fist that had previously clutched your throat, now clutched around his bedframe as he hammered his final thrusts, pounding into you until he met his release, groaning as he came down from his sudden, bursting high. 

He sighed into your neck, the lovingly sticky heat of your sweaty bodies pressed together as he eased himself from you, pulling you into his side.

You sighed in contentment. 

Was everything Diego Hargreeves did punctuated with such beautiful, forthright power?

---

You both lie in the after, bodies pressed firmly together. It would have been romantically intimate had the primary motivator not been the lack of space on Diego's too-small mattress squeezed along the wall in his room. 

Nevertheless, you lie there in complete contentment, basking in the afterglow and Diego's delightfully even, rhythmic breathing.

Said lothario had his head turned into your cheek, nose brushing against your hair. His arm around you, curling you to him and trailing his fingers up and down your side at a slow, steady pace.

Why couldn't it always be like this? 

After all, fire doused with water still burns brightly at one time, but loses its penchant for destruction, tampered in cool, calming depths and leaving behind cooling steam. So, too, had you and Diego drawn a peaceable, but joyfully sweaty truce. 

In that moment, you could see yourself loving him. You know he'd let you, if you gave him enough time and enough of yourself. The man had not had enough love given to him in his life-- he fought for it, tooth and nail. And had come up woefully empty, like clutching at soft sand that slips through your fingers. He'd had the love of his siblings, sure. But this was -- understandably-- different. You recognized a chasm in him that you often thought you'd never mend within yourself. 

But he was so deserving of love. Whereas you? Well, the jury was still out. 

When you think of Diego, you couldn't help but think of strength. Assuredness. Agility. His aura burned red in your deeper sentiments. Power. You do associate his memory with annoyance, sure, but also a biting wit that he so-oft concealed. And an endearing sentimentality. And an iron will suffused with stubbornness.  

You had gleaned some of this from your foray into exploring his emotions, sure. But you don't use your power at every turn. The rest of it was every impression Diego had devastatingly left you with. You had learned so much of him, you yearned to share a piece of yourself, similarly eager for acceptance. Which then prompted you to share--

“You know,” you piped up in the dark, “You remind me a bit of the main character of my favorite books series-- Ever hear of ‘The Dark Tower?’ You know, the legendary Gunslinger?” 

Diego scoffed at that.

“Guns are for pussies, real men throw knives,” he stated primly, but still unable to conceal the smile in his voice.

“That sounds a little rehearsed, Big Deal. But I’ll let it slide. Besides, you don’t know what you’re missing,” you acquiesced, turning your head to face him, your noses brushing.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m not into all that bookworm stuff. Cuz, ya know, I’m not a fuckin’ virgin,” he chuckled. Obviously pleased with his middle school-grade burn. 

You met his eyes, yours widening in mock surprise. “Oh no?” you gasped. “Well, then why do you dress like one?”

Honestly, it had to be some kind of world record, how fast Diego’s face fell.

"I'm kidding, big boy. You know I dig the black leather," you crooned. Ever eager to smooth the waters of this moment, of his now furrowed brow, back to the placid lake it had been.

"You're goddamn right, you do," Diego chuffed, his grin now prominent in his voice.

You looked at him, your eyes travelling between his shining, ochre eyes and his full lips.

"I do not aim with my hand; he who aims with his hand has forgotten the face of his father. I aim with my eye. 

“I do not shoot with my hand; he who shoots with his hand has forgotten the face of his father. I shoot with my mind.

"I do not kill with my gun; he who kills with his gun has forgotten the face of his father. I kill with my heart," you recited.

Diego regarded you for a moment before brushing his lips across yours, kissing you warmly.

"What was that?" He asked.

"'The Dark Tower,'" you replied. "What? I like to read. You really do remind me of him. Surly, but just. Lost, but ever-searching. Pinpoint accuracy. Deadly. But hasn't lost hope." 

Diego kissed you again, running his hand down your body beneath the covers to grip your bum and roll your body over his, urging you to tarry with him on another burning exploration of one another's bodies.

Yes, you think, sighing as Diego's teeth graze that spot on your neck, his warm palm on your breast. You could easily fall in love with him… if you let yourself. You were probably more than halfway in love with him already.

Oh, no.

---

You awoke to the early-morning sun peeking weakly behind the remnants of fat, overstuffed rainclouds from the night before, purpling the sky as sunlight met grey. 

You took in Diego’s, sweet sleeping form-- his long lashes fringing his sweetly-closed eyes, his cropped hair mussed from a night of tugging, rolling, writhing. He breathed deeply, evenly, peaceably, as evidenced by the repetitive motion of his muscled torso, his long-fingered hands resting along his stomach. 

You couldn’t do this. Couldn’t taint someone so noble and beautiful with your special brand of poisonous manipulation. 

You couldn’t stop yourself as you spoke softly to the sleeping man beside you, coming to sit on the edge of his bed and brushing one hand through his soft hair. 

“You wanted to know about my power? It’s a curse. You think I want this? This? It’s isolation, Diego-- it’s eternal damnation. I shouldn’t be able to do what I can do …  No one should. It’s not a gift, it’s a curse. And it dooms me to a life alone,” your voice cracks as your breath catches in your throat, hitching over tears that were now, suddenly pooling in your eyes. “There’s no trust. It’s what I … It’s what I deserve.” 

With that, you left Diego’s room. Leaving him to wake alone to a cold one-half of his bed, fingers clutching over air and the warm memories of the night before. He blinked in confusion, the sting of your rejection settling beneath his skin. 

---

When you saw Diego again, it was nearly a month after your last… encounter. The sharp knife of anxiety and longing you so regularly felt in yourself since that day, you recognized immediately as emanating from Diego as you watched him limp away from what you assumed was a particularly nasty fight. 

“Big Deal!” You shouted across the street and through the darkness. 

Diego’s head whipped up, head turning to the direction of your voice, before meeting your gaze. He shook his head, looked away, and kept walking. Away from you. 

Ouch. 

Honestly, you could understand why he would. You had done the same to him a month ago. Walked away. But the pinging sting of his rejection dug at you, like glass into the thin skin between your knuckles. 

All you had ever wanted was for other people to understand. But mostly, now, you realized… You really only cared that Diego understood. 

You took off after him, enhanced speed helping you catch up to his limping form outside of a boarded-up, long-closed bar. 

“Diego!” You called, stopping in front of him, causing him to halt.

“What could you possibly want with me, after all this time?” Diego spit.

“I.. I deserve that, Big Deal. I do,” you glanced at your boots, scuffing the toe into the pavement. “Please, just… hear me out?” 

You looked up at Diego. Really looked at him. His beautiful, tawny skin damp with sweat from a fight, his usually bright and mischievous eyes sunken under the weight of tired bags that sat beneath them. He looked drawn, more exhausted than you remember. You caught sight of a particularly nasty, jagged cut on the side of his neck that had clearly only recently stopped bleeding, the splotching clot like a raised, splintering cut from a large cat’s claws. A particularly nasty bruise was already forming around his left eye and onto his beautifully-sculpted, prominent cheek. 

You rushed to meet him, your fingers coming to brush along his cheeks, mindful of the bruise. He closed his eyes at your touch, lashes fanning downward in defeat. 

“Who hurt you? What did they do, Big Deal? Who the fuck did this? If anyone hurt you, I would make them hurt. I’ll make them pay”

Diego dropped the knife you now noticed was previously-clutched in his right hand, bringing his hand to meet your wrist. 

“Don’t do that,” he whispered.

“Don’t do what? Kill the fucker who hurt you? Fine, I’ll just break their knees--” you started, before Diego shushed you.

“No,” he said, “Shut the fuck up. D- Don’t act like you give a shit. Someone who gives a shit wouldn’t bounce for a fuckin’ month. Not after a night like that.” 

Your hand left Diego’s face. 

“I… I deserve that,” you said. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.” And with that, you plopped yourself onto the pavement, sitting on the sidewalk at Diego’s feet. Annoying? Sure. Dramatic? Sure. But if something is stupid and it works, then it isn’t stupid. 

Diego sighed at you, rolling his eyes before coming to sit beside you, gasping out in pain and clutching an obviously bruised rib or two on his way down. 

“Fine. Tell me what the fuck happened. Why’d you go?”

“Diego--” you started… “I-- I can’t be with someone when I’m like this. It never works,” you confessed. 

“Like what?” He pressed, bringing his hand to your knee. 

“I’m-- I’m a monster,” you cried. “Adler knew it. Everyone I meet knows it. It’s only a matter of time before you know it too. I just… I don’t know how to stop.” The tears you thought you could hold at bay were now creeping up and causing your throat to close around your words of contrition. 

“You’re not--” Diego began, but you silenced him with a harsh wave of your hand. 

“You don't understand. You wanted to know how it works? I’ll tell you. The power works based on the other's emotion, sure. I amplify what they feel. Cripple them with it, even. But that's not all… it only works, really works, if it's something I can draw on. They feel what I want them to feel-- because I feel it too …" you admitted. “Everything I ever do to someone else I can only do because I know how it feels. If I want someone to hurt, they’ll hurt… I -- I don’t want to do that to you, too.” 

“You won’t. Not with me,” Diego pressed. 

“And how can you be sure? Even now, I feel how pissed you are at me for leaving. It’s humming beneath your skin. I can feel it.” 

Diego nodded, picking up the knife he had previously dropped and beginning to spin it around in his hand. 

“I know it because I felt it. When we were together,” he sighed. “We both, we both can do these things. Anyone else would piss themselves if it was turned against them. But you look the danger of what I am in the face, and you laugh. When we’re together, we’re matched. The way that room felt? I know what that was.” 

You sat, stunned at Diego’s read of the situation. 

“I take back what I said the first night we met,” you said. At the question in his eyes, you continued, “You’re not dumb. That was… that was… something. But I know how to flex my power. I know what fells all men. Fear is a powerful emotion." 

Diego smiled at you. 

“I hate to break it to you, princess, but I’m not scared of you. I know you think I am, but I’m not. And you know what's even stronger than fear? Love."

You looked at Diego, blinked. He blinked back. You then turned your head with a mocking, retching, gag.

"Jesus, Big Deal. They teach you ‘Hokey Catchphrases 101’ at Dysfunctional Superhero Camp?"

“Hey,” he jostled your shoulder with his. “You know I’m right.” 

You stood, offering Diego your hand.

“Come on, big boy. Walk me home?” 

Diego acquiesced, coming to stand with a stifled grunt. 

“You’re lucky I heal quickly.” 

With that, the two of you walked down the street. You matched Diego’s stride, mindful of his injuries. As you walked side-by-side, your fingers brushed. Before you could stop yourself or think better of it, you took Diego’s hand. 

When you reached your door, you turned to Diego, fiddling with your keys. 

“Everyone’s distinct, you know? Everyone feels differently. Wears their hearts on their sleeve, so to speak. But with everyone, it’s a different emotion. Some flaunt pride. Some are more passive. Do you want to know what I feel when I see you?” 

Diego glanced down to where your hands were still joined. He brought them up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. 

“I want whatever you’ll tell me. You’re such an open book,” he admitted sarcastically. You rolled your eyes.

“Come on, I’m being serious here. You feel... you feel...” 

At Diego’s urging look, you continued. 

"You feel like warmth. Like I could wrap myself in you and never feel the biting cold of my heart again. And when you're not around? The absence of you is worse than any feeling I could ever exploit. I hate it when you aren't here."

Diego stared at you in silence for a moment, before he spoke, “I really think you should open the door now and let me take you inside.” 

You smiled, pleased that your honest confession had gone over well, the smile morphing into a smirk. 

“As you wish, Big Deal.”

And in the morning? Well, In the morning, you and Diego were still wrapped up in one another. 

You looked into Diego’s swimming, honey-and-tar eyes, tracing your palms down the sides of his jaw and cupping his cheeks as you told him, “You have my whole heart. It’s yours -- crush it, hold it, bury it in whatever you feel ... Do whatever you want with it, I don’t care. Just say you want it-- that you want me.” 

“I want you.” With that, he kissed you deeply.

---

You were a master of emotional manipulation. To do that, you had to have a decent handle on your own emotions. For years, you’d rested on your own laurels of your mastery of self, indulging only in the most passing of forays into others’ feelings for the sake of your own.

So why on Earth were you so fucking nervous? Why couldn’t you get it under control?

Yet, here you were, hand in Diego’s, fingers laced, on your way to Hargreeves Manor to meet his siblings, months after your mutual confessions of want. The two of you had been inseparable. 

Diego clearly sensed your unease, because he turned to you, squeezing your fingers in his own, planting a sweet kiss to your forehead. 

“They’ll like you,” he promised. 

“How can you be so sure?” You worried, trying to keep all of them straight in your mind based on Diego’s stories, anecdotes and descriptions. 

“Because I like you, and they love to annoy me. So they’ll definitely want to buddy up,” he chuckled with a shrug. “Baby, you’ll be fine.”

With that, you found yourself standing in the ornate living room with five nonplussed persons who introduced themselves to you one by one.

As the largest of the group approached you, you beat him to the punch.

“You must be Luther,” you said, pumping your arm in a handshake where his hand comically dwarfed yours. 

Luther blinked. “How did you know?” 

"Easy,” you said, “You look like a 'Number One.’ " 

Luther straightened, obviously pleased. "Important?" he asked.

"Self-important."

This caused the lithe one with the smudged eyeliner who had introduced himself with a wink as, “Klaus, darling,” to howl with laughter. 

“She’s fuckin’ got your number, Luther,” he gasped out between his chuckles. He turned to the seemingly-empty air beside himself and said, “I know! She is fun!” 

The group found itself sitting around the living room on the various, overstuffed furnishings, in a fun little Q-and-A circle, which was only getting easier all the time, as you found the Hargreeves siblings’ obvious bond to be so endearing. The glamorous one you knew to be Allison had queried about your power, curious as to how you and Diego had met. 

Diego had recounted your first meeting to the group, and proffered an explanation of your powers with, "She takes the idea of 'wrapped up in your emotions' and makes it literal."

“And how did this come about?” Klaus queried, gesturing his long fingers between you and Diego. “It’s not like that first meeting was full of warm-and fuzzies.”

“I don’t know … We’ve …  run into each other a few times,” you offer with a shrug and a shy grin. 

Klaus clapped his hands, a large grin adorning his face.

“Oh-ho! I like this. Diego’s girlfriend beats the shit out of him on the regular!” Klaus happily sang to the massive living room. “Or is that how you two, you know, keep it exciting?” he intoned to Diego in what must have been the world’s loudest and worst attempt at a whisper.

“She does not beat the shit out of me,” Diego protested, rolling his eyes at his brother’s swaggering antics.

“Right, right, you beat the shit out of each other. Honestly, I get it. Kinda hot. No judgment from me, you crazy kids,” Klaus smiled and held up his hands in surrender, flashing you the “Hello” and “Goodbye” on his palms. “Diego told me about you the day after you first met. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about it myself when I’m ever-so-alone at night,” he added with a wink. 

All you could do was chuckle. Who couldn’t love Klaus Hargreeves? 

After that, the questioning from the gathered siblings dissipated into a casual little party, with people pairing off to speak in groups of just them, and with drinks from the open bar being passed around amongst the siblings. Even Five. If you were honest, it was strange to see a thirteen-year-old boy drink frozen margaritas. But you’d had to remind yourself that he was actually older than all of you. Honestly, you’d tried not to think about it too hard. 

In between drinks, you found yourself engaged in silly banter with Klaus and Vanya, laughing at Klaus’s stories of eating bagels from dumpsters and his bantering memories with their brother Ben. You responded in kind with stories of your own-- making your elementary school teachers believe they’d had crushes on one another by exploiting their repressed desires, making your classmates piss themselves every Halloween with some prank or another ...

While Vanya was a bit more reserved with her amusement, you’d caught a smile playing at her lips. Klaus outright howled. 

“Oh, you truly belong here, don’t you? Reggie would’ve haaaated you,” he gestured at the stern portrait of their father. “Which means you’re absolutely perfect for our dear Diego,” Klaus proclaimed, lacing his fingers through your own. 

With that, Klaus turned to you with a conspiratorial giggle and hmm'd into your ear, "You know what they say, peaches. 'A scrub is a guy who thinks he's fly.' And if we're being honest, Diego deeeeeeefinitely thinks he's fly." 

You laughed, choking on your sip of margarita. You’d never felt a kind of discordant unity like this one. 

With Diego’s family… with Diego, you felt like you truly did belong.

As you and Diego lay together in bed after the day with his family, he’d asked if you felt comfortable.

“Of course, love.” You pressed a small kiss to the tip of Diego’s nose, nuzzling your own against his. “They were wonderful. You’re wonderful. Thank you for sharing all of this with me.”

Diego gazed lovingly at you, eyes, a deep, endless pit of an eclipse, brimming with golden honey streaks of mischief. 

“I can’t wait to share everything with you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss into your shoulder and settling beside you comfortably. 

Ah. So that’s what that warm, soft, cotton-y, cloud-like feeling you had begun to experience since you’d began your relationship with Diego was ... Comfort. Funny how it blended so seamlessly into the burning, cinnamon-tinged, blooming one you’d come to recognize as his love.

---

Tagging: @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @winters-buck @qveenbvtch @forever-rogue @ali-cide @fleetwoodmactshirt @stellarkyun @zeldasayer @ayeayecaptaingally @nappingtopknot @holographic-carmen @mandaloriane @pascalplease @phoenixhalliwell @white-wolf-buckaroo @melon-eyes @pancakepike @noturjacky @johnc0nstantine @amarachoren @outrebanx @yespolkadotkitty @agentpike @cryptkeepersoul @netflixandzayn @deadpoolcouldshootme @manchuria @flhorah @halerune @spideymanreads @athousandbuckys @imagining-constantly @dovesgrangers @ravenoussss @pyrosag @rzrcrst​ 

[you-cant-spell-subtext-without]

so get this. I was gonna roll around in Tombstone related fluff today - but no, no - this post came across my dash so Now We Are Gonna Discuss the Carnal Consumption of Meat as it appears on That Show Supernatural.  YEAH BUDDIES!

(also my sincere apologies to OP of the inspiration post who innocently tagged it with “lunch date!”  because I am about to go Elsewhere, cursedly).

Let’s all go meat man, after the cut!

This analysis centers primarily on 5x14 Bloody Valentine.  The title of course is a semi-homage to a 3D Slasher Film Jensen starred in circa 2009. 

Which I will be renting soon I guess.  ,[<- parasocial panda GET BACK IN YOUR ENCLOSURE]

Also Its Really Fun that the trailer for Said Cinema ends with “nothing says date movie like a 3-D ride to hell” [are you also thinking of Cas pulling Dean out of hell, or are you normal?]  ***unironically the teaser for 5x14 is -

EXT. SIDEWALK - IN FRONT OF ALICE'S APARTMENT BUILDING

RUSSEL 

First date.

They then eat each other.  Literally they eat each others flesh.  They also do it while dirty talking about it.  SPN IS A SHOW 

ALICE Ugh! I've been so alone. So empty...

RUSSEL I know. Me too.

ALICE I want you, Russel---All of you... inside me...

[they both take bites out of each other, Alice chewing on a piece of Russel's flesh]

****Remember this detail, as it is important.

ANYWAY, it’s truly Cursed that not only are we doing an homage to this 3-D Jensen Horror Date Flick but also this episode is specifically centered on Valentine’s Day.  The day honoring romance and love Now Coopted by Hallmark, everyone, that is the day spn writers chose to introduce us to 

Sir Horseman of THE Biblical Apocalypse Famine. 

Canonically, we are aware that the show is drawing from the book of Revelations in its depiction of the Four Horsemen.  Here’s what it says about Famine -

"When He broke the third seal, I heard the third living creature saying, "Come." I looked, and behold, a black horse; and he who sat on it had a pair of scales in his hand.”

-Revelations 6:5

Famine holds scales (used to weigh out grain in times of food scarcity).  Spn’s depiction is represented as hunger, a bottomless pit of need.  It consumes souls (demon and human alike).  

Cas describes Famine a little more poetically:

CASTIEL 

"And then will come Famine riding on a black steed. He will ride into the land of plenty... "

"... and great will be the Horseman's hunger, for he is hunger. "

"His hunger will seep out and poison the air. "

***Consider a prior season in which we are introduced to the Seven Deadly Sins.  Which are the sins associated with hunger?

Gluttony

and Lust.

***this is also important

Back to the episode.  Case cold open, and we find out that Alice was a Nice Girl.  In that she didnt drink, smoke or

have premarital sex.

***So Alice’s hunger for the sin of Lust caused her to succumb to it; and her demise was presented as Gluttony (literally eating her partner’s flesh). HMM

Famine’s presence is affecting the town, and Cas is not immune.

DEAN 

And when did you start eating?

CASTIEL 

Exactly. My hunger-- it's a clue, actually.

***They lay it out a little more in case you missed it ->

SAM 

I thought famine meant starvation, like as in, you know, food.

CASTIEL 

Yes. Absolutely. But not just food. I mean, everyone seems to be starving for something--Sex, attention, drugs, love...

***this is so important.  but of course because its spn and our textual narrators are generally unreliable (even in a Ben Edlund episode, yes I know)

we get a red herring

CASTIEL 

Right. The cherub made them crave love, and then Famine came, and made them rabid for it.

***but that’s not accurate.  they didn’t get married or become obsessed with each other (remember the cursed coin in 4x08 Wishful Thinking and the unconditional love wish? not what happened here). they had premarital sex.  they did the thing Alice considers wrong, and dark, and sinful.  and then they ate each others’ flesh.

DEAN 

Okay, but what about you? I mean, since when do angels secretly hunger for White Castle?

CASTIEL 

It's my vessel-- Jimmy. His, uh, appetite for red meat has been touched by Famine's effect

***mad lad Jimmy Novak’s hunger is for...red meat?  He is starving for red meat?  You are telling me that the Novaks, red blooded conservative religious midwestern Novaks, ate RED MEAT SO SPARINGLY that Jimmy Novak was LITERALLY starving for it?!?!  No way.  Absolutely no way.  This is a man who was such a religious zealot he STUCK HIS HAND IN BOILING WATER and accepted an angel of the lord into his own body but his secret hunger was for fucking ground beef?

give me a damn break.

to me this is an absolute coverup.  Because Cas’s burger consumption is not related one iota to his vessel Jimmy Novak.

it is a representation of Cas falling.  Cas’s cravings for meat represent his growing (and very much prohibited) feelings for...humanity (Dean Winchester), and they are presenting as Gluttony in the form of his downing more and more copious amounts of red meat.  

SERIOUSLY, consider this - at one point the depiction is so desperately carnal that he is eating raw ground beef with his bare hands. It is fucking uncomfortable.  and it is SUPPOSED to be.  Famine stirs up hunger for the prohibited.  For the sinful. That which we are starving for but do not believe we can ever have, so we lust and we lust and we LUST after it, but should we allow ourselves even just a taste of what we have been ravenously craving, we binge it until we ourselves disappear into the oblivion of our own sinful, dark desires.

Since You Want More Examples of why this cant possibly be hunger for Cheeseburgers and Cheeseburgers alone, Consider Famine’s effect on Dean.  Remember his doctor kink?

**when its revealed that Doctor Corman has succumbed to Famine’s poison by drinking himself to death, Dean - very uncharacteristically by the way - reacts by saying out loud

DEAN Thanks. Crap! I really kind of liked this guy.

***please note that Doctor Corman says the following to Dean in the prior scene they have together -

DR. CORMAN [to Dean]

Agent Marley, you just can't stay away.

****was that a flirtation?

***Also, Dean doesn’t want to go out and chase tail for Valentines Day.   

SAM

I mean, what do you always call it-- Uh, unattached drifter Christmas?

DEAN 

Oh, yeah. Well... be that as it may...I don't know. Guess I'm not feeling it this year.

SAM 

So you're not into bars full of lonely women?

DEAN 

Nah, I guess not. [takes a sip of his beer] Ahh. What?

SAM 

That's when a dog doesn't eat-- That's when you know something's really wrong.

***oh look we are relating things to eating again.  sex/lust to gluttony.  hmmm hmmm hmmm

ANYHOW -  *takes deep breath*

 this is also the Episode Where This Scene Lives

****JACKTING JOICES

oh and speaking of jacting joices, this is also the Dean Notices Cupids Crotch Episode.

frAckles, I am once again asking why you only permit celestial beings to hug you from behi-[gunshots]

but Dean isn’t hungry.  Why? Famine has the explanation, and we get it after Dean immediately runs inside after Cas heads in to complete his portion of their plan barely giving him any time to do so because he misses him that much.

FAMINE 

I disagree. [Famine moves closer to Dean and touches him] Yes. I see. That's one deep, dark nothing you got there, Dean. Can't fill it, can you? Not with food or drink. Not even with sex.

DEAN 

Oh, you're so full of crap.

FAMINE 

Oh, you can smirk and joke and lie to your brother, lie to yourself, but not to me! 

***not Dean making all of those homophobic/homoerotic jokes every time he’s in danger or feeing uncomfortable; not that, that can’t possibly be what Famine is referencing, right?

I can see inside you, Dean. I can see how broken you are, how defeated. 

***not THIS parallel:

AMARA:

You're a mystery. I can see inside your heart. Feel the love you feel, except… It's cloaked in shame

You can't win, and you know it. But you just keep fighting. Just... keep going through the motions. 

***not the motions of performative heterosexuality!!

***Dean’s not hungry because in his heart he truly believes that he can’t actually have what he hungers for.  That Thing Which This Episode Overtly but Also Very Clearly Made Obvious.  It’s an angel riding shotgun [I did Do That and I am Not Sorry], eating a burger in the front seat of the impala.  But, I’ve deviated from the meat of this essay [gunshots] [this time just for the bad joke].

BONUS

there’s Exists another episode in which a man ravenously consumes red meat; eventually succumbing to eating raw beef with his bare hands in the season prior to this one.  

Yes Supernatural the Show That Brought Us Not One But Two Scenes of Persons Carnally Consuming Red Meat With Their Bare Hands.  

This episode is a MOTW - the man in question is a rougaru - a monster that starts out as human but due to some specific genetic disorder (hmmm hmmm hmm crack in THE chassis hmmm hmmm) soon begins to be extremely hungry - “for everything, but eventually long pig.” AKA human flesh. 

Wanna know the kicker?  

Episode’s called Metamorphosis.

(GIF by jackttwist)

I’ll see myself out.

[DOUBLE BONUS for extra credit:

if you really wanna wild out, go watch the scene of Jack the rougaru looking at himself in the mirror in 4x04 - and then meander on over to 7x01 and check out God!stiel looking in the mirror as the leviathans writhe inside him over there. It’s worth the walk.]

***oh and @lilac-void​ im tagging you in this one because in exchange for your KIND creator content nomination I guess I will respond by cursing you with an Honorary tag in this, a Meat Meta.  you’re welcome slash I'm sorry XO [but seriously thank you again for your kindness and appreciation; it really motivated me to sit down and get moving on making more content <3]

[nyxdelanuit]

We All Fall From Heaven

Hello my little constellations! Here is the third chapter of mine and @mammonrightsYandere House of Lamentation series c: Please be aware of the tags, and enjoy! I also will not be adding my usual tag list to this due to the themes involved, so please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters!

MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: YANDERE THEMES, DUBCON/NONCON, Abusive/Obsessive Relationships, Branding/Marking, senpai/kouhai kink, Anal, uHH,,tails... and of course, SMUT ABOUND~ Please be sure to mind the tags <3

It was easy to convince Lucifer to let you stay home that day, your throat, raw from crying, conveying a sickness you didn’t have even through the shut door. You waited until all noise faded away, longer still until you were sure all the brothers were gone for the day. Only then you changed into loose sweats, comfy clothes for a day of wallowing in bed. You considered using any of the presents Asmo left in your room, but the thought churned your stomach. Maybe another day. Maybe when your head was a little more clear.

 Food you could handle. You didn't bother with making yourself presentable, merely padding through the halls on bare feet. The kitchen was only next door, after all. It still took you a bit of time to recognize what foods were okay for you to eat, avoiding Beel's food and any that wasn't… fit for human consumption. The names still threw you off a bit, but it tasted close enough to what you were familiar with that you could stomach it. You had to, at least for now.

 You were so caught up in searching for food so that you could lock yourself away for the day, that you didn’t notice another presence in the kitchen. Turning around with arm-fulls of food, you ran into another sweat-clad figure. Both you and Levi jumped back, nervous and flushed, for entirely different reasons.

"Oh… I was coming here to grab some of those snacks." Levi looked away nervously, and you were tempted to just thrust all the food into his hands and run back into your room. "You're skipping today, right? Come watch this new anime I found with me! T-then we can share the snacks…" Your every cell was yelling, begging at you to run. But this was Levi, he was just as touch-averse as you were now, he just wanted someone to share his hobbies with. Plus, what better way to distract you from all the problems rattling around in your head than escaping into some fantasy world, where things were predictable and made sense.

 So with that, you followed Levi to his room, the swirling blue bringing a sense of calm you hadn’t felt in days. You weren’t sure you even felt it now, but the ambiance sure helped you pretend. It was even… comfortable, lounging on Levi’s couch as the two of you bickered about whether the protagonist was good or cheesy. You could almost forget. At least Levi could be your safe haven.

 Your eyes lit up when you remembered that he was the third brother, above both Belphie and Asmo. If you told him, would he protect you? He was stronger, after all. Maybe you could make an actual pact with him. If he believed you at all. You fidgeted as you thought about it, not noticing the shrinking space between you and Levi.

 Static passed between you as your fingers touched his, both of you pulling away. Levi yelped, and you couldn’t help but chuckle nervously. Even so, you put your had back where it was and focused on the show while Levi… red-faced and not looking at you or even the show, slowly encompassed your hand with his own. There was something so sweet, so innocent about it that set your heart thundering.

 The credits rolled on the last episode. Your hand was still nestled in Levi’s carefully, kind of clammy grip. His nervousness helped ground you, and you couldn’t help but feel butterflies in your stomach every time his eyes drifted to yours only to look away and blush.

 “Levi… the show’s over.” You didn’t really want to leave, but if you didn’t go now, the rest of the brothers would get home before you could lock yourself in your room. “I should go, for now.”

 “W-wait!” Levi jumped up from his spot on the couch, offering you a hand. “Let me walk you to your room?” You chuckled and took his hand, letting him help you up.

 “I’d like that.”

 You walked in silence, Levi's grip on your hand feather-light. He wanted to be sure you could pull away if you wanted to; in fact, he almost seemed certain that you would. He stopped at your door, staring at your intertwined hands.

 “D-do you want to skip tomorrow too? We could cosplay together… I found a few premade outfits on Akuzon I could have ready for you.” He rubbed his neck nervously until you nodded. One more day locked away in the sanctuary of Levi’s room felt just like what your heavy heart needed. With a furious blush, Levi placed a chaste peck on your lips and slithered away, leaving you blinking at his quickly moving back.

 For once, you laid in bed with a smile on your face. You couldn’t help but trace your lip lightly, daydreaming of what tomorrow would bring.

 Lucifer was not as accommodating the next morning, and you were glad you passed out dressed in your comfy outfit from the day before. He forced you down for breakfast at the very least, and you felt the tension in the air as Asmo and Belphie abandoned their usual seats to place themselves on either side of you. One hand fell to your hip, one to your thigh, and you could feel your breath catch.

 Across the table, Levi caught your eye. The look in his eye was indecipherable, but you hoped that he saw your plight. You shuffled the food around your plate, your appetite suddenly gone, pulling worried and hungry stares from Beel. He accepted the plate when you slid it over to him, but the look on his face was akin to a kicked puppy.

 Breakfast passed with a quiet tension as Levi’s eyes hardened on his brothers, the grip on his silverware turning his knuckles white. As soon as his food was clear, Levi pushed away from the table. He grabbed your arm, dragging you from your seat and the grips of the hands on you.

 "I'll make sure the normie stays in bed today, so she feels better tomorrow." Lucifer rolled his eyes at Levi's tantrum but nodded.

 “It is important that they stay healthy and do not miss too many classes. Please see that you do.”

 You thought that maybe Levi had meant it when he said he’d keep you in bed by the way he stomped out of your room after breakfast, but after an hour or so, a timid knock sounded from your door. Levi stood at the threshold, looking nervous.

 "You ready?" He couldn't meet your eyes, but you timidly reached for his hand, and he didn't pull away. The two of you walked the halls much like you had the night before, hand-in-hand and bashful. "I got a couple different ones for you to try on… I have a matching one for each cosplay… like a c-couple's cosplay." You thought you had seen the full range of red that Levi could display, but it seemed as if you had been wrong with how his face burned. You nodded, escaping to his bathroom to try the first one on. "I-I'll change out here!" He called after you.

 You examined yourself in the mirror as much as you could. All things considered, it could have been worse. All your bits were properly covered, and although you couldn't see too well from the waist-down, it didn't seem like the skirt was too short.

 You had barely stepped out of the bathroom when Levi suddenly appeared in front of you. He seemed frozen in time, taking in your figure with an ever-reddening face. You went to reach for him, but he crushed you to his chest, kissing you fervently. He pulled away panting. “I’m sorry… you just look too cute.” He allowed himself a touch to your cheek before he pulled away, but your hands tangled in his shirt. “P-please. I don’t know if I can control myself,” He covered his face with his hands as he whined, trying to distance himself from you.

 He was giving you a chance to go. To run, but you were still here, clinging to him. Why were you still here?

  He peeked through his fingers to see you standing before him, not even a step where he left you. His eyes roamed your figure like he was seeing you for the first time, stopping where your hem ended against your thigh. Your breath hitched as he took in the delicate lines of Belphie’s mark peeking out from the delicate fabric. Horror raced through your veins as you saw the red fade from his face only to be replaced by the look he sported during breakfast.

 Jealousy

 You took a step back as he approached, and another until your back hit the tank's glass wall. His arms caged you in, and he gave a hollow laugh.

 “I should be excited, it’s my first time actually kabedoning anyone, but for some reason I’m not happy about it.” You barely registered his shift, unable to tear yourself away from the look in his eyes. His tail wrapped around your bare thigh, tightening over Belphie’s mark before continuing its ascent. His eyes widened as the tip of his tail brushed over Asmo’s mark.

 "It's not fair," he whined, closing in on you. "I understood! You weren't going to be my Henry, but you were supposed to be my player two." The warmth of Levi's tail trailed over your panties, mixing with the icy chill of his eyes and sending a shiver through you. "Still you let them touch you, take you from me, it's not fair."

“L-Levi, I didn’t ask for this.” You trembled under his gaze.

 "Taking their older brother's things…" He tilted your head up with a firm grip on your chin. "I'm going to show you that you're mine." His tail slipped under your panties to rub against the slick, slowly accumulating, the tip of his tail curling gently around your clit as he kissed you.

 It was different from the kiss from last night, more malicious, but your head was full of soft, nervous Levi. You couldn’t help but give in as he bit at your lip, letting his tongue consume the moans falling from your mouth. His tail kept moving, eventually sliding into your heat with a lewd sound. You were filled so suddenly that you had a hard time keeping yourself upright, your legs shaking underneath you.

 Levi chuckled mirthlessly, grabbing at your arms to keep you from tumbling to a heap on the floor as his tail writhed within you. "Uwaah! It's just like in those H-games. Keep showing me that face." He quickly slid the fabric of your outfit under your chest, wasting no time in propping you against the cool wall so he could sink his fingers into each breast, his face joining soon after.

 It seemed the further he indulged himself, the more his jealousy faded. He might not have been the first to have you, but he at least got to have you like this, trembling as he smothered himself in your tits. He gave one nipple a gentle lick, testing the water as you squirmed, the mild pleasure mixing with the overpowering passion of his tail and coalescing in a rising heat in your stomach.

“I’m not going to stop until you make that face." He chuckled, enveloping a nipple with an amateur suck, too harsh and painful, but your body responded all the same. The sharp cry that left your mouth only pushed him further as he rolled and pinched the others in his fingers. The pain drug you further to your peak, and with a last thrust of his tail, you came.

 Levi watched you the whole time, enraptured as his tail worked faster to prolong your release. Your mouth fell open as your cries echoed through the room, and you could feel drool spilling out the side as he brought you to the edge over over-stimulation. Levi followed the trail from your chin to your lips with his tongue, giggling as he covered your mouth with his own.

 "So good, what a good kouhai I have." He picked you up easily, keeping his tail planted inside you as he walked the two of you over to the couch. The same one you spent the day on yesterday, watching anime and holding hands like first-crushes. He maneuvered your limp body over the arm of the couch, your bare breasts roughly rubbing against the coarse fabric. He flipped the skirt of the cosplay over your ass, clearly enjoying the sight of your tail-filled pussy covered by the wet fabric of your panties. You keened as he slowly removed his tail, enjoying the way you squirmed at the sensation.

 Once it was fully removed from you, he used his tail to rip your panties from your body, baring you to his sight. You weren't sure what embarrassed you more, the knowledge that sweet, nervous Levi was staring at your bare core or the obscene noises coming from the demon behind you. He wasted no time in pulling himself from his pants, palming himself with quick strokes before plunging into you. His tail had prepped you well, only the pleasure of being filled consumed you, causing you to arch off the couch.

 Levi was clearly inexperienced, his thrusts much too quick for your liking, but your body still hadn’t recovered. Bliss flowed through your veins unbidden, and you tried desperately to hide your reaction in the cushions. Levi didn’t seem to mind, gripping your hip and pushing down on the base of your spine to keep you pinned.

 “They got you first, used you like some toy, but I wonder if they got here too?” Levi’s obsessed voice drifted through your ears, but you were unable to decipher their meaning until you felt the tip of his tail trailing above your slit, circling the tight ring of muscle.

 “Levi, please-”You tried to plead with him, but before you could finish your sentence, his tail was breaching your ass.

 “Begging for me already? You really are the perfect little kouhai.” He ignored your struggling as he pumped his tail in and out of you, going further with each pass.

 "Please, it hurts, Levi!" You cried out. Levi chuckled, realizing his guess was correct: You hadn't been taken there, not yet.

 "Call me your senpai, and I might listen to you." He mocked, "But since I'm such a nice senpai, I'll help distract you from the pain until you get used to it. The hand on your spine heated, and you tensed for the pain you knew was coming.

 It seemed even worse this time, the pain traveling through your spine and spreading to every nerve throughout your body. You faintly recognized the moans drifting through the air as Levi's as your body tightened and locked up against the pain.

 Marked, again.

 At least Levi was true to his word, once the burn subsided, all you could feel was the bursting pleasure of Levi’s tail rubbing the thin tissue separating it from his cock pistoning in your heat. It was overpowering, feeling both at once. Each thrust made you more sensitive, and you could feel your mind start to fade as his dick and tail worked in tandem.

 “S-Senpai, please.” You had finally broken, bending to Levi’s will. Anything to get you just a little further, to let this pleasure finally crest.

 “Such a good little kouhai, cum for me.” He purred in your ear, spurred on by your words. He thrust into you mindlessly, losing himself in the tightening in your cunt. With a press to the still tender skin of your lower back, you came, clenching so sweetly around Levi’s dick that he had no choice but to follow you over the crest.

 He panted on top of you for what seemed to be hours. “My heart is beating so fast. You’re so cute like this, begging for me.” He talked about you like you were one of his idols, cooing over your every reaction. You felt exhausted, your limbs not responding to your urge to make them move. Levi seemed to prefer this, posing you on his lap when he plopped onto the couch as if nothing had happened. He fixed your hair and outfit with tender fingers, wiping your face until he deemed you satisfactory. Your stomach turned as he fidgeted with his DDD, opening the camera to snap a few pictures of the two of you in your cosplays.

 You only hoped that no one noticed the fucked out look on your face, and that the cum you felt seeping onto your thighs wasn’t visible.

taglist: @marvel-imagines-yes-please @johannakhalafalla

[yeojaa]

called a thousand times.

prompt:  “did you miss me enough to drink or did you drink enough to miss me?”   (orig.)

this drabble is more an exercise in catharsis and serves as my first (!!!) jin piece.  i dedicate this to my loves @jinsearthh​ and @seokjinssi​ lmao.  enjoy!

pairing.  ksj x reader.  rating.  general.  tags.  angst.  but like, not really terrible angst.  just semi-bad angst.  wc.  1.8k.

The call comes in the dead of night while you’re curled up in linen sheets and comfortably drooling into an unbelievably worn white plush.  It buzzes loudly in your ears, vibrating obnoxiously against your pillow.  Sleeping with your phone in bed is a bad habit you’ve never really been able to break.  

You’re barely awake - caught in that strange in-between land of lucidity - when you hazard a glance at the time and number.  2:47 AM.  Far too late for you to be receiving calls - especially from contact you don’t have saved. 

“Hello?”

“Hi.”  It’s a voice you’d never expected to hear.  A voice you haven’t heard in forever, clear as bells through the phone line.  “It’s Jin.”

You’re wide awake now. 

“Hello?”  It’s terribly jarring.  It jolts you straight up in the bed that hasn’t felt his warmth in close to three years, every notch of your spine electrified by the simple sound.  It rings, bouncing around in your ears.  

You should reply.  You don’t know how.  

“Are you there?”  Uncertainty and something else - something heavy and medicinal - coats syllables and turns them into molasses.  It drips off each vowel, rounding each consonant.  Your entire world feels like it’s spinning, tilted on its axis by this strange happening. 

“Jin?”  It doesn’t sound how it should - wishful and more than a little surprised.  It trips heavy off your tongue, splitting the darkness with the radiance of your hope.  

He laughs on the other end.  You realise now why he sounds different, the familiar squeak of his amusement dulled by liquor.  He’s drunk or at least, on his way to it.  The telltale signs are there:  the faintest hiccough after every second inhale, the vaguely nasally first syllable, the dulling of his rain-streaked laughter. 

“It’s me,”  he confirms, far more comfortable than he should be.  The relief practically radiates through the phone, further severing the strings that bid you back to bed.  “I didn’t know if you’d pick up or if you even had the same number still.”

At least he’s honest, you think. 

The conversation is carried on like there’s nothing at all strange, as if he - Kim Seokjin - hasn’t just called up his ex-girlfriend at quarter to three in the morning. 

“How are you?  Did I wake you up?”

You know your silence is rude.  It’s stifling in a way that even he can’t combat, sitting stony between you two as you try to wrap your mind around the current situation.  

“Hello?”  He repeats, vaguely uncertain but not otherwise bothered.  That bothers you. 

“Why did you call?”  You can’t help the question.  It pierces the quiet before you can catch it, disappearing into the night like a thief.  It takes with it all of your turmoil, tucking years of hurt in its pockets to wear on its sleeves. 

That seems to catch him off guard.  He inhales once - a sharp thing, right through his front teeth.  

“Ah, yeah.  I—“  You wonder whether he’s even given this any thought or if he’s just been driven to it by the beguiling hand of liquor.  You wouldn’t put it past him, though he’s never been one to drink himself into bad ideas.  He was smarter than that. 

He pauses.  It’s long, drawn out, punctuated by city sounds you assume come from 27 floors below his apartment.  They’re muffled and unrecognisable, the din of Yongsan-gu too faraway.  

“I… was thinking of you.” 

There’s a strange confidence to his response, a self-assured calm that feels like moments before a storm.  It eases uncertainty over your limbs, still wrought with sleep and sluggish.  He shouldn’t sound this way after so long, as if he’d never left.  A part of it feels nice, warm and welcomed into the cavity behind your ribs, tucked neatly alongside the organ that stutters because of him;  the other feels like a knife to the heart, slotted right between the vulnerable spaces you’d shown him.

You echo him in uncertainty.  “Thinking of me?”  

“I wanted to apologise.”

Now that’s the last thing you’d expected.  

“Apologise for what?”  Not that there aren’t so many things Jin owes you - so many I’m sorrys that would never make up for the rivers you’d wept, the nights you hadn’t slept.  

“How I left things.  How we left things.”  Something not quite a laugh comes, dresses his words up prettily like a sinner in his Sunday best, eager to learn and repent and do better.  “I know I can’t undo the past but I’m sorry for the ways I hurt you.”

It’s so vague even you aren’t sure what he’s referring to.  The brief but blinding relationship you’d had with him?  The heartbreaking, determined way in which he’d broken up with you?  The months thereafter when he’d still warmed your bed, where the strange in-between was no longer between awake and dreams, but love and not-love?  The pieces he’d left you to pick up yourself when he’d disappeared, seemingly out of the blue? 

“I still think about you a lot.  I miss you.  I wanted to make it right.”  When he backtracks, you realise he’s far smarter than you give him credit for.  “—Try to make it right, that is.”

“Why?”  You should demand more.  You know you should.  Yet this is the only thing that comes, dripping like the tears that line your lashes, glittering jewels that you’d trade for even an ounce of understanding. 

He hesitates.  There’s a clinking glass, ice, and then a thick swallow you can hear quite clearly.  “Why?  Why what?”

“Why did you leave?”  You’re really trying - holding onto composure with a white-knuckled grip that leaves your hands bleeding - but it’s futile.  The grief is too much - a thousand pound weight that splits the frayed edge of your composure in a clean line.  “Things were…”  Weird, strange, undoubtedly a bad idea, as messing with your ex tended to be.  “Things were okay, I thought.  And then out of nowhere, you were gone.  You stopped calling.”

For three long weeks, you’d jolted awake at 3 AM, waiting for the dedicated ringtone to alert you of his call.  It never came.  You’d waited even longer after that, though you’d learnt to turn your phone to silent.

Months turned to years and then one day, nearly four months later - there he was, displayed as a missed call at just after midnight.

You’d blocked him then, for your own sanity.  And then another six months after that, you’d unblocked him.  A moment of weakness you’d all but forgotten about until now.  You’d figured it wouldn’t matter - that there was no way he’d contact you again.  So much time had passed and he was Kim Seokjin;  you were nothing but a small blip on his radar - a tiny ink splatter on the story of his life.

“You blocked me.”  Or not.  

You tuck this knowledge - his knowledge - away into the manila folder you keep stored away in a dusty cabinet, covered in yellow tape that reads Do Not Open.

“Before that.  Three years ago.”  

“I honestly… don’t remember.”  The answer stings, candour a struck match to your already miserable nerves.  “It was bad timing, I think.  We were on the phone one night.  I was heading back from filming and I just remember being so mad.”  That doesn’t surprise you.  Jin’s temper rages like a wildfire before burning out like a match.  Intense but short-lived.  “You were having a bad day, too.  You’d started your new job and you were stressed out about something not working.”

You recall it clearly - can call to mind exactly what brief you’d been working and how that night had felt awful.  You’d hardly slept, almost pushed to tears by the frustration you’d felt.  For the life of you, though, you can’t recall an argument.  You’d been happy to hear from him - found solace in the sound of his voice, even as you’d worked through pages that made you want to tear your hair out. 

“I remember you were dismissive and it just…”  You imagine he shrugs, those impossibly wide shoulders of his rolling beneath something soft and sleep-appropriate.  His brow’s probably knit, little dent forming between them as always happens when he’s faced with discomfort.  “I didn’t want to deal with it.”

It’s an honest answer, which you’re grateful for.  It sheds light where there was one.

But it also hurts far more than you’d expected, stirring to life an ugly aching sob in your chest.  One night.  One night was all it’d taken.  The realisation is sobering in its pain.

“And… now you want to apologise for that?”  It doesn’t make sense.  Not to you, at least, who holds three long years of unrequited love for a man who’d thrown you away over nothing.

“I want to apologise for a lot of stuff.”  Things he doesn’t seem ready to articulate just yet, either due to his inebriation or contrition.  “I didn’t think you’d pick up, so I’m kind of still working through it in my head.”  You can hear his smile, turned playful by alcohol.

It’s like waging war when you speak - your heart against your head.  “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“But… I miss you.” 

I miss you too, you almost say.  

“Did you miss me enough to drink or did you drink enough to miss me?”  Comes hushed instead.

Jin isn’t ready for the conversation.  You know he isn’t - can tell by how he inhales shakily, knocks back another drink that rattles ice noisily.  “That’s not fair.”

“You’re not fair,”  you return in a voice that’s meant to be scathing but seems to have found itself at the bottom of his glass, wet and diluted.  “You’re calling me because you feel bad and for whatever reason, you think I’m going to make that go away.”  

He’s not wrong - you would, in a heartbeat.  But there’s a very big difference between would and should and you’re doing your best to learn what that is, even if it hurts.  

“What do you think’s going to happen after I forgive you?  Are we just going to go back to our lives like nothing happened?”

“If you want.”

You laugh, a sound that’s brutalised by your own sadness and barely sounds like anything at all.  “And what if I don’t want that?  What if I want you in my life?”  

Another pause, another drink.  There’s a part of you that worries for him.  

“You know that’s not an option.  Not right now.  We’ve got so much happening right with our comeback and then enlistment and…”  It’s a cop out.  You can see it from a mile away, a red flag raised to mock you as Jin speaks.  “I can’t give you what you want.”

“Then neither can I.”

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice​​ @youwannabelostandnotbefound​​

[miraculouscontent]

Ask Explo--

...you know what, you’re right. Name change effective immediately.

Askplosion #10:

(unrelated to everything by the way but I DEMAND THE ANON WHO MENTIONED “REMARRIED EMPRESS” A WHILE BACK COME FORTH AND ANSWER FOR THEIR CRIMES. IT’S SO GOOD BUT IT’S UNFINISHED AND I’M HOOKED, HOW DARE YOU)

Asks responding to previous posts:

It’s okay! I figured that was what it was but it’s been so loooong.

Ah, wow.

Um, that’s definitely not a part 2; I think that’s more like a four-parter/five-parter or something.

Sorry! No can do!

That’s totally fair!

I think the reason I so quickly agreed with it is like--

I’ve been watching the Inuyasha sequel and it’s not like I don’t think the narrative’s apparent punching bag Moroha (who is fourteen years old) shouldn’t be punished when she does something wrong/sneaky/manipulative, but they punish her as if she’s Miroku (who was eighteen years old).

Basically, I want the punishment to take the age into account, or at least only affect Marinette on a more personal level and not be “Heart Hunter” where they take totally understandable feelings of heartache (remember, it wouldn’t have mattered which miraculous she took because Hawk Moth got the Miracle Box and Fu regardless; even beyond her emotions, I feel like she chose the best option available to her considering which temps she knew the location of) and then punish her for them by memory wiping Fu and taking away all of her temps and giving Hawk Moth the grimoire translation.

Yes!! I really wanted to respond to this one, thank you! (It’s this one and then there was another one talking about Luka and Adrien, then talked to me about how I refer to Luka as “soft” but not in a bad way; I unfortunately don’t remember the whole thing.)

Ahaha, and yeah, I feel you. Anti-salters are a very strange conundrum I still haven’t figured out; like, I get not liking salt, but...

I mean, when I don’t like certain content, I just blacklist it. If I end up seeing it anyway due to cross-tagging or a lack of tagging, then I just blacklist the person themself. You won’t see me going after people for that very reason; I only see what people send/ask me if it’s content I don’t like.

I’m glad you’ve found some peace in this blog! Hopefully it continues to be that way for you in the future!

(and yay, a fellow INTJ!!)

New Asks:

There are female writers? ;P I just assumed they were all locked in a closet until the male ones were like, “okay, pretend to help us here, we need one female writer to claim girl power.”

As for Ladybug all like, “Cute, isn’t she?” I think it was rhetorical (she could also be messing with him but “Glaciator” tells us that she didn’t know he crushed on her so who knows). The writers do this thing where Marinette is all panic-y and occasionally self-conscious as herself, but then as Ladybug, she suddenly gets a bit of an ego. I think it’s meant to be there in order to make Chat Noir look less... idk, “obnoxious” when he starts boosting his own ego; trying to balance the two by giving them both big heads, so to speak.

Honestly, I feel like Adrien needs less screen time. :|

Even when he’s not on-screen, characters are usually talking about him, or you see his face in Marinette’s room/somewhere in Paris. I’m become so jaded by the guy that I don’t even think it’d matter if they remade the series and gave it a “totally good and interesting Adrien.” That’s how badly the show has made him out for me; “Adrien Agreste” the character is just... sigh, I’m so done with him.

And yeah, this whole idea about, “Marinette is [x], we need more AAAAAADRIEN!” comes off really bad, lol, especially when Adrien has very little going for him.

(this ask ends off like there should be a part 2 but there isn’t one in my inbox, so sorry if there’s meant to be something else!)

The exact lyrics according to the wiki:

My wish for a cat who's in love, with our own Ladybug. Is that he'll get what he's always wanted! She doesn't know she loves him, only sees Adrien, But Christmas miracles always happen!

Yeah, especially nowadays, those lines bothers me. Not only does it imply “true selves,” but that it’s Chat who should be getting what he always wanted and Ladybug is the one with a problem.

Like, excuse me?

Probably Stormy Weather, even in the first episode. Ladybug and Chat Noir couldn’t even touch her until they arrived on top of the TV station.

+ With all those effects and shots, it made it feel more action-y than typical episodes.

Marinette, Aurore, Luka, Anarka, Jagged...

basically any name that I haven’t really heard before (”Luka” makes me think of Vocaloid but the Luka there was female), or a name that relates a lot to the character (like “Aurore” for “aurora” since she loves weather things).

dfjbghfkdgfdgnjfdg this anon really like, “I NEED ANSWERS!!!”

It’s as if these characters hit 18 or something and just grow overnight, I swear. I’m hypothetically fine with some more variety in character height (it’s not like the show tries to be realistic, after all), but maybe don’t give us official heights if they’re gonna be this weird/inaccurate.

Especially when they change it just for the sake of a shot anyway. If you watch “Simon Says” when Ladybug and Adrien stand next to each other while looking at the picture of Adrien’s mother, the very next close-up has an obvious difference in their heights from what you just saw.

They’re 3D models!!! This shouldn’t happen!

I... honestly never thought of the “less threatening” thing! Dang!

And yeah, Marinette isn’t helpless or incompetent, but because of the Adrien crush, it makes her that way at times since she’s always falling on him and--

...ugh, actually, yeah, don’t wanna think about those implications. Hard pass.

Gross.

I’m not familiar with that one, though Astruc deletes his tweets all the time (there was one tweet where he confirmed that Luka was poor and it only exists in screenshots now because it didn’t get archived and he deleted it almost like he realized that he was pointing out the blatant classism in the show, oops).

Yeah though, I haven’t seen anything like what you’re describing. Sorry!

It’s okay! Sorry for having you clarify but him choosing and Marinette deciding to never give it back are very different things.

I don’t recall Chat Noir having much purpose in the final fight (in terms of both contributing and actual fighting; I know Cataclysm broke the object to release the akuma but was it needed?) so Marinette might either go cat-less or get a temp. Plagg could also be helpful in his own right because he’s small and blends in with the night, so he could hypothetically sneak up on the bad guy.

Afterwards, there’d need to be a new cat, but Adrien would also have to reconsider his actions and really think about what happened. I could also see Plagg going to Adrien’s house, half to apologize for giving the idea to Adrien that Adrien leave without telling Ladybug, but also half to call him out for giving up without consulting anyone. Adrien is a lot of conflicting things (see Adrien’s passivity compared to Chat Noir’s recklessness) so he’d have to find a middle ground within himself.

Marinette might carry Plagg around in her purse for a while and let Plagg have a say in who he goes to. Plagg might grieve for a bit over not having Adrien around (even if Adrien was flawed, Plagg didn’t ask for any of this so Marinette is doing her best here).

O-oh.

That’s always the rough patch with “endgame ships.”  Once it’s obvious to the audience that they’re endgame, no more effort needs to be put into them.

The other thing too is how Kagami, for example, is friends with Marinette. Even once Adrimi sinks, she’ll presumably stay friends with her. Luka, meanwhile, is Juleka’s brother.

They have lives outside of their love interests. Adrien is so into Ladybug that he doesn’t have that; I mean, Nino is Adrien’s best friend like once in a blue moon.

The entire class is just watching an episode and then calling on raised hands to answer what was wrong with what they just watched.

“Everything?”

“I mean, yes, but I’m sorry, you have to be more specific to get credit.”

I think Aeon herself is fine. It’s mostly just her transformed and that transformed name that I have a problem with (she doesn’t even look uncanny so I don’t get it). I heard there was something wrong with the name “Aeon” but searching the name doesn’t give me anything I would qualify as such so I have no idea. I just wish she was given a little less “I’m programmed to--” (makes her seem less sentient) and more “[anything that doesn’t have to do with pushing the love square]” because I feel like they might’ve done the latter to make her more “likable”? I think fans of anything usually like the “matchmaker” character provided it’s for a ship they like. Also strange that they make her a robot but Max and Markov don’t extensively interact with her, but that’s a nitpick and not a criticism of her character.

...I’m rambling, my bad lol.

(Ohhh, she was supposed to be a mummy? Like, foreshadowing her “dying”?? That went right over my head but I guess that’d be where the name Uncanny Valley came from? No clue.)

Best case scenario is probably the middle or the end of Season 4.

And yeah, it really doesn’t matter to me what they do with the love square. Marinette had gone through too much suffering and the show goes out of its way to show how much stress Marinette is being put under (and also keeping Luka away during episodes like “Gamer 2.0″ even when it makes sense for them to be there, as if trying to make sure Marinette doesn’t have enough moments with him to forget Adrien).

Like, ah, yes, I totally believe that Marinette is in a position where she can make reasonable decisions about her love life while all circles of her life are on fire.

If the Sonic movie of all things can have an interracial couple, there’s no reason why this show can’t, just saying.

And, even with Marinette, she’s white-passing (according to what basically everyone says, I’m really awful about recognizing race so this isn’t my field; I wasn’t aware that Ondine was Asian, for example).

Does Nadja count? Manon’s dark-skinned (I’m still not over the fact that all the kids in this show are dark-skinned; it’s not like it’s a problem from a representation standpoint - though all the kids are also all generically bratty/whiny so there’s that - but the percentages in this show are weird) while Nadja is really light-skinned, meaning either a dark-skinned husband or Manon is adopted.

Though I guess the problem then is that we don’t know, so there’s no established couple there.

Non-Miraculous Asks:

w-who gave you the right to say such things????

Uhhhh, that might be too broad of a question, I’m sorry!

I know this isn’t satisfactory, but I will say that my favorite genre is Fantasy/Romance (it’s why I adore Red Shoes so much; by the way, an anon asked for my opinion on that a while back and I will get to it! I’d need to watch it again to get screenshots) and my least favorite is probably Tragedy/Horror.

I don’t think I’ve watched enough to really be able to say? I’ve kind of been all over but I’ve never fully gone through any of them outside of Miraculous. I’ve seen bits of Sailor Moon, Tokyo Mew Mew, Star VS the Forces of Evil (don’t know if that counts), and I meant to watch Yuki Yuna is a Hero but never got around to it. I saw the entirety of Puella Magi Madoka Magica but you guys know how I feel about that one.

Maybe Cardcaptor Sakura by default then? It was definitely not perfect but I liked some of the character dynamics (I also have a clipcut of it - basically where I go through a series/movie and cut out parts I don’t like so it’s only good stuff - so I’m cheating a little) and the male love interest was a tsundere type that I actually ended up liking, which is really rare.

!!! That sounds sweet~ I know Sailor Moon is popular so I’ll definitely take your word for it on that one.

I would also accept a “reincarnated”/”destined lovers” trope if maybe the ship themselves are the one who set it up in the first place. I have a Lukanette AU, for example, where they basically got together and then prayed to the shrine of the renewal god that they’d “always be together,” which ended up allowing them to reincarnate over and over (as if they set up their own soulmate AU ;P) and continuously find each other.

Though I guess that’s not technically a “meant to be trope,” but still, it’s a form of it but where it was totally consensual on both sides.

Also, I finally thought of a show that ended with the ship I wanted: Gargoyles. I didn’t see the entire series, mind you, but I saw most of it and Goliath and Elisa were just... quality, I adored them.

+ With Beauty and the Beast being my favorite Disney movie, they fit right in with my tastes.

I forget that AangToph (I think the “official” name for the ship is Taang, but don’t quote me on that) exists sometimes, maybe because I’ve never shipped Aang with anyone; I’ve got no problems with the ship though.

Ugh, and this is what I mean when I talk about people who set up these reasons behind people shipping something based on what they saw a few people do. It’s like, “you only ship Adrimi/Lukanette to spite Adrienette!!”

Meanwhile, me having shipped all three at one point and then dropped off the love square.

Also, me shipping Zutara has nothing to do with it being dark/edgy because I’ve never seen it that way (intriguing, sure but dark and edgy? lol) and also avoid dark/edgy ships like the plague.

I still laugh at people who are like, “you can’t ship it because it’s not endgaaaaame!” as if shows can dictate how and why I enjoy something. Like sure, if you want to let a show/movie spoonfeed you how you’re supposed to feel, then by all means, go ahead.

I suppose people may be theoretically happier that way, but it doesn’t make for an analytic mind.

I legitimately thought that “AssClass” must’ve been the actual name for something until it registered with me what it actually meant.

And eh, I guess it depends on the comparison and how accurate the comparison actually is? Like, comparing Puella Magic Madoka Magica to Miraculous... they’re not really close at all, but comparing... idk, Bunnyx to Homura or the concept behind “backfiring wishes”... maybe?

-

(note that the rest of this post is more Puella Magi Madoka Magica salt so you can stop reading here if you’re not interested in that; I’m not sure if this is all the same anon but I don’t mind letting people vent so I let them go off~)

why can’t we just have nice things

I agree, and I give a little eyeroll every time it’s like, “oh, this person had [miraculous]”

+ even just in general, I feel weird about any show that mentions/implies that real world famous people are [x] or [y] in their show. It breaks my immersion; real world locations are one thing but when it’s specific people (unless they’re made up characters like Santa Claus) or games just--break me.

I also don’t know what to think when there aren’t magical boys but you have these magical girls in this frilly outfits/skirts. The demographic is girls so I presume the reason must be like, “you can look pretty and still beat people up” (;P) but having so many magical girl shows without a hint of a magical boy makes me suspicious that it’s for fanservice. Sailor Moon has Tuxedo Mask but I also don’t know what that guy did outside of the meme of him doing nothing so I’ve got no clue.

(edit: I should correct myself that I’m not talking about Sailor Moon specifically; I don’t know magical girls that well, though I do know there are ones clearly intended for fanservice (you could say that for anything, to be fair, but still). It’s just that I see things like super short skirts or very “questionable” shots and I’m just like, “hm”)

Hmmm, good question. I feel like there has to be a lot but I’m also the type who doesn’t watch a lot of TV lol. I’m just familiar with cliches and tropes and such.

The reason I try not to use “ism”s of any kind is mostly because it’s too broad. Like, you know how the English language only has one way of saying, “I love you,” but other languages like Spanish have multiple?

It’s like that, and sometimes I think it’s too easy to throw those words out there. A “small” (possibly completely unintentional/misunderstood) offense is sexism, and then a “large” offense is called the exact same thing. I’d rather go into why something is sexist than just call it that, y’know? The only exception I make is “classism” because I feel like that’s not as... I dunno, divisive?

Anyway, for that same reason, I can’t answer firmly that, “Madoka Magica is sexist.” I will however say that it makes me uncomfortable with how the show makes out the girls being emotional because they’re young and female and then proceeds to make their life a living hell before they’re old enough to properly answer to it (I know that’s the point but that kind of makes it worse?). It doesn’t help with how all the girls have different personalities, so it’s not like you have only “crybaby girls” who are being taken advantage of; it’s basically like... all girls.

Not helped is the fact that their soul gem not only deteriorates naturally, but it can also do so faster if the girl falls into despair, which then turns them into a monster (and I know it’s kind of like an akuma thing, but the fact that it’s only girls is... I dunno, it comes off wrong?). It seems cheap that the soul gem deteriorates no matter what so it constantly needs fed even if the girl is consistently happy.

I would probably opt for the show being centered more around Kyubey being new to this or something - like, magical girls are a new thing - and then have Kyubey being surprised because they presumed that the soul gem would deteriorate naturally since “emotions are powerful but destructive to the person having them,” but then all the girls team up and help each other work out their problems. Maybe the reason magical girls are usually alone isn’t even because of the grief seed (I think that’s what it’s called?) thing not being able to be shared, but because Kyubey intentionally separates magical girls so they can’t do what the main group is doing, but Madoka is so into the idea that, “We shouldn’t have to be alone,” and so she’s constantly pulling all the girls together, which keeps them healthy.

Maybe Homura’s backstory could be that Madoka originally was more sheepish and more afraid to put herself out there, especially since she was a magical girl (who are encouraged to go it alone), which is why their soul gems were both deteriorating; they were friends but kept more of a distance, or maybe they were a team but that’s all they were. Then Madoka gives Homura the last grief seed to save her and that’s what inspires Homura and makes her see Madoka as something more than a teammate, which is why Homura actively tries to save Madoka specifically (which then encourages Madoka to want to keep everyone together as friends).

In the case that Kyubey doesn’t separate them out of concern of fRiEnDsHiP, but for another reason altogether, and then it’s ultimately their own downfall when they allow the girls to hang out and realize that it’s doing a lot of good for them.

“cute and innocent”

That was exactly it. It’s on Kyubey’s trivia section on the Puella Magi Madoka Magica Wiki.

Before the anime's first dark plot twist aired, head writer Gen Urobuchi said on his Twitter account that the "Kyu" in Kyubey's name comes from the English word "cute". This was a lie meant to further mislead fans into thinking that Madoka Magica is an innocent happy show. In a later episode, it was revealed that "Kyubey" is, in fact, short for "incubator".

In my personal opinion, a spoiled plot can’t be “ruined” if it’s a good plot. If you told me that Kagome was trapped in the Modern era for three years and then decided to stay with Inuyasha at the end of Inuyasha, it wouldn’t/shouldn’t decrease the value when I finally see it for myself because it’s good. That’s not to say that everything should just be spoiled right out of the gate, but it’s saying that maybe your plot isn’t good if you have to rely on shock value to make it work??

I FEEL THAT “ASSIGNING IT TO THE WHOLE GENDER” THING SO BAD. It just adds to my “the girls all have varying personalities so it’s not like Kyubey’s only after emotional crybabies or anything” salt.

I have no idea about any of the stuff about the writers so I can’t confirm or deny them. I will very much agree on the target audience thing though, especially with the whole “keeping the dark plot a secret” because really? Who is this for then? Like, the first two and a half episodes are for one demographic and then the others are--???

I dunno. Me personally, I just like feel good stories. I do like some good conflict and drama (for context, Remarried Empress is basically a webtoon that gives you things to feel salty about and then makes its own salt fic as its plot, allowing for endless streams of feels and catharsis, so I’m definitely not against drama), but there are other times where I just want to feel good watching something.

I feel like the show expects the characters to be selfless/perfect and then punishes them even though it’s their writing that’s causing them to act out. I can’t really talking about “out-of-character” but sometimes it’s just obvious where “we did this because we needed a plot/conflict.”

Like, hello? We don’t need the main characters screwing up; why can’t we just have some feel good thing where they take the day for themselves (seriously, imagine a Miraculous episode where Chat Noir actually tells Ladybug to take a couple days for herself, like maybe someone else gets the earrings for a few days as a temp while Marinette gets to breathe; IMAGINE IT). Not everything needs to be high-stakes to be interesting and you need those calmer moments so that the action-packed ones feel more intense.

SAYAKA DESERVES BETTER.

I feel like the magical girl genre as a whole can be way more complex than it’s made out to be. I think people hear the word “magical girl” and think “cute girls in short skirts talk about girl problems and fight evil with the power of friendship and accessories.”

Ugh, just the mention of Rebellion makes me sigh internally.

Congrats on working on your own magical girl story! I hope it goes well for you!

I know it’s not technically a magical girl show, but there was also Totally Spies that Astruc worked on to some degree (I think there was some characters who were based on/a loose reference to the mains from that show but I don’t remember exactly).

The thing about the female characters suffering is that they could make for good lessons on positively directing one’s emotions (like Usagi from Sailor Moon, for example, maybe having a problem with taking her anger out on her friends, but learns that she can save that rage for the bad guys; “Gamer 2.0″ from Miraculous could’ve done that, honestly, by having Ladybug absolutely WRECK all of her gaming opponents in “violent” (cartoon violence obviously) fashion). It’s just a shame that it’s not taken advantage of.

Sayaka??? Selfish???????

*does not compute*

(Also, I wasn’t tired of them, don’t worry! It was a little overwhelming in my inbox but it’s me who’s allowing all the asks to flow in so the blame isn’t on you lol.)

I’m not sure where this obsession came from with, “you have to be selfless and you’re not allowed to use your powers for yourself.” It’s like the world’s going to end if a character leaves to go Self-Care or something. I think what happened is that shows got this idea that promoting only the giving of others is great and it’s not important to take time for yourself (even with “Gamer 2.0,” it was still Marinette playing games with everyone else, and they treated her dedication and seriousness like a bad thing when she literally did not have time to waste and they didn’t give a reason why it was good for her to take a break, only that she should).

This usually leads to the “demonization” of characters who sport a lot of self-confidence or any sort of ego. It works on both sides; Marinette is a punching bag because of her anxiety and occasional lack of confidence, but if she had an ego as Ladybug, there are parts of the fandom who deem her “obnoxious” (i.e: “Reflekdoll”). There’s a delicate balance between “be confident” and “be humble” and it’s a tightrope act.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

the unseen one - 19

Pairing: Hades!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: none

A/N: i keep playing this game called “if i add this song to the playlist will it spoil the ending” and it has become my new favourite game. sorry that it took me this long to post, it’s been very hot in cambridge which always gets me in a right mood (i hate summer and heat) so i’ve been putting my frustration into finishing my exams. had to take a break because if i have to talk about serotonin once more, my only serotonin left will leave my system 😂

hope you enjoy this chapter xx

Next Chapter >>

(not my gif, credit to creator)

James maintained a tight grip on her as the Charon took them back to his chambers in the Asphodel Meadows. She was silent and still almost like a statue, her eyes taking in as they went away from the Tartarus to the Elysium and finally to the Meadows. Y/N wondered why the King of the Underworld had decided to make his home in such a bleak place. The sounds were always of torture and mumbled cries, the souls were people who, in Y/N’s mind at least, deserved to be somewhere else, and were always begging to be taken out of their misery. It wasn’t a pretty place but his home wasn’t also she’d call a home of a King much less a god. The ceilings were high and the walls were painted in light and dark tones of grey with minimalistic furniture. It was a far cry from what her mother would describe when speaking about deities’ residences. However, James seemed to be a simple man, at least that’s how he showed himself before she got dragged way under. 

     - Do you want me to ask the servants to draw you a warm bath? Maybe some flower petals? - James questioned, his hand coming up to her face to push some hair away from her sight. - Do you wanna eat anything? Just tell me what you wanna eat and I’ll make sur ...

     - Did you hurt Anne? - Y/N was probably the only person in the Underworld who could interrupt James without having the furies being released on them immediately. He daren’t look at her, knowing exactly the look she was probably giving him, the type of look that would make him want to carry the world on his shoulders until she was happy. 

    - I did not hurt Anne. 

    - Did you turn her into any of the following. - she raised her fingers as if she were mentally counting. - A plant, an animal, some sort of plant-animal, cursed her, made her grow serpent hair ...

    - I didn’t do anything, Y/N. - he held onto her hands before she could list other ways gods had punished mortals. He did wanted to punish Anne, there hadn’t been anyone who deserved more to have the furies released upon them but he knew that if he did such thing, she would probably try and release the furies on him too. - However, next time something like that occurs I will punish them. I’m the God of the Underworld and I won’t undermine that. 

    - That’s fair. - Y/N scratched the back of her neck. She understood there was a side to him that she was yet to discover, the side of him that was a god, a ruler, but she still wanted to believe that he was her Bucky. - Shouldn’t I get back to Hecate and the other maidens?

    - If you want. - he tried to maintain a calm facade but inside he was puzzling himself over if his words had maybe scared her and she would rather be with Hecate than to be with him. - You’re free to do as you may. I just thought you’d want to stay with me.

There was a tinge of disappointment and uneasiness in his features, tightened expression as he managed not to show her how upset he felt that she did not want to be near him. Maybe it was too much for her to handle, after all up until a few hours ago she was sure she was dating a CEO and now she was dating the God of the Dead. 

Noticing his, Y/N slowly raised her hands to rest against his cheek, her mere touch raising feelings of warmth in him.

   - Sounds like you want me to stay. - there it was, her little playful smirk. James wanted to roll his eyes at her, but he couldn’t help but feel some sort of way whenever she outsmarted him.

   - I always want you to stay, Y/N. - of course he wanted her to stay. He had to endure the first moments of their relationship constantly counting the hours and looking at the sky so he wouldn’t be caught and now she was here. Sure, she was here due to uncertain circumstances, but she was still here. - But if you wanna go back to the Elysium, I would understand. 

   - I just don’t want to cause you any trouble. - Y/N slightly turned her head to the side, embarrassment creeping into her soft features.

   - Why would you cause me any trouble, sweetness? - he took the hand that was craddling his face into his own hands, sensing something wrong. - Homesick? 

   - It’s just ... considering that I’m supposed to be one of Hecate’s maidens, wouldn’t people look down on you if they saw you with me?

   - Y/N. - he sighed. - Your parents were Greek historians, right? 

   - Yeah.

   - So tell me, what’s the worse thing a god has ever done? - that as a funny question for Y/N. There were lots of myths that made her sick to her stomach just hearing about it and other myths that would make her want to climb to Mount Olympus herself and punch some gods. The short answer was, there is no short answer. 

    - Do you want it in alphabetical order? - she joked. 

    - What do you think it’s the worse offence? 

    - Well, if you asked me what I think was the worse thing ever done by a god I’d say it was what Poseidon and Athena did to Medusa.

    - Were their reputations ruined even after what they did?

    - No.

    - Then I won’t get in trouble for associating with one of Hecate’s maidens. 

    - Yeah but gods also turn into a wide variety of animals to go and do less than savoury things with mortals.

    - Less than savoury things? - he smirked. - Last time I checked you were one of Hecate’s maidens not Artemis’. 

    - Cut it off. - she playfully pushed his chest away. Bucky just rolled his eyes at her behaviour, wrapping his arms around her waist, carefully moving her closer to him afraid she might’ve gotten hurt at the Tartarus. 

   - Come, let’s get some food in you. - he guided her through his place. She wondered why it was so minimalistic and why is it in the Asphodel Meadows of all places. Maybe he disliked to be surrounded by all the fauna and flora of the Elysium or maybe Hecate didn’t allow him near it. Nevertheless, it was an odd place and an oddly unremarkable home, at least for that of a King. 

He left her waiting in his dinning hall, allowing her time to inspect it. There was nothing much but a dinning table surrounded by various book shelves. The books were in Greek for what she could muster but what caught her attention were a few picture frames by a half empty unit of the shelf. Y/N’s hands reached for the first one, a sepia coloured photo of Bucky and a blonde man she swore she’d seen before. His hair was much shorter and shabbier with a child like grin, arms around the blonde guy who looked much more polished. Her mind was telling her she had seen this picture before, she just couldn’t point it.

The other frame contained the photo of a couple dressed in hellenic clothing adorned by golden accessories. The man was standing tall, hand on the woman’s shoulder whose hair rivalled the gold colour of the pins in her head and stood sat on a porcelain chair. The look in the woman’s eyes was serene yet controlling, almost like a storm brewing over calm seas. On both their heads sat adorned jewelled crowns and the man held the same staff James had been holding back in the Tartarus.

   - Y/N? - his voice suddenly echoing through the silent made her drop the face on the carpeted floors, a flush creeping through the apples of her cheeks as she herself dropped to the floor to grab it and put it back in its due place. - What are you doing? 

   - I was just looking at your photos. - she put her hands behind her back, eyes lowered to the ground like a child who had just been scolded. Bucky walked over to where she was standing, looking at the frame she had put back. - Are they your parents? 

   - No, sweetness. - he chuckled. - That’s Hades and Persephone, well, the original ones. I find you must have memory of those who came before you. 

   - She’s beautiful. I mean, I always thought Persephone had to be beautiful, after all it was said her undying beauty was what made Hades kidnap her. 

   - Hades didn’t kidnap her. - Bucky always forgot that mortals still fully believed the myth brought back to light by the Greek. Honestly, it was a disgrace that no Underworld God had yet to chance the misconception. 

   - Yes, he did. That’s why Demeter stopped doing her job.

   - Sweetness, do you seriously think someone whose name means Bringer of Death could stay in the Underworld against her will?

   - What do you suggest then? - she crossed her arms against her ripped tunic, all knowing smirk on her face. 

   - I don’t know if I should tell you now. - Y/N huffed, lips coming into a pout which made his heart melt at the look. - If you were to tell the story of Persephone and Hades, how would you tell it?

   - I wouldn’t because I seemingly don’t know. - she had a playful nature to her gaze, a stark contrast to those with whom he spent most of his days with in the Underworld. James took her hand in his like a scene in a Jane Austen movie, slowly pulling her to him. - So what’s it gonna be?

    - Persephone found the entry to the Underworld and decided to stay because she enjoyed it here. Once Demeter realised her daughter was gone Hades faked the kidnapping story for her because he was hopelessly in love with Persephone. 

    - What about the nymphs that saw the abduction? How do you explain that?

    - There are some perks to being the God of the Underworld, sweetness. 

    - I’m guessing you won’t tell me what those perks are. 

    - Maybe later, sweetness. You must join me for dinner now.

    - Bucky ... - she picked onto her nails, eyes looking at her shoes. - Who’s the man next to you in the photo?

tag list: @philogrobizedvee​​​​​  @keithseabrook27​​​​ @inlovewith3​​​​19

[bonsaiiiiiii]

100 Weird AU's? Yes.

So, I had these AU prompts on my phone for quite a while, and I was actually thinking about using them. And what better way to do it than using them with the Tracy's?

Reading and reading these prompts again (and under the gentle guidance of @willow-salix ) I thought that these prompts doesn't exactly match the brothers' everyday situation, but what if we push it past its limit? Yes, biting more that you can chew can be a little difficult, but I don't think it will be impossible. And that's where this challenge is born!

Get the Tracy's out of International Rescue's bubble and let them live an everyday situation as normal people! They can also be medieval nobles or even futuristic robots, the choice's up to you! You can choose from soo many things others don't even think about (and not even me, for a while)!

Many thanks to @tag2060 for the cover and @willow-salix for the support (both emotional and 'fic-ical'. I love both of you💚

NOTE: THESE PROMPTS AREN'T ALL MINE. I TOOK THEM FROM A GIRL I'M NOT IN CONTACT WITH ANYMORE, BUT I WAS TOLD I COULD USE THEM. ALL CREDITS FOR THESE AU'S GO TO HER, WHATEVER IS HER NAME (lmao). THE GOLD MARKED ONES (7, 11, 20, 23, 39, 47, 63, 64, 70, 83, 89, 91, 93, 96, 100) ARE ALL MINE, IN SUBSITUTION OF A FEW THAT WERE THERE, SO CREDIT FOR THE GOLDEN MARKED ONES GOES TO ME, BUT NOT EVERY ONE OF THEM.

NOTE²: SOME OF THE PROMPTS CONTAIN STRONG THEMES, LIKE DEPRESSION AND SEXUAL CONTENT. IF YOU'RE SENSIBLE TO THESE THEMES, DON'T DO THEM, NOBODY FORCES YOU IF YOU DON'T FEEL COMFORTABLE.

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ:･ﾟ✧(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ:･ﾟ✧(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

To participate in this challenge, all you have to do is take one of the AU prompts from the list, one or more (or all) Tracy characters, and post your fic (can be a ficlet, or a series) under the tag #100weirdTracys and #100weirdAUs.

If you don't want to participate, please don't harass/bully me. I made this challenge just for fun, and I don't want for it to feel like something bad. In fact, I don't even regret doing this thing, even if it's strange.

Ah, I almost forgot: this challenge will be over in December, so you have 4 months to choose a prompt and make a fic about it. On December I'll review all the fics, but I'll always be reblogging and reading during these 4 months lol.

If you want to tell me something, hit me up on DM's! I hope you have fun with those prompts and those bois!

(づ￣ ³￣)づ(づ￣ ³￣)づ(づ￣ ³￣)づ(づ￣ ³￣)づ

TO RESUME:

• Swearing is allowed.

• You can write as many words as you want!

• Oc's and muses can pop in too!

• Make sure to tag your fic(s) under the '#100weirdTracys' and '#100weirdAUs' tags, so that I can find them easily.

• Always tag or contact me if you need help with anything! I'll be more than glad to help you!

• If you decide to do the mature prompts (19, 90, just to state an example) please refrain from using a too mature language and don't go further than making up. I don't like that kind of language, so it would be peachy to just avoid writing so they make wild sex behind a bush. Any kind of very mature fic or language won't be read by me, I'm sorry. You can still use those prompts, but don't work their bed life too much.

• Any dialect or first language apart from english is more than welcome in this yard! I would love even to read snippets of foreign language in fics, as long as there's a translation near it, but you're not forced to write in another language. If you don't feel comfortable doing it just don't do it, even if I'm telling you. (For the record, I love Irish so much I could listen to a person speaking this language for hours and you won't hear me complaining).

• I will accept this challenge in whatever form it takes, be it a fic, a drawing, a song, etc. I’m open to anything and I watch everything that comes before me!

φ(．．)φ(．．)φ(．．)φ(．．)__φ(．．)

That said, you can find the prompts down here:⬇️

 #1 I saved you from drowning!AU

#2 I broke into your house at two in the morning because I was drunk and I thought it was my house!AU

#3 I am a door-to-door seller please buy something!AU

#4 I grabbed the wrong luggage at the airport!AU

#5 I know we hate each other, but a wedding would be more convenient for both of us!AU

#6 I accidentally poured you a love potion!AU

#7 I sent you 12 messages but you left me on read!AU

#8 I am your secret admirer and I leave you anonymous cards!AU

#9 Sorry, but I was first in line!AU

#10 We don’t know each other but let's pretend to be together because someone is bothering me!AU

#11 We pack up to do a funny trip but we end up in Bolivia without fuel!AU

#12 Locked in quarantine and we're bored! AU

#13 I do everything to find out the identity of this superhero and you try to mislead me because it’s really you!AU

#14 I got into a taxi just to find out it was already occupied!AU

#15 I called the wrong number!AU

#16 I got into the wrong car OMG I'm ashamed, but while you’re there why don’t you give me a ride!AU

#17 I found a wallet and my business is to find the owner and return it!AU

#18 I am a street artist and you complain that I play in front of your house at night!AU

#19 I caught you watching porn!AU

#20 We're two strangers that start chatting while waiting for the bus!AU

#21 Nosy and sloppy roommates!AU

#22 Old childhood friends who come back after years!AU

#23 I got shot to the arm/leg but you're there to save me and OMG ILY!AU

#24 We’re sitting next to each other on a plane and please don’t throw up on me!AU

#25 We accidentally switched phones!AU

#26 We are both contestants in a reality show and let's pretend to be together because the audience will ship us!AU

#27 I am a wedding planner and my ex’s wedding had to happen to me!AU

#28 I learned sign language to communicate with you!AU

#29 Professional model and novice photographer!AU

#30 Sorry I ran you over!AU

#31 We make out and then I find out that you are my roommate’s boyfriend!AU

#32 I’m quoting aloud the last book of a series and I’m spoiling you!AU

#33 It is a universally acknowledged truth that a bachelor with a large fortune must be looking for a wife!AU

#34 I am a Partisan and you are a fascist!AU(Italy during World War II!AU)

#35 I am the blood of the dragon!AU (Iron Throne!AU)

#36 Your dog is hitting on mine!AU

#37 I’m depressed and I decide to call a hotline!AU

#38 You are my soulmate but I am in love with someone else!AU

#39 Strange encounter at tattoo shop!AU

#40 On my mark, unleash hell!AU(Roman Empire!AU)

#41 I am an Elf, don’t look at me for ears I am ashamed of!AU(The Lord of the Rings!AU)

#42 Maybe my life should be more than just survival!AU(The 100!AU)

#43 I am an activist and I am trying to convert you to the cause!AU

#44 We are occupying the school but you are a spoilsport!AU

#45 All our friends are drunk and we're not!AU

#46 We’ve been together for three months and now you’re telling me you’re a werewolf!AU

#47 X has to go into a rocket to the moon and Y has to train X!

#48 Knight in shining armor and damsel in distress!AU

#49 We reluctantly team up against the zombie apocalypse!AU

#50 I’m a vampire and your smell is driving me nuts!AU(Twilight!AU)

#51 Monsters have attacked the Earth and the only way to save humanity is aboard giant robots piloted by two people who must maintain a mental union!AU(Pacific Rim!AU)

#52 My timer stopped as soon as I saw you!AU(Soulmate!AU)

#53 I need a lawyer and you are the best!AU

#54 I’m a Viking and I plundered your ship!AU

#55 I’m a classic dandy from the Regency Age and you’re just a silly girl from the lower middle class!AU

#56 I’m a policeman and you’re an intrusive journalist and I really shouldn’t give you any information about the new murder!AU

#57 You are a wannabe actress and I am a theatrical director who is losing patience and health!AU

#58 Due to a computer error, X and Y become college roommates!AU

#59 X wants to see the world of Y, how he lives and what he usually does, and ends up spending a night in prison!AU

#60 I attend the yoga course just to watch how flexible the instructor is!AU

#61 I am a bounty hunter and you are my prey!AU

#62 I am a secret spy and pretend to be your friend only to get information about your father!AU

#63 I discuss with you about a thing but you have in mind another!AU

#64 We are forced to be best friends just because our moms were best friends too but you're too bossy for me!AU

#65 We broke up but I never changed emergency contacts and now I’m in the hospital and they called you!AU

#66 I am an angel and you are a demon!AU

#67 I hit you on the balls during a game of paintball and oh my god I am so sorry!AU

#68 We live in a dystopian world where your partner is chosen by society!AU(Matched!AU)

#69 I’m a dragon trainer I’ll prove to you that they are peaceful creatures!AU(Dragon Trainer!AU)

#70 Date at japanese restaurant!AU

#71 You’re a cheerleader and I’m a punk and we live in two different worlds!AU

#72 I was a zombie and I was "re-animated" but you treat me like I’m still a monster!AU(In the Flesh!AU)

#73 I am your son’s teacher and I am calling to talk to you about his conduct, would he also come to dinner with me!AU

#74 I am an Achaean warrior and you Trojan and we are fighting the Trojan War!AU

#75 I met my asshole boss at the bar but I found out he’s pretty cool!AU

#76 It was not my intention to touch your ass, it’s just that the bus is crowded, it’s not my fault ok!AU

#77 I went fishing and accidentally fished a mermaid!AU

#78 I just committed a crime and I need to use you as a hostage!AU

#79 You’re the bastard who always parks in front of my door and in spite I’ll scratch your car!AU

#80 I accidentally went back in time and fell in love with you, too bad you’re a barbarian!AU

#81 I urgently need you to fix my computer but please don’t judge me for my chronology!AU

#82 I work on the cruise ship where you are spending your holidays!AU

#83 I'm out in the rainstorm without an umbrella because the weather forecast was sunny!AU

#84 I hugged the wrong person from behind!AU

#85 Celebrity on the run and ordinary citizen confused!AU

#86 Stuck in a ranch cleaning horse poop but it doesn’t matter because that cowboy is a badass!AU

#87 We got married in Vegas, but we’re total strangers!AU

#88 But, officer, I wasn’t doing anything wrong, I was just smoking a joint, want a hit!AU

#89 X is an astronaut and Y is a weird but funny alien that likes to scream, overreact and laugh!AU

#90 I slept with you for a bet but I loved it and I’d like to keep seeing you!AU

#91 I reveal to some friends that you wear boxers/underwear with green aliens on them but you're behind me and oh gosh total shame!AU

#92 Oops I accidentally entered a busy dressing room!AU

#93 You're a stranger but I keep crossing paths with you and I'm kinda confused right now!AU

#94 X is a medium and Y a ghost!AU

#95 X is a guardian angel and Y wants to die!AU

#96 X accidentally enters in a cat and Y has to rescue it from up a tree!AU

#97 X risks losing the house because Y’s company wants to buy the land!AU

#98 I’m an artist and I need a model do you want to pose for me!AU

#99 I’m not really sick but the new doctor is so beautiful that I found out I have a disease with an unpronounceable name!AU

#100 A strange job application!AU

φ(．．)φ(．．)φ(．．)φ(．．)__φ(．．)

If you find them more practical, I also have some photos down here with all the prompts organized:⬇️

That said, enjoy! Hope it brings you joy and makes you happy while you do it!💙💚🧡💛❤💜💖🖤

[lady-plantagenet]

What hasn’t already been said: The Spanish Princess 2

Episode 3: GOOD Grief! (we finally have a good episode on our hands)

To all those of you keen enough to have come back for another segment of ‘what hasn’t already been said: TSP’, as opposed to have just been scrolling when you see this - welcome back! (Scrollers you too <3)

Drawing of Thomas More’s Son AKA who Margaret Pole at this point wants to be the step baby momma of ;).

To anyone who’s seeing this for the first time: what this is a list of observations, jokes, reactions and criticism which occur to me upon a rewatch. I wait every week until Saturday to do this so that I have had my fill of scrolling through the tag and aggregating what has already been said. I tried doing a whole spoof (here where I gave up 10% in) but tbh a) I don’t know the history well enough b) it’s more time consuming than I thought and c) this series is just not as funny or as crazy as TWQ, so it’s untenable. Having said that: This is not a hatepost. I’m not hatewatching this series and nitpicking on purpose but expressing my honest views and trying to find the good in it as well as the bad.

Without further ado...

First Scenes: 

LMAO the way Wolsey suggests they break their alliance with Spain is freaking hilarious because the actor delivers the lines as if he were a high school girl making a personal attack by suggesting the prom change its theme to 70s disco to the chagrin of the peppy up-and-coming rival.

Also @ Henry VIII looking like the peppy up-and-comer’s bff and shy stan with that pencil bite and small smirk when Catherine loses her cool against Wolsey.

I’m sorry... who is Henry married to again?

Also what is Margaret Pole doing at the council meeting?? I’m not saying I don’t like it.

Margaret Pole warning against certain repetitive thinking creating madness :(((

Attempted Naked Twister:

Oh Catherine, what is with you and all the other STARZ protagonists and that weird politcky bedroom talk? Who actually finds this sexy?

‘Catherine you are unnatural’ ooof that line delivery was somehow haunting.

Was the whole ‘I can’t be rushed you are off-putting with your overpowering’ a callback to Arthur and Catherine? Apparently there’s another writer for this episode so I won’t put all subtly past them. 

Scotland:

‘Shitey men’ asdkjashd

Look I’m tired of all this ‘my children won’t be safe’ line getting repeated. Look mate, murder of royal infants and children was not exactly a common occurence, even in cases of deposition. The Princes in the Tower are an exception to this but a very infamous case for that reason. Child murder was extremely taboo. In situations like this with an infant kid, no one is going to bother murdering the babies and taking their thrones, the lords will just vie for power and make themselves de facto rulers and oust the queen. It’s not a question of safety but a question of holding power. Stop giving all women characters perma mummy brains.

Maggie being all caring:

‘Barnaby’ *scoffs* ‘Such an English name’ - OH MAN 0_0 is Catherine mocking them for trying to adapt ? Like I know it’s meant to show her envy for Lina, but it’s coming out all messed up.

Our girl Maggie’s smile screams I’m beating your ass in chess.

Anyhow this is the least histrionic we’ve seen Catherine so far.

Chaplain vs Catherine:

I’m interested how Catherine will feel at Stafford’s execution given that I have noticed this show build up to a friendship between them.

Why is everyone laughing at the whole ‘will you delight us with new schemes’ line was not that funny?

LMAO at Thomas Boleyn’s attempted brown-nosing. 

You know what? Ruairi is a decent actor. When he says ‘so you admit it? you lost the child because you tried to be a man?” the actor conveys Henry’s troubled mind, lowkey scare towards Catherine and bewilderment all in one. The way his eyes do not move but just widen emotionlessly also gives this sense that he is being manipulated (which I guess they are going for with Wolsey). Then the whole choir music in the background.. I don’t know.. I’m liking this, it’s creating a vibe of a king of haunted and increasingly paranoid Henry. I’m sure they are going for that, so good.

Ursula Pole and Mama:

Maggie Pole say ‘riches don’t keep you safe’ with tears in her eyes :’(. Please tell me how this is not her thinking on her parents and granddad Warwick and what befell them ;’(.

I find Ursula refreshing actually, don’t get those types of heroines often. But they are making her similar to a gold-digger, an exhalted marriage was first and foremost considered a thing of honour. Noblepeople wouldn’t speak in such mercenary terms regarding their marriages. 

Post Mary Defiance:

I love the ‘horse’ nickname from Brandon n’awwww

Also just realised what made TWQ so atmospheric - that wierd ‘oooo’ sound effect in the background when a character was being paranoid or worrying. They are using it during Henry’s ‘How is it that I have no sons?’ and it is just... so effective.

Catherine calling them ordinary children... she just keeps striking me as more and more classist. Like ok, I know every royal was... but still, I thought she was meant to see Lina as a friend and equal despite her race and status. To add the race element, this kind of rubs me the wrong way.

Also it is so clear by the end when Catherine states how the king is upset with her, she expects Maggie to ask her about it.. but she doesn’t lmao.

Back to Scotland until Sexy boy fencing:

I love me this soft boi. Angus <3 <3

I like how they address that some men don’t really like killing and that violence isn’t inherent in a man’s nature.

Oh man, are we supposed to look at Lina’s house and deplore the impoverished conditions? It would go for at least 3,000,000 pounds in today’s property market?

Is Catherine being particularly classist again with ‘Why u not becoming a butcher Wolsey, ey?’. 

Though I will admit the ‘but giving meat to the poor is also good’ was one of her only smart comebacks.

Just realised, Catherine’s pink dress pretty as it is, looks straight out of the 1570s... why?

Montage and After:

You guys are right, there is this weird longing between Henry and Wolsey lmao. It is actually insane.

So basically Catherine is officially depressed

OOOFF we have Stafford as regent instead of Catherine. (edit: I suppose it’s cause they go to France which they didn’t historically? Also if Stafford is at home then what is his son later doing in France, why would he be there without his father. This show didn’t think this through)

Meg Singing:

An impassionate speech is not too anachronistic. But despite the title of this post (what hasn’t been said) I will reiterate that 16th century and Medieval people’s problem wasn’t that they were ashamed of their grief and didn’t cry. In fact, crying was somewhat more socially acceptable then than it even is now! Even manly men like Arthur were written as crying in literature such as Malory’s Morte d’Arthur. Obviously you couldn’t go overboard, but in truth crying was indeed often too performative rather than hidden too much behind doors.

Pole and More UWUWU in France and after:

I LIKE THIS INTELLECTUAL FLIRTING

It’s nice to see a depiction of romantic feelings between mature and level-headed subjects.

God Mary Tudor is so beautiful in this scene jesus. and the music when she was being presented was also very beautiful.

Maggie Pole getting given ‘a modest income’ yeah... she was one of the wealthiest peers of her day.

Also Maggie’s lady cousin not lady aunt Frost!

‘shaking of the sheets’ lmaoooo

William Compton cracks the hell out of me. I love this guy. He is just so creepy and twisted yet super keen and friendly. ahaha He looks like a riot, I hope we see him more. lmao tiles.

Also this palace feels very anachronistic almost 18th century-ish.

I like the Louis and Mary sequence, it’s nice seeing him trying to make her feel less scared, but OMFG when he lay on that chair.. for one second I thought they were trying to kill him off already.

Scotland: ‘Love is an open doooooorrrrr’ + Last Scene:

I ship Meg and Douglas ahhhh this soft boi x strong woman match is everything Henry and Catherine could have been.

I wonder... why is Lina speaking in Spanish more than Catherine. hmmm Are they trying to foreshadow Lina’s eventual return home and how Catherine become a true englishwoman?

Conclusion:

7.5/10

I cannot in all fairness believe it. This was actually decent. I’ve given up on historical accuracy long ago so by this point I’m focusing more on how it stands as as drama. I mean, TWQ was also a flop when it came to grasping the complex issues of that era but why do I feel compelled to rewatch it every year? Because it had atmosphere when it came to acting, music, certain aesthetics (though the costumes let me down often). It felt adequately gothic and dark, yet bright and jewel-lish when it had to be, sometimes both at the same time. Some one-liners were also memorable etc...

So far TSP 2 did not have any of this. Everything felt way too off and anachronistic. But not even consistently anachronistic. The music was also often very meh (though I just noted the absence of the spanish stringy theme that kept playing in season 1 - I guess I understand why), the dialogue very clichéd (‘alright lads let’s throw in the words: king, crown, power, fight, battle + other buzzwords and we have ourselves Shakespeare’) and so on... but I saw a change in this episode and I couldn’t initially point out what it was.

Upon rewatch, I identified some of the improvements (noted above) but above all: The producer was different! Boy does it show. Unfortunately, I think she is only for this one episode which really sucks. Come back! There is more chemistry between the couples, less predictable interactions, pervy Compton, cinnamonroll Douglas, better music, more scenic shots (e.g Douglas and Margaret in church) e.t.c. I hope it will match the rest of the STARZ productions in getting better towards the end.

Look it’s no masterpiece. But I’ll give credit where it’s due because at least this time it didn’t leave me feeling wanting and unsatisfied (if that makes sense).

[just-random-obsessions]

Funny Moments In Thor The Dark World

Find Thor 1 here

Find Avengers 1 here

This is the second part of me watching all three thor movies and the avengers movie and comparing the humor pre-ragnarok to the humor in the 3rd Thor movie. And, as before, I’m writing this on my computer where the I and U keys don’t work so sorry for any spelling mistakes.

Tag List: @nikkoliferous @fyrecrafted @lokijiro @miskiett @darthxerik @icyxmischief @iamanartichoke @juliabohemian @official-and-unstable-satan @melodylnoelle @just-another-human-2019 @fandomsfanfiction @mentallydatingahotcelebrity @cateyes315 @burningarbiterheart @imnotacreepijustlikeyou @usedtobegoodfriend96 @alexakeyloveloki

Official-and-unstable-satan and fandomsfanfiction weren’t tagged sry

Anyone who wants to be added/removed to the tag list please let me know! and if I missed someone please also let me know. Sorry this post is so long

~ “Hello Mother. Have I made you proud?”

~ “Please don’t make things worse” “Define worse”

~ “I really don’t see what all the fuss is about”

~ “Just like you”

~ *That smile!!!!*

~ “I’ve got this completely under control!” “Is that why everything’s on fire?”

~ *About the Scary MonsterTM: “All yours”

~ *Thor says hi to the Big Scary MonsterTM*

~ “I accept your surrender”

~ “Anyone else?” *All the people simultaneously: NOPE*

~ “Perhaps next time we should START with the big one”

~ *Odin obviously shipping Thor and Jane* (idk I got a kick out of this)

~ *Jane awkwardly avoiding her date*

~ *Date: hi*

~ *Him awkwardly talking about his ex*

~ “And the fact that she kept sleeping with other men” “NO!”

~ *Darcy being mistaken for a waitress*

~ *Darcy mouthing “Cute” to Jane about Richard*

~ *Darcy embarrassing Jane by talking about Thor*

~ “Is there a point to all of this cause there REALLY needs to be a point to all of this”

~ “That’s what I said!”

~ “That’s what I did!”

~ “He’s not interested” “I’m interested” (Am I the only one who feels like his awkwardness was actually kinda cute?)

~ “He’s my intern.” “You have an intern?”

~ *Intern is fucking adorable like Richard*

~ “I have totally mastered driving in London!” *Has not mastered it at all*

~ *Selvig running around Stonehenge naked*

~ *Darcy keeps calling Ian ‘Intern’*

~ *Darcy calls Jane cause she didn’t wanna shout*

~ God I fucking love Darcy she’s so criminally underrated

~ “I am not getting stabbed in the name of science”

~ “It’s okay, we’re Americans!” “Is that supposed to make them like us?”

~ “We’re scientists-well I am” “Thanks”

~ “That doesn’t seem right”

~ “I wanna throw something! Jane give me your shoe!”

~ *Jane ignores Darcy*

~ “Give me your shoe”

~ “Were those the car keys?”

~ *Ian’s face when he realizes he threw the car keys to another planet*

~ *If you have to bury so many people then you’re doing something wrong you hot dumb fuck* (I mean that’s basically what Heimdall said right?)

~ “Typical” *after being left behind while Jane goes to talk to her boyfriend*

~ *Jane! Love of my life and most talented and beautiful person in the world oh how I love yo-SLAP*

~ “As excuses go, its not terrible”

~ “I know” “You do?” “Do what?”

~ *Darcy interrupts the KissTM*

~ “Um I’m pretty sure we are getting arrested”

~ “How’s space?” “Space is fine”

~ “He’s my intern… My intern’s intern”

~ “Holy shit!” (after Jane went up in the Bifrost)

~ *Heimdall calmly dodges the car*

~ “We have to do that again”

~ “Hello”

~ “What’s that?”

~ “It’s a soul forge” *No I’m pretty sure that’s a quantum field generator*

~ *Jane being ready to fight Odin for comparing her to a goat*

~ “You told your dad about me?”

~ “It must be so inconvenient, them asking about me day and night”

~ “Please meet my mother” *Jane shies away from Thor*

~ Loki casually tossing the thingamajig in the air like the cute little shit he is

~ Lord, he’s so damn pretty

~ *Kurse being like: Lol I ain’t touchin’ that boy with a ten foot pole*

~ “It’s as if they resent being in prison”

~ “There’s no pleasing some creatures”

~ *Loki calmly reading a book while all Hel breaks loose*

~ “You have my word that no harm will come to yo-” nvm bitch die

~ *THAT look between Sif and Jane*

~ *Frigga immediately seeing through Odin’s bs lies*

~ *Heimdall: I have defeated the big space ship!! The bigger one behind him: Bitch you thought*

~ “WITCH!!!!” *Now I know who Loki gets his amazing aforementioned smile from*

~ *Selvig using shoes to explain complicated science*

~ *Selvig then using pencils*

~ “Any questions?” “Yeah, can I have my shoe back?”

~ “What’s SHIELD?” “It’s a secret”

~ *Darcy’s cute af face when she sees that Selvig is in the mental hospital*

~ “Are you sure you wouldn’t just rather punch your way out?”

~ *Loki shapeshifting into the guard*

~ “Mmm Brother, you look ravishing”

~ “Costumes a bit much”

~ “So tight!”

~ “I can FEEL the righteousness surging!!”

~ “HEY wanna have a rousing discussion about truth?”

~ “Honor?”

~ “Patriotism?”

~ “GOD BLESS AMERICA!”

~ “At last. A little common sens-”Bitch are you really fucking kidding me? (What do you mean that’s not what he said?)

~ “I thought you liked tricks”

~ “I’m Loki, you may have heard of-” SLAP

~ “That was for New York”

~ “I like her”

~ *Loki gazing lovingly at Jane in the background*

~ “Betray him, and I’ll kill you.” “It’s good to see you too Sif”

~ “If you even think about betraying him-” “You’ll kill me? Evidently there will be a line”

~ “I thought you said you knew how to fly this thing.” “I said how hard can it be?”

~ “Whatever your doing brother I suggest you do it faster.” “Shut up Loki

~ “You must’ve missed something.” “I didn’t, I’m pressing every button on this thing”

~ “Well don’t hit it. Just press it, gently.” “I aM pReSsInG iT gEnTlY AND ITS NOT WORKING!!!”

~ *Thor starts slamming buttons and it starts working*

~ *Volstagg: Oh fighting is much fun- OH SHIT IM FALLING!! HELP!!!*

~ “I think you missed a column.” “Shut up”

~ “Why don’t you let me take over? I’m clearly the best pilot”

~ *Bitch I’m the one who can actually fly*

~ “Oh dear. Is she dead?”

~ *Thor knocks over a column* “Not a word”

~ “Now they’re following us”

~ “Now they’re firing at us”

~ “Yes thank you for the commentary Loki, it’s not at all distracting”

~ “Well done, you just decapitated your grandfather”

~ *Seriously, whoever wrote the escape scene is a genius!!!*

~ *Loki yelling at Thor about how thIs was a bad idea you dumb fuck- wait wtf are you doing AAAAHHHHH!!!!1*

~ “You lied to me. I’m impressed”

~ *That smile again snfnejaihfeqrqrsbdsalxdjewonjfeq*

~ “For Asgard!” YEET

~ “Nothing personal boys!”

~ “If it were easy, everyone would do it”

~ “Are you mad?” “Possibly”

~ “TADAAA”

~ “Oh yeah, my father. Eric Selvig”

~ “And these” “yeah… those”

~ “How did you find me?” “You were naked on television”

~ “I don’t get paid enough. I don’t get paid at all”

~ “What’s happening? Birds? Birds are happening?”

~ “All right are you ready?” “I am”

~ *phone rings* “It’s not me”

~ “Why are there so many shoes in here?”

~ “I’ll just text her”

~ “So who’s Richard?”

~ *Thor hanging his hammer on a coat hanger*

~ “Where are your pants?” “Oh he says it helps him think”

~ “Loki is dead” “Oh thank God!”

~ “Better get my pants”

~ “Do you even know what these things do?” “No” “…Neither do I”

~ “Ooh get the guy with the sword!”

~ “Oops”

~ *Ian’s high-pitched scream*

~ *Does car insurance cover My Car Was Sucked Into Another Planet Due To A Cosmic Event That Only Occurs Once Every 5000 Years or no?*

~ *Thor and Malekith fighting between worlds and poor little Mjolnir trying to keep up*

~ *The two of them against windows*

~ *AAAHHH*

~ *Awww! Look at the cute little Jotunheim monster! He’s so adorable I wanna pet him so much!’

~ *Darcy and Ian kissing after he saved her life*

~ “Darcy?” “Jane!” “Ian?” “Selvig.”

~ “Myuh Myuh!!”

~ *Thor ends up on the subway*

~ *The girl taking 50 photos*

~ *Thor and the woman colliding into eachother*

~ “I’ve come to accept your surrender”

~ *Malekith gets crushed by his own ship. Now that’s some lovely karma right there*

~ *Darcy and Ian go back to kissing*

~ “He kinda committed treason on our way out” oops

~ Jotunheim Puppy chasing birds

Wow I’m so sorry this was so long. But guess what? It’s gonna get even longer. Sorry, again.

So one of the differences between the first and second Thor movies is that Thor 2 has humor in the climax whereas Thor 1 doesn’t. This is because of the differences with who is the villain. In Thor 1, Thor is having to fight his brother. To quote Avengers, they “played together and fought together” for several millennia. Of course there’s not going to be any humor in it cause there shouldn’t be. The climax at the end of the movie isn’t supposed to be some epic battle between the forces of Good TM and Bad TM. It’s supposed to be tragic that he’s having to fight his own brother because Loki lost his mind due to so many factors. The last joke in the film is “You’re an amazon liar brother, always have been” “It’s good to have you back”. There’s nothing else till the end credit scene. That’s because Kenneth Branagh knew that this was supposed to be viewed at as being sad a hopeless, not some awesome upbeat battle.

Thor 2 on the other hand, is exactly that. Thor has known Malekith for.. what? 2 days? Maybe 3? His relationship and dynamic with Malekith is different than with his brother. To Thor, this is just another enemy attacking Asgard. And I’m not sure whether this was intentional or not (because I remember reading somewhere how Allen Taylor had a bitch of a time in the editing process so I think the movie came out different than he intended) but the lack of any personal relationship will Malekith means the film can make really funny jokes and still have it fit with the film. If anything, I might even argue that the humor helped the film to maintain a very nice positive vibe. Idk I can’t think of the right words to explain it but the jokes actually fit the film very well.

However, then we move on to Ragnarok. With Ragnarok, Thor is fighting his sister. While (just like Malekith) he has only known her for two days, that still doesn’t take away the fact that he is having to fight his sibling. And I’m not a film director but if I had the option of approaching this situation and taking it the Thor 1 route or the the Thor 2 route, I’d go with Thor 1. Because it’s actually incredibly tragic that Hela has been driven to insanity like Loki (though ok a different level) due to Odin’s shitty parenting. She is the horrible way she is because Odin made her that way. And that could’ve been an AMAZINGLY complex story with the audience feeling so much sympathy for Hela like we did with Loki in Thor 1, but the narrative just falls flat for two reasons. 1) Taika admitted he didn’t want the film to be emotionally complex so 2) The humor in the climax completely detracts from the seriousness of the situation.

Also, some side notes: Yes, this is edited from the original. I accidentally deleted everything and then had to go back and add everything back in. So I also had to re-tag people too. And I also added a bit more explanation at the end. I meant to do so when I originally posted but it never got done till now. Sry. Also sry that it’s so long

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Sam, Interrupted: Part Two

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,708

Warnings: typical supernatural violence, language, angst, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

In order to figure out how Ted really died—it definitely wasn’t suicide—you needed to go to the morgue and inspect the body. It was easy to get down there, and while you were there, you kept a look out while the brothers inspected the body. If you were correct, then there should be some kind of physical cause for his death besides the ligature marks on his neck. Dean took Ted’s lower half of the body to see if there was something noticeable that would explain what was going on. Sam began feeling his head until he felt wo puncture wounds behind Ted’s ears.

“Hey, I think I found something.”

“What is it?” you asked.

“Right here,” he said, grabbing a Q-tip from a table and sticking it into the hole. It came out of the other side which meant there wasn’t anything in his head—not even a brain. “This hole goes all the way through to his brain.”

“What does that mean?” Dean asked.

“Let's find out,” Sam grinned, eyeing a bone saw.

“Seriously?”

“If my theory is correct, there might not be a brain in there which means the monster we’re hunting eats it through the hole in the back of the ears that he puncture,” you observed.

Dean took a step back and let his brother cut into the man’s skull to see if your theory was correct or not. Dean didn’t want to see this so he exited the morgue and stood right outside while you joined Sam’s side to see what he was doing. Once he cut into the skull, he removed the top of it off. Instead of a brain inside, it was a small, hard, black rock like thing.

“Well, that’s not supposed to happen,” you commented.

“Guys,” Dean rushed back inside the morgue urgently.

“Look, his brain's been sucked dry,” you commented as Sam held up the item.

“That's fascinating. Somebody's coming,” he whispered.

Both you and the brothers rushed to put everything back where it was before the person entered the place. As soon as the last piece was placed, the door opened and the really happy nurse—her name badge only said Foreman—walked in.

“What are you three doing in here?” she asked.

Each of you looked at one another, unable to think of a good enough reason to be in here. Dean did the first thing he could think of and pulled down his pants, exposing everything to everyone.

“Pudding!” he yelled, raising his hands in the air.

Both you and Sam stared at him like he was crazy, but Nurse Foreman only smiled.

“Alright, come on, you three,” she chuckled.

Dean pulled his pants back up and heads for the door. He turned back to you two with a wink.

“Crazy works,” he whispered.

Shaking off that feeling, you followed Dean out the door, but not before you made strange eye contact with the nurse. It was like she knew who you were or something. Now that you knew what was happening, you needed to tell Martin about this since he might know more about it.

“Are those original Gacy's?” Dean chuckled, looking at the wall covered in clown paintings.

“I painted those,” Martin frowned.

“Back on point, please,” Sam interrupted. “Um, so, whatever this thing is, it Slurpees your brain and sucks you dry.”

“Then it makes the deaths look like suicides. Any ideas?” you asked.

“Yeah, a bad one,” the ex-hunter sighed. He led you to one of his tables before bringing out his journal that he kept with him most days. He opened it up to a specific page and showed you the drawing he did.

“What is it?” you asked.

“Well, I bet you a chicken dinner it's what we're up against—a wraith. They crack open skulls and feed on brain juice.”

“You ever tangle with one before?”

“Never. Never wanted to, neither.”

“So, how do we kill it?” Dean asked.

“Silver. You so much as touch a wraith with the stuff, and the skin will crackle. Now, that's the good news. The bad news is they can pass as humans,” he motioned to everyone in the room. “It could be any Peter, Paul and Mary in the joint.”

“So how do we find it?” you wondered.

“A mirror. Lore says a wraith will show its true form in a mirror.”

“Okay, well, we just gotta spot check every patient and every staff member,” Dean shrugged.

“Okay. Yeah. But, I mean, what's it doing in a mental hospital?” Sam asked.

“Come on, it’s a perfect setting. Who’s going to believe a patient when they say they saw a. monster? It's the perfect hunting ground,” you explained.

“Okay, then we need to station ourselves near mirrors and just observe for the time being,” Sam said, taking the lead on this one.

By the end of it all, you were stationed near the entrance where people come and go, Dean was stationed next to the nurses’ station, and Sam and Martin were somewhere else that was out of sight. As you watched people through the mirror, you noticed Dean talking to someone even though there was no one there. It was strange to see this kind of behavior, especially when you thought you saw it when you two were playing checkers. It was really weird, and you didn’t know if you should go over there and talk to him about that or stick to your assignment.

As you watched everyone else, you noticed Dean stand up a bit straighter when Dr. Fuller approached him from the right side. His eyes went a bit wide as he passed by, and he made eye contact with you. He pointed to him, and you knew that you had the monster. Leaving your spot, you joined your boyfriend’s side.

“You think it’s Dr. Fuller?” you asked.

“I saw him through the mirror, Y/N. It’s him.”

“Who were you talking to earlier?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean who were you talking to? There wasn’t anyone by your side.”

“Dr. Cartwright. She’s assigned to my case. Come on, we need to go find Sam,” he urged, leaving your side.

“No, she isn’t,” you frowned, following him from behind.

There was no one here by that name so you wondered why he was saying these things. It didn’t take long to find and locate Sam and Martin, and it took even less for Sam to raid the nurses’ station to get four silver letter openers.

“Alright, I had to raid three nurses' stations to get these,” he handed them off. “They're only silver-plated, but they should work.”

“Thanks—”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Wendy, the girl who kissed you before, march straight to the group.

“No, Wendy, not again—” She walked right past you and shoved Dean against the wall and kissed him.

It was a long kiss, but she pulled away eventually. Everyone was shocked at this, so Sam didn’t know what to do when she did the same exact thing to him.

“I want them now,” she said to you. “I like men now. They’re… larger.”

“Hm,” Dean shrugged at his brother when the woman walked away. “You’ve had worse.”

“Fuller is on call tonight, so we'll have to hit him after lights out,” Sam changed the subject. “All three of us.”

“What? No,” Martin shook his head.

“Martin, we gotta get past security, past the orderlies, and then cut the boss-man's throat, okay? It's gonna suck start to finish, but we could use the backup.”

“Oh, I can't. I can't,” he shakes his head and begins to walk away.

“We know what happened in Albuquerque,” you blurted out.

“You don't know the half of it,” he stops and turns. “God, I used to be just like you three. I used to think I was invincible, and then... well, I found out I'm not.”

“Martin, you're still a hunter.”

“No. I'm not. I'm useless. Why do you think I checked myself into the Hotel California? I'd give anything to help you three, I would. But, I-I can't. I'm sorry. I can't,” he sighed and walked away from the group.

“It’s just us three, so come on,” you said, leading the group to Fuller’s office which was empty.

After searching it, you noticed his car keys was still here which meant he was still in the building.

“He's still in the building. Sam takes the west wing, Dean the east, and I'll take the north.”

“Okay,” Sam nodded.

After exiting the office, you three took your separate ways. Since the entrance to the north wing was closer to the east than the west, you went with Dean.

“I have a weird feeling with this one,” you expressed.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I didn’t get any weird vibes from him when we met him. The only person whose given me the monster vibes is Nurse Foreman, the really happy nurse.”

“I know what I saw, Y/N. Dr. Fuller is the wraith.”

“I don’t think so,” you whispered.

Approaching the entrance to the north wing, you were about to separate when you heard Sam’s screams come from all the way across the hospital. Both you and Dean booked it out of there to get to Sam. When you did, you noticed him struggling with Dr. Fuller. The doctor was clearly terrified since Sam was much bigger than he was, but that wasn’t the most pressing thing. His arm was cut due to the silver letter opener, but he wasn’t in pain at all from it. Rushing over to Sam, you grabbed his arm when he raised it to stab the doctor.

“Sam! It’s not him!” you yelled. “Look at his arm. That cut's not burning!”

Sam, once he realized what he’s done, he dropped the blade on the ground. Looking behind you, Dean widened his eyes in realization that he was wrong about this. Dr. Fuller was clearly scared of what was going on, so he didn’t move from his spot even after Sam was off of him.

“It’s not him,” you repeated to yourself which meant the nurse was.

There was something really off about her.

Wanna get tagged? Add yourself to this document! If your tag doesn’t work, find out why!

@sing4mejensen​ @essie1876​ @gh0stgurl​ @redsalv20​ @superrandomnatural​ @scarletmeii​ @babypink224221​ @gaveherhearttotheliontattoo​ @akshi8278​ @a--1--1--3​ @kendlemariee​ @miraclesoflove​ @earthtokace​ @teamfreewillsstuff​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @kiwihoee​ @jennazeise​ @phantomalchemist​ @posiemax​ @22sarah08​ @tricksterdean​ @andi-mendes-barnes​ @put-my-favorite-record-on​ @countrygal17a​ @whit85-blog​

[ask-a-cool-spaceguy]

Making a pinned post to procrastinate my school work-

//Hello! I’m Admin Leon! I run this blog! I figured I’d make a pinned post cause not everyone wants to go and read a long carrd, so I figured I’d make a post with some of the most important info just to make things easier!

If you can, I still do recommend you read my carrd here! At the very least, the blacklist, disclaimers, and why no interact sections! I will be putting the most important info here, but of course the carrd will hold all the information you need to know!

For starters, please don’t reblog this post! This is not a promo or anything! Plus it will be edited from time to time! Now I will place everything else under a read more because it will get long and I don’t wanna clog anyone’s dash!

TAGS:

Character interaction tags all follow this format - “int:*characters name*(*optional nickname based on their blog name*)” With no spaces, no quotes, and no asterisks! For example, int:kaito(coolspaceguy) would be what I use if I was interacting with a Kaito who’s blog name is ask-a-cool-spaceguy ;0c

“promo” is used when I promo another blog! These posts to tend to be long just as a heads up!

“long post” is used when I feel a post is very long, length wise not reply wise. Do note that I don’t tag promo posts with this unless I reply to it after promo-ing it!

Blacklist tags I commonly use are as follows! If you’d like for me to blacklist tag a specific thing not on this list, just let me know and I’ll keep it in mind and add it here(Sidenote: I won’t tag ships/characters with ship/full character names in order to keep them out of the search tag! I will work with ya to get a special tag made though!) Also if I forgot something here just let me know again!:

“👻” and “phobia tw” which are when the topic of ghosts are brought up. The emoji is typically used for more lowkey reactions, but the phobia tw tag can involve panic attacks!

“medical tw” and “medical mention” which are of course used when medical topics are brought up

“death tw” and “death mention” are used of course during the topic of death! I do not tag mentions of the Killing Game unless the topic becomes about a death in it!

“trauma tw” is used whenever someone in the thread is currently going through a hard time because of a traumatic experience. Also gets used when someone is talking about said experience.

BLACKLIST:

For starters I do wanna say: Please don’t use my blog as a positivity blog or come asking for advice! I personally cannot handle vents at times cause brain is the big dumb 😔

My blacklist is sorted into two sections! The general blacklist which contains things that actually make me uncomfy, and the things that I’d just rather not have on the blog!

General Blacklist:

Venting to me unprompted

Romanticizing mental illness

Chihiro or Gonta x anyone

Incest and Pedophilia

Spider pictures and extended spider talks

Character hate and discourse (As well as discourse in general)

Things I’d just rather not have mentioned on the blog:

Kokichi x anyone

Anything involving self harm/suicide

Anything involving major current events (Unless its a happy topic!)

Sending anything involving pee/poop will get you blocked

NSFW (I might allow a few suggestive jokes, but that’s a big MIGHT)

Carrying on jokes longer than they have to (This used to be a bigger problem in the past, but I’m still keeping the rule-!)

DISCLAIMERS:

This is the part where you might have to check out my carrd to get all the details! Again this is just gonna be the most important stuff! I also will not add the “why no interact” section here so make sure you head to my carrd to read those!

I’m sorry if I don’t reblog your promo! There could be many reasons why I do not reblog it, but none of them are because I’m just ignoring you! Tumblr also likes to not notify blog owners when someone tags them in a post, so it’s a good idea to send an IC ask to the blogs you tagged if they didn’t reblog the promo!

I am somewhat busy these days, and also have motivation problems, so I’ll often be late to replies or answering asks! Because of this, I might also forget about some rp threads entirely! Feel free to DM me if I do to remind me!

Kaito is a Japanese character living in Japan. He doesn’t follow some Western traditions (Such as Christmas) because of this! Please don’t treat him like a dumb person for not knowing about/not following these traditions! However please feel free to tell and teach him about those traditions! He’ll be happy to learn!

To any Junko blogs that wish to interact: I have some unease around Junko blogs due to some minor trauma! Junko as a character is fine, however if I do not personally know you as a mod, I will have to decline interacting with your Junko blog! Sorry! Some OC blogs might get the same type of response, again due to the same minor trauma! For clarification though, if I do know the mod behind the blogs then I am perfectly ok with interacting!

I DO NOT interact with blogs that use stolen/uncredited fanarts/edits to rp with. If I recognize the sprite or notice you’re using fanart from google images, and do not see credit (Or a confirmation that you have permission to use said sprites/art without credit) in the bio or in a pinned post, I will halt interaction with you.

While Kaito knows a lot about space, I do not- I have to research in order to have Kaito talk about space things! That being said, sometimes in research you get a bad source, or you think you remember something correctly but it’s wrong! If I make Kaito give a not correct space fact, please don’t take it out on him! It’s just because I, the mod, made a mistake, not him. Feel free to correct me though!

[venomsvl]

Your Fault

Pt.1 || Pt.2 || Pt.3 || Pt.4

Summary: Betty copper, a  perfect girl next door, wants to reflect back the anger and hurt feelings, back to Jughead. In order to reach her main goal; Revenge.

Warning: Angst, depression, crying, past trauma, did I mention angst?

Betty's POV

I had taken place behind the ajar door, no one had noticed me. I was listening in on them, but in some parts, he was whispering. As if he knew I was listening.

I was beyond confused. Thoughts were clouding my senses, I didn't comprehend what I just heard. So the past few years of me crying myself to sleep were for nothing? me always feeling guilty too? 

I haven't noticed that I was beginning to cry. a sob left my mouth, that had caught their attention. 

Jughead immediately stood up and with caution, he took his first steps towards me. I couldn't look at him or even hear his voice again at the moment. 

with my mind still fizzy from the emotional and mental shock,  did the only thing that came to my mind; I ran away.

I ran in the girls' lavatory. I was pretty sure he was coming after me because I could hear his rapid footsteps behind me. the only thing that stopped him, was when I entered.

Going in the last cubicle and closing the toilet lid 

Veronica's POV

I had understood why Jughead did it; he was protecting us. Saving us from the hands of death. but what I didn't get was why betty ran. 

Am not sure if she heard us and started crying or is it because she saw jug? I went with the latter. so when Jug came back I didn't expect him to come with betty at all. and as always I was correct.

"Jug, where is Betty?" really Archie isn't it obvious she wasn't going to enter back with him!

"she entered the girls' loo, I couldn't enter after her" well that's surprisingly unexpected, I guess I was partly wrong.

"Its ok Archie, I will go after her and see what happened " If Betty wants to talk that is, if not am still going to be there for her comfort. 

I left them after getting their approval. they seemed quite hesitant at first but agreed in the end. I am wondering why Betty ran? isn't she supposed to be happy that she saw Jughead after a long time? I just don't get why she is acting this way!  

"Betty, what happened? why did you run all of a sudden?" I didn't get any response back which made me more worried "B, honey, where are you?" again no response. I kept quiet that is for me to be able to hear any small noise. I heard someone sniffle from the last cubicle. I immediately knew that Betty was indeed here. I knocked on the door asking her for permission to open the door. upon opening the door what I saw was not something I was expecting at all.

Betty sat on the toilet lid crying her heart out like there is no tomorrow. 

"Oh my god B! what happened for you to be in such state?"

"Jones happened!" I was taken back by her response.

"What do you mean Jones happened?" 

"neither you nor Archie know this but when Jones accused us, bad things happened to me that made my parents change their way with me. And then with Polly thing happened a few weeks after that it made it harder for me! I couldn't take all the pain, sadness, guilt, and all the feeling was feeling all at once. it was hard really hard V! I couldn't, I couldn't take it. it was all too much for me. am a human too! I wanted comfort but neither of my parents gave that to me! Because they would never understand what I was going through!" 

"I was diagnosed with depression, after a month of the events of Polly. I had to take medication and go to therapy every few days to have the doctors keep up with my mental health as well as my emotional health. That's why I always gave excuses like 'sorry, my parents want me home immediately after school' 'i can't make it I have so many homework due tomorrow' because I wanted nothing more than to let my bed swallow me. I was grieving and with my parents not caring about me and me thinking that if I told your or Arch it would bring more burdens on both of you." 

"I felt lost broken and damaged just because of Jughead jones! I know he wanted to help us or to save us but I don't care he could have done anything else rather than bringing upon me all of these feelings. he could have us told us! I didn't ask for him to save me I wanted to be happy with my best friends! wanna hear something even more wonderful? he is my mystery crush! he is the one. Not Archie, not Reggie, not any other boy in this god damn hell of a place but him! so add on top of having your best friend feeling betrayed by his friends and conflicting guilt and sadness on them but also you own crush kind of rejecting you! how would you feel? huh, TELL ME?"

"Oh, and how can I forget! one of the reasons why I dated Elijah was that I was trying to forget about him, trying to get his stupid face out of my head. to forget that he never existed in my life at all, I did like him but I will always like or maybe even love Jughead more. I don't know what to do anymore with my life and seeing him stand in front of me brought back, way too many memories of us I was trying so hard to suppress from resurfacing. So if your hear to inform me that I was overreacting and being dramatic or whatever, just leave then because I don't want to hear any of the Bullshit!"

"B, I never knew you were going through all that and of course your not a burden. We all have our burdens and its okay to ask for help. And you should never feel ashamed that you go to therapy or that you take medication; because that shows how strong you are to admit that you need help. Your way stronger than you give yourself credit for. I myself wouldn't be able to do what you did Betty. Do you know what I admire the most about you? your will power to be strong and continue. That characteristic is very rare to find and I found you! not anyone else. You're as beautiful as a rose! and I would never think your overdramatic even though you have some of those moments" That had made her laugh. " See even your laugh is beautiful!"

"Now come on, let's go eat spaghetti to forget your regretti" 

in spite of having a break down just a few moments ago, she is now smiling and laughing. being her ordinary carefree self. 

"Now now, we wouldn't want other people knowing about what happened so let's get you all cleaned up" splashing water on her swollen eyes and re-applying her makeup; there was no trace or evidence that she had been crying at all. 

Tag Your username

[clansayeed]

Bound by Circumstance ― Chapter 18: Let Me Do You This Kindness

PAIRING: Nik Ryder x trans*M!MC (Taylor Hunter) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Circumstance ⥽

Taylor Hunter (MC) has made it good for himself in New Orleans; turns out moving to a new city fresh out of college to reinvent yourself isn’t as hard as people make it out to be. Things only start to get confusing when he finds himself the target of a malevolent wraith. Good thing someone’s looking out for him though — because without Nighthunter Nik Ryder as his bodyguard he definitely won’t survive long in the twisting darkness of the supernatural underworld he’s tripped into.

Bound by Circumstance and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the book Nightbound and the rest of the Bloodbound series. Find out more [HERE].

Note: Circumstance only loosely follows the events and plotline of Nightbound, and features a separate antagonist, different character motivations, and further worldbuilding.

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Circumstance/series tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

The Fate intervenes.

[READ IT ON AO3]

“You were there — you were watching us at Prytania Street.”

“In a way, yes and no.”

“It can’t be both. I saw you there.”

“Yes, I was witness to the events of which you speak. But no, I was not there as you were there; on the physical plane. I bear witness to all things. That is my purpose and my burden.”

“You could have done something.”

“You are mistaken, halfling child.”

“Bullshit. That’s—That’s bullshit. Its an excuse to justify doing nothing!”

“If that is what you choose to believe I cannot stop you, only try to sway your mind.”

“Well you won’t.”

“The world’s belief that I am capable of more than giving testimony is a false one. I cannot change the course of what is to be, no more than you can. I see every outcome, every possibility — every path from the moment it is built reaching out into oblivion.

“Who walks those paths — who has the ability to forge them new or break the chain — that is up to the individual. Certain roads will always be taken, yes. But the forces making those decisions were here long before me and will exist long after I am gone.”

He’s angry. And because he’s angry he’s indignant — he doesn’t want to believe them. Not when they speak in the voice of a forgotten child or a lost lover or someone whose time has come yet they find themselves filled with only bitter regret.

Always with the same golden eyes.

The weight of his breath sends Taylor’s body into tremors of emotion. Things he knows all too well — despair, guilt, self-blame — and things he has no name for; might never have a name for in any human language.

They overwhelm him until they don’t. Until he can look at each and every face of The Fate and speak.

“I don’t remember. Why don’t I remember?”

It’s his voice, his tongue curling around the words formed on his lips. But they aren’t his. They’re just sort of pulled out of him like they were trapped deep in his belly on a string.

Words that come not from the mind but from some place deeper. Those dying embers he thinks may have once been called his soul.

The Fate turns their wrinkled face away.

He knows this emotion. Shame.

“Why don’t I remember?” he asks again.

Doesn’t know where he is, or how he got here, or what it all means. But like hell he’s going to move or be moved without an answer.

“I thought it would be kinder.”

Their new voice wavers. A new face looks back at Taylor — creases in a frown that will settle into lines of age eventually, but not quite yet; thinner lips, yet hands still youthful. They look so much like his mother it hurts.

Thought what would be kinder? What happened? Where is everyone? Where is Nik?

All very important questions. All answers he first wants, then craves, then needs in order to remember how to breathe.

Instead he just whispers a weary “please,” because they both know what it is he’s pleading for.

But The Fate is reluctant — that much is obvious. “I would rather you understand before I did.”

“Understand…?”

“That I am merely the storyteller. Not the book, not the author, just a voice reading from the pages.”

This again. Can they blame him for being skeptical? For thinking someone with a name like The Fate might have a say in the order of the universe, in who lives and who dies?

“If I tell you I believe you, will you give me back my memories?” Will you explain? Will it all make sense?

“Would you be lying to me, Taylor Hunter?”

“You’re The Fate — wouldn’t you know?” Then, met with only silence, he does the only thing that feels right. He just shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t — I don’t, okay? I’ve been asked to believe in a lot of impossible things lately, but this… this is more than that, and that makes it harder.”

Because if The Fate really has no say in the way things have been then that means they have no say in the way things end.

The Coven Elders do.

His friends do.

He does.

But not someone who could make it all better.

And that’s terrifying.

“So I don’t know,” he repeats, “and that’s my final answer.” Not the right or wrong answer, but the final one.

He’s met with a chilling reality when The Fate reaches out their hand and he takes it and feels home. The Fate doesn’t just look like his mother; they are wearing her face.

It’s a useless epiphany though.

Because he remembers.

What’s an extra hour or two?

The difference between life and death.

By the time he notices the familiar figure of The Fate standing just off stage left it’s too late.

The screams, the crackle and POP of a spotlight sending sparks showering down onto the stage, the heat and flames and smoke choking the breath out of him — those all came later.

First came the explosive bang of double doors opening at the back of the theatre. If there was ever an apt time for an actor to fumble their lines it was then.

He still hated Antoni, the prick, but gave credit where credit was due — a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it beat in between stanzas and Oberon was right back in the depths of his monologue.

Second was the gust of wind that turned heads — Taylor’s included — to the draft coming through the gaping doorway. It reeked of revelry and jaegerbombs with just a hint of despair.

Taylor was convinced that last bit was his imagination having a last-ditch effort to try and ruin his happiness. Stupid, stupid boy he was; turning back to the stage like that.

Third came thunk. thunk. thunk.

He could recall, if only vaguely, the rehearsal where Daphne suggested imitating the Globe Theatre in London. She wanted to engage with the audience as Puck and the director loved it.

Her last big entrance was from the back of the theatre, right — he’d forgotten.

Thunk. thunk. thunk.

Daphne came barreling down the sloping path — collided with the stage with wet noise.

Or… her head did.

And it rolled in classic horror-movie gothic to stare lifelessly at the audience. Eyes milky white, veins blackened and bulging under tissue paper skin.

What came next doesn’t matter. If the curtain caught fire before or after Theseus fainted from terror didn’t matter.

The only thing that mattered was the wretchedly familiar grotesque hovering in the entryway — the shadow it cast stretching long, mangled limbs out towards them.

The bloodwraith let out a screeching howl that shattered glass, incited fire, sent the entire space into a pitch darkness only to glow and flicker with hungry flames.

I’m sorry. His first and only thought.

Nothing else The Fate gave back to him mattered.

“Holy shit — am I dead?!”

Taylor uses the thought to grapple back onto the present and pull himself together. Doesn’t even think about whether or not he should be using that kind of language in front of a very very old supernatural being but okay maybe he’d been a little premature in the ‘nothing else’ department.

If he was dead that definitely mattered. Because if he was dead Nik was going to kill him.

When The Fate readjusts themselves — a refined and more calm way of saying ‘recovers from whiplash’ — they reassure him with a small shake of the head, silvery wisps on a balding head shaking out to perfect and natural curls. “No, you are not dead.”

“Oh thank god,” he whistles low, but its the relief that catches him by surprise. And not just because he doesn’t have to worry about being chewed out by a surly Nighthunter.

He’s actually relieved to be alive. Or at least not dead. One of those things he wouldn’t normally perturb the semantics over but given everything that’s happened it only seems right.

“Am I alive?”

“In a way.”

“That’s a yes or no question. Please let that be a yes or no question.”

It takes Taylor a moment (his brain is catching up as quick as it can, yeesh) but when it becomes clear The Fate, powerful ethereal being witness to everything until the end of time, is amusing themselves with his reactions he tries his best not to give any.

He fails, of course, but he tried his best.

“Yes, halfling child, you are alive.”

“And —” Nik? Elric? Vera? Cal-Kathy-Cadence? Garrus-Krom-Ivy? “— everyone else?”

“Is there one for whom your concern is greatest?” It sounds almost clinical; doesn’t help that they now sound eerily similar to his hormone therapy physician.

Maybe they hoped Taylor would have to think about it. Maybe they wanted to see what makes him tick.

Too bad. “I’m not picking which of my friends I care about the most, if that’s what weird all-knowing trope you’re going for.”

“Not even your father is placed above them?”

“I barely know the guy. That answer it for you?”

The Fate gives a “hmm” and a nod. “Forgive me, I have never had such luxuries.”

“Family, friends?”

“Those as well. I see the bonds of the material made; thousands, millions in the spaces between heartbeats. But I do not feel them. I wish that I could.”

It rings wrong in his bones. Makes his blood curdle in his veins. “If you’re trying to justify preying on my fears to learn emotions, I’d say stop.”

“Is there a threat to be made?”

“No.” He’s not stupid — but he’s not just going to stand there and take it, either. “You didn’t answer my question. Are my friends — all of them — alive too?”

He can tell The Fate hesitates as one last test of wills. Still it doesn’t stop him from clapping a hand over his mouth when they finally nod.

“Thank god…”

They’d thought it would be safe. That they had time—however brief—to try and make the most of things; time together, the city in all her glory.

Taylor doesn’t realize they’ve been walking together, a simple man and Fate, until he stops and looks out of one of the large windows lining the hallway.

Outside is beautiful. It’s a lacking word but the only one that comes to mind. It’s the kind of sunset that people write entire poems and songs about because they can’t think of a simple one-word description either. So it’ll do.

He drinks it in — the vibrant sunset that reaches long tendril fingers of pinks and oranges across the sky and continues on and on and on into an endless horizon. Bright enough to illuminate dust motes hovering practically immobile in the still air around him. Even his heavy and awestruck breathing doesn’t disturb them.

Like he isn’t even there.

And it occurs to him like an afterthought that if he left this place to commune with that sherbet sky he’d never find the end. There’s a peace in that.

He could ask the obvious; where are we, how did we get here, what does it all mean, but instead he focuses on the things he does know rather than what he doesn’t. “You brought us here.”

“Yes.”

And he hadn’t planned it at all; the trap The Fate has so willingly fallen into. But there it is.

“That means you intervened.” He turns away from the world beyond only because he has to. Catches their ever-changing face in the sunset’s light. “I thought you couldn’t intervene.”

When they finally answer the words are chosen with care; careful not to reveal too much, careful not to make promises unable to be kept. “I did not change the course of what is to come; that is beyond me. But it is not beyond you, and so the lines blur. If you could be guided, or given more time, or protected from a death thought previously inevitable, then perhaps you could enact that change with your newfound advantages.”

His mouth twists ruefully. “You’re telling me you found a loophole in destiny?”

“Of a sort.”

“And you choose now to do it? That’s…” For once in his life Taylor thinks before he speaks; to his benefit. “Unless this isn’t the first time you’ve done it.”

The Fate looks at him with the eyes of a child again; a disturbingly profound wisdom looking him over as if in a new light. “There are very few places in the puzzle of time where I may fit.”

“So all that stuff you said about being an observer — what you’re saying is that’s a load of crap.”

“Would I have told you then what little I could do, would you have believed my interference so small?”

They’ve got a point. “No.”

“Then you see why these revelations take time.”

Maybe he does. That doesn’t change the truth, though. Doesn’t change the thoughts racing through his mind; thoughts of the dozens, hundreds of things that have happened that could have been changed in some little way. Changed had they had more time, or if they’d known more.

Or if he hadn’t been protected.

If Nik hadn’t been in the graveyard, Taylor would be dead. He was there, and at the bar, because…

“You hired Nik to protect me. You were the one on the other end of the phone line.”

“Yes.”

“Did it make a difference? No—No it couldn’t have. You said you couldn’t change it. You —”

“All that is meant to unfold still will. If not as swiftly as the witches had hoped.”

“So all you did was prolong the inevitable.”

“All I did?” his question played back to him in a voice rusted with time, incredulity on The Fate’s new leathery features, “You think so narrowly. What have you changed, what have you incited?”

“The Elders are still —”

“What. have. you. done.”

“I —” Is it any wonder he falters under the intensity of that stare; the weight of their words bearing down on him heavier than anything he’s tried to carry before?

Fine. What has he done?

He’s hurt Garrus by bringing Elric to the show. 

He’s brought Garrus and Krom closer.

He’s put Vera in danger. 

But given her a chance to reconcile with her mother.

He’s the reason Cal was cast out from his pack. 

And the reason Donny is still alive.

Stop it, Taylor wants to say, because there’s no way that annoying voice in his head contradicting everything he’s thinking is him. It’s them — they’re in his mind.

But he’s heard dozens of voices from dozens of their lips; none of them have sounded like him.

And only his voice is ringing between his ears.

“If I’d died in the cemetery that night — would any of those things have happened? Be honest.”

“I see all outcomes; the realms in which they did happen and those where they did not.”

“Okay, so —”

“But because of you, Taylor Hunter, they did. And that cannot be undone.”

Taylor reels at the very thought of it. Talk about daring to disturb the universe. But all those things — they’re speaking of the past, of the present.

What about the future?

“Was it enough, though?” Was it enough to make a difference? Enough to save them? Enough to win?

Instead of answering with words The Fate reaches up, out. Doesn’t let up even though Taylor recoils (for good reason) at the weight of permanence that hangs around them in an unseen aura. According to The Fate themselves there are versions of this story where he dies; is already dead.

And knowing that doesn’t scare him nearly as much as being touched by someone who has seen it happen.

“Those who seek to change destiny always fail,” — something so morbid and hopeless shouldn’t sound so reassuring — “because it will always lie out of their reach. They never understand how to bring it closer. Now you do.”

The warmth of the sunset beyond prickles the back of Taylor’s neck. But even basking in the glow as they have been The Fate’s fingers are cold as ice.

Cold with the weight of the sorrows they’ve seen.

Wherever they are stretches out infinitely on either side of them. He hasn’t seen another soul this entire time. Knows somewhere deep inside himself that no matter how many halls he sees, no matter how many doors he opens, they reside here together. Alone.

So why then does he whisper? Who the hell knows.

“If you’ve seen all the terrible ways this could end… why do it? Why try?”

“Because,” they smile and suddenly Taylor sees why every other part of them is cold; to compensate, “I have hope.”

How, how can they have hope when they know what’s coming? “Hope for what?”

“Hope that you will prove me wrong.” You can change what is to come.

“Talk about your unrealistic expectations.” How?

“It has been done before — however rare.” You already know how.

But he doesn’t.

He doesn’t.

He —

He watches Cal with his arm over Vera’s shoulder — holding her close, pressing his mouth into her hair more a gesture of comfort than a kiss. To remind her the warmth of another body is close. That she isn’t alone.

A bright light flashes in front of his eyes, blinds him. Taylor tries to pull back but the EMT squeezes his shoulder and keeps him in place. “Not yet, bud, just try and follow the light okay?”

It doesn’t really make sense to keep staring at the thing that makes it harder to see but he does what he’s told. Follows the pen light left to right and up to down because that’s what they need of him right now.

“Your friends said you took a pretty hard hit.” He can feel the gloved hand on the back of his head feeling around for a lump, a cut, blood — anything.

Definitely more than the nothing he gets that’s for sure.

“Do you remember anything like that?”

No, he doesn’t. He only remembers silvery curls and an insistent understanding that he’s capable of more than he thinks. But those thoughts aren’t his.

It’s with reluctance that the EMT lets him jump from the back of the ambulance with the closest thing to a clear bill of health.

“Rook!”

Thank god he hears Nik only when there isn’t a stethoscope on his chest because surely his heart stops beating.

Taylor turns, doesn’t have the time to brace himself before he’s inhaling leather. Isn’t smothered by it at all — in fact it helps calm him more than expected.

Then Nik’s looking him over — touching the back of his head and holding up his arms; looking for cuts and bruises and any sign that he’s less than one hundred-percent okay. “Did you get checked out? Why the hell would they let you go? If they’d seen the way your head bounced off that concrete wall they’d be thinkin’ differently. Fuckin’ hell, they…” Just like the EMT he feels nothing, though. But this time Taylor isn’t let off the hook so easily.

“What the hell? There ain’t even a bump.”

“I hit my head?” he asks; realizes it’s the wrong thing to say when Nik’s eyes widen.

“You don’t remember? Shit — we’re gettin’ you to the hospital.”

“I don’t need a hospital.”

“I beg to differ!”

“If you’d —” Taylor actually has to smack the flurry of Nik’s concerned hands away, “— just stop for a sec’? Please!”

Even in the chaos of grief and seemingly fruitless attempts to restore order Taylor is loud. Manages to get more than a few heads turned his way — some that look between him and Nik in rising suspicion. He takes the man’s hand and pulls him off to the side before any of it becomes a thing.

They find the one police car without the overhead lights flashing. Away from the crowd swarming, from people who secretly wished they could be paid to learn what happened and grieve for it. Despite being entirely removed from the situation they are moths; the cruisers that bathe them in reds and blues are their flame.

Nik wastes no time. “You’re starting to scare me Taylor,” and he believes it with or without Nik using his name, “if somethin’ happened to you, somethin’ medical, we gotta —”

“Nik,” he insists again, “stop talking.” Cups his hands along a chiseled jaw and brings the man down to kiss him like that’ll explain everything. In a perfect world, maybe.

But even annoying as he’s being right now Taylor can’t hold it against him. He cares — in his own weird way sure — but he does.

They part for air but he allows strong hands to keep him close.

“I only just got back,” he mumbles almost breathlessly, “I don’t need you jumping down my throat.”

“Wait—what?”

“I —”

There’s a tickle on his forehead as Nik’s brow furrows. “No I heard ya. But you didn’ — we were here the whole —” Lucky for them both when, somewhere in the middle of those half-formed explanations and racing thoughts, he remembers that he’s Nik Ryder; Nighthunter.

“Got back from where?”

“Not here.”

“Yes, here.”

“Nik.”

Taylor would like to believe he relents because of trust, but knows the far more likely explanation is exhaustion. But he does and that’s what matters. “Okay Rook, okay. Your turn to call the shots.”

“First we need to get everyone together. I saw Vera and Cal, but…”

“Kathy an’ Cade were still givin’ statements last I checked. Iv’, Krom, and Garrus hightailed it before the cops showed up. Wait—you’re really sayin’ you don’t remember any of this?”

“Stay focused. Where’s Elric?”

“With them. He was out cold, hurt bad from the looks of it.”

Taylor’s heart straight-up stops beating. “Did the wraith —?”

“No Rook, no he, uh, he took a fallin’ rigging for you. Pushed you right outta the way and that’s how you hit your head. I really don’t like —”

“Later. We can’t go back to the Shift.”

“Well there we agree.”

“There’s my place, but —”

“No, nowhere connected to any of us. The Elders could’a hexed the place.”

“Suggestions, maybe?”

“Well damn Rook — not like I’ve got a map of secret warded places I can just pull outta my ass—actually…” Nik changes his tune so fast Taylor gets whiplash. But he knows the thoughtful look in those dark eyes well enough by now that he dares to have just a little bit of hope.

Why try?

Because I have hope.

By the time he’s pulled out of his brief recollection of The Fate, Nik is pulling him by the hand back into the crowd. They spot the beacon of Cadence’s towering head over everyone else and find the others still recuperating on the curb where he stands guard.

Cal spots Taylor and immediately tries to stand — but he’s leaning far too much to the right to be moving so fast. Katherine catches him, eases him back down with admonishing words.

“What did the EMT just say?”

“Yeah yeah, I ain’t a cub Kathy.”

“Then pay attention next time — to what they’re saying, not to their asses.”

Vera reaches for Taylor like a source of comfort. He takes her hand and squeezes; feels the warmth of her through blue medical latex in a way her usual silk doesn’t allow. Wordlessly she holds up a long scrap of familiar fabric as explanation.

Whatever Cadence had planned on saying, it catches on his tongue to be swallowed back down. Something makes his face turn away with a crinkle in his nose.

“No offense Taylor, but you smell like mold on vellum.”

“Huh?” Cal sniffs the air and comes to a similar conclusion. “Reminds me of the shed Kristof keeps his pelts in — like… dust and mothballs.”

“Uh…” what the hell does somebody say to that, “I’m sorry?”

“Just thought you ought to know.”

“Actually — speakin’ of all that research you do, Smith,” everyone looks at Nik like he’s grown a second head, but no one can match Cadence’s bewilderment; since that has less than nothing to do with the attack that’s left them reeling.

“What about it?”

“Any chance you know if the Saint Louis has still got that, uh, preservation sigil still in the stones?”

“Sure. That whole block of Chartres does.”

Katherine’s eyes narrow suspiciously. “Ryder, what are you thinking?” But he ignores her carelessly.

“Includin’ your office?”

“Yes but — Oh.” Epiphany crosses his face and makes his glasses slide down to the tip of his nose.

And though it may be just as annoying to be on the outs of something Nik, Cadence, and even Katherine with her slow nod of understanding seem to know that the rest don’t — there’s a comfort to it. Like they’re all back in the Shift shotgunning ideas on a chalkboard and not scrambling for a place to hide.

“I hadn’t thought of that,” the way Katherine says it though — it’s like a self-directed insult, “why didn’t I think of that?”

“Think we’ll all fit?” asks Nik.

Cadence gives everyone a calculating look, seemingly taking measurements. “I don’t see why not, so long as you don’t mind a bit of clutter.”

Kathy doesn’t even bother covering her snort, the derisive “Ha!” that earns her something like the vampire version of a pout. She remains unfazed. “That’s putting it a little more than lightly…”

“It’s not that bad. You’re making me out to be a hoarder.”

“Let’s just hope no one’s claustrophobic.”

“Kathy!”

Admittedly Taylor doesn’t know a lot about vampires besides the basics; immortal, super fast, super strong, blood-is-life. But there’s more, isn’t there? There has to be.

For example — werewolves are pack animals. He can guess that vampires are less so. So what fills the void?

Because from what he’s seeing before him… they’re nesting creatures.

This is a nest, right? Please someone say this is a nest, that this is normal behavior. That somewhere else in the city Isadora de la Rosa is just chilling in a giant pile of stuff like some sultry dragoness and Cadence is just following some sort of undead instinct.

Otherwise this guy needs help. Like — Hoarders-level help.

Ryder’s reaction does nothing to ease his discomfort; giving an impressed nod as his eyes sweep the room; the piles… and piles… and piles…

“You’ve cleaned up,” he moves an old filing box with little ceremony to rustle himself up a place to sit; apparently its every butt for itself here, “and is that two walls I can see?”

There are two seats not actively serving as storage and Katherine beelines for it. Cal gets there first with some semblance of victory — though it’s short-lived.

“You’re in my spot.”

“Grow up. First come first serve.”

She repeats herself in an actual growl. “You’re in my spot, Lowell.”

Arms crossed over his chest, he snorts a derisive “I don’t see your name on it,” only to fumble for purchase when she grabs the chair-back with both hands and spins it around.

Her name actually is written on the back. And in very large, blocky permanent marker.

She doesn’t need to tell him a third time. Settles in like it didn’t even happen. Out of everyone gathered, Cadence included, she’s the only one who looks like she really belongs.

“Three guesses why that is.” She says to Nik. It doesn’t take the man long to connect the dots.

“I’d’ve given some money to catch a glimpse of spit-shined Raines in this disaster.”

“Enough!” The vampire groans; finishes clearing up the last of what appears to be an outdoor patio table for the rest of them to prop against. “Unless by some miracle my—admittedly disorganized—attempt at scouring centuries’ worth of documentation in my so-far fruitless pursuit of an identity is the key to vanquishing the threat at hand.

“If so then by all means, continue on!”

It doesn’t help that the awkward silence is broken only when a towering stack of loose papers slides passed the tipping point and collapses somewhere unseen.

“Fuck.”

He accepts his defeat and takes up the chair beside Kathy with a surprising amount of dignity.

But his tirade served more than just a single purpose. It reminds Taylor of why they had to find somewhere to regroup, why it had been necessary in the first place.

You already know how, The Fate had said. And with a surety that had blurred the boundaries of whatever reality they had been in while talking outside of time and space.

Cadence’s mess isn’t the answer.

But someone not-Taylor in the room just might be.

“Vera…”

You already know. And the first thing he sees when he comes back to himself is Vera crying on the curb. That’s not a coincidence. In fact he feels a sharp, almost icy clarity when his train of thought switches tracks.

When he remembers the last time she cried and knows — just knows — that everything going forward isn’t random chance. It’s all meant to be.

Wordlessly they clasp hands. If before they were only doing this together and for Kristin, the same can’t be said now.

Taylor begins with a soft “I’m sorry,” because what he’s going to ask her is hard but there’s no way around it; he tries to be kind because she deserves that much at the very least, “but I’m gonna need you to tell me… tell us, I guess… what exactly you meant when you said you, uh, recognized the bloodwraith.”

Where’s a falling stack of papers when you need one?

Directly following another attack isn’t the best time to ask something that heavy. Everyone’s thinking it, but either lacks the guts or has enough brains not to speak it aloud.

The longer they wait the less time they have. If their minutes in the hourglass aren’t borrowed already.

Taylor can’t imagine the amount of courage it takes for her to share. She’d already been one sneeze away from “no no never mind, I don’t wanna bother you with it, let it go please; for me” back in the apartment. He recalls a brief flash of relief when they were interrupted. Though that didn’t last long given the news.

He’s there, you know, if she wants a hand to hold. Hesitates that hand over her shoulder as he watches the woman close in on herself… and lets it fall.

By the time she’s ready Cadence has ducked out and returns with a tray of water glasses and steaming mugs of fragrant teas. Three sleeves of soda crackers once abandoned are now their equivalent of a replenishing snack after a long journey.

All of it a little too mundane for the conversation at hand.

Vera gives herself a few shaky breaths — and begins.

“You ever been to one’a those big family reunions; the kind where you don’t know more than half’a the people showin’ up but it’s a birthday or a funeral or the like and you don’t really have a say in the matter?”

Literal crickets.

Even when she looks at Cal for backup he shakes his head and offers a shrug as an apology. “The Pack may be big but we’re tight. It’s impossible not to know someone, even if it ain’t a face but a scent.”

“But we can imagine.” Katherine makes a ‘continue’ gesture without bothering to mask the haste. “Keep going.”

Vera does.

“You’re wrong there, Kathy. No’ne who ain’t born a Reimonenq can really get what happens when you get more than a dozen’a us in the same room. All with the same blood in our veins but any opportunity to marry out the family, to change the name with somethin’ more bindin’ than just a court order — they take it.

“Last one I went to was ma Mémé’s funeral. Nawlins funerals, you know how they are —” only this time Taylor’s the sole sore thumb but no one stops to explain, “— and since she ran the Reimonenq Clan everyone who once carried the name or could have done was bound by duty to attend.”

Wistful memory clouds her eyes for a long moment. Whatever memory it is can’t be a happy one, not by the tick in her brow. “Met my uncle for the first time there. I didn’ even know Momma had any siblings — and here come up walkin’ two. They could’a been any random strangers on the street but they were huggin’ me and tellin’ me about seein’ me as a baby and…”

Katherine makes a not-so-subtle noise and shifts in her chair until it squeaks loud enough for Cal to flinch. It’s her chair, bears her name. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

Before she can say anything Cadence tactfully intervenes.

“So sorry about that; the chair drowned Kathy out. I could be wrong — but I think she was about to ask the relevance of this story and the wraith.”

Vera nods with a startling lack of apology. “If I could skirt around it I would. But every way I’ve thought about… about how I felt when I looked it in the eyes? This is the only way I can make it make sense.”

“It’s okay Vee,” says Taylor, “say what you have to.” And if he doesn’t mind her taking her time because it gets him a better chance of reading her inside, of understanding not just the words on her lips but the ones on her soul, he definitely isn’t going to mention it.

“I could see that they were my blood. Hell they were the spittin’ image of Ton—of Momma before she took over ma Mémé’s operations. The shady… smoky kind. But I didn’t know ‘em. I was five weeks away from my move to New York—I didn’t want to know ‘em.”

“Did they have the…?” She looks at Ryder sharply, watches him mime his hands without rhyme or reason. Her nostrils flare in anger.

“No. Turns out the Reimonenq Curse is a picky lit’le thing; picks the first born — or the only born, in my case. I got why she didn’t keep in contact when I found that out.

“I didn’ know why it bugged me s’a much until later. ‘Cause I just couldn’t give rhyme or reason to how I could see so much’a myself in stranger’s eyes.”

A hush falls over the group. Within it — an understanding. No longer with the need to ask Vera to tie her story together because she’s actually a lot more intuitive than even Taylor previously gave her credit for.

And now those tears of hers — always justified, always — they’re more than that. They’re understood.

Vera had looked into the eyes of the bloodwraith. What she had seen was far worse than simple familiarity.

She’d seen a part of herself in the rotting void of its skull. Recognized something hereditary in scraps of rotting flesh stuck in the gaps between its mouthful of fanged teeth.

And she’s still fucking standing, she’s still sane?

Not that there was any competition but Vera Reimonenq was definitely just crowned the strongest of them all in a landslide victory.

She gives them each individual looks. As if daring any of them to try and play Devil’s advocate. But why would they? You don’t fake something that soul-crushingly awful.

“There’s more.”

Cal kicks back on the floor with a groan. “Any chance there isn’t?” He’s the only one who could get away with it though.

“I wish that were the case. I’d been tryin’ to find the right time to bring it up — turns out it just needed to be brought up for me.”

I’m sorry, says way Taylor pulls her in for a one-armed hug.

It ain’t your fault, replies the last weary quirk of her lips.

“I ain’t the only one.”

“Tonya,” supplies Cadence, and Vera’s wobbling bottom lip breaks all their hearts in unison.

“Yeah—Yeah Momma she… she felt it too. I could see it in her eyes. She won’t spare it a thought but I don’ believe in coincidences anymore. She an’ I both feelin’ the way we did, then that thing’s touch takin’ away her Curse —”

“Mary Mother of Christ!”

The vampire stands so fast his chair goes flying into a stack of boxes — lucky for them all whatever contents are heavy enough to stay standing.

At first Katherine looks worried beside him, though it dulls quickly into exasperation. “Folks and faes I give you the Drama King…”

“Not the bloody time.” The look in those ruby eyes is almost manic — just like they had been when Cade had tried infodumping on them at the Shift. Only this might be slightly more relevant — hopefully.

“Care to share?” Cal drawls.

Cadence pays him no mind; focuses only on Vera and gets her attention in turn. There’s almost anticipation in the way he whispers, “You figured it out, didn’t you?”

“Well I wasn’t sure — not until now. You knew him?”

“I had the misfortune.”

“And you were… around when the Coven retaliated.”

“Like I said,” he wipes the lenses of his glasses with such convenient timing he could only be avoiding meeting her eyes, “I had the misfortune.”

It isn’t long after that they realize no one else is even close to catching up to them. A silent back and forth emerges Cadence as the lucky soul burdened with explanation.

“We’ve been so focused on the what of the bloodwraith,” there’s no possible way he knows what stack to dig through, it has to be a diversion to remove himself from the heart of the matter; doesn’t stop him from nudging Nik aside and rifling through an open filing cabinet, “what it is, what it seeks, what it can do.”

Nik grumbles at Taylor’s side. “And that ain’t important?”

“No no — it is. But it… it gave us tunnel vision. Made us docile; we stopped asking questions. Aha —”

Cadence pries free a packet; the contents of which Taylor can’t see even if he squints.

But the text must not matter because he focuses instead on a carefully cut newspaper article attached to the front. The same old paper as his news spread on the war — ink the same faded black.

He can barely look at it, though. Offers it to Kathy’s awaiting hand. “The fire was too great not to make the paper. Carlo personally ensured the cause of the blaze was covered up but no one could keep the deaths quiet. The city only knew three young women perished — not that they were the Garden Coven’s newest blooded witches. And because that fact needed to be concealed at all costs… there were no consequences for him to face.”

“For who to face?” Taylor’s afraid to ask but someone’s gotta do it.

Vera’s voice cracks when she answers.

“My ancestor — Derek Reimonenq. The Bloody Hand.”

“And the tortured soul the Coven used to bind the bloodwraith to this world.”

[k-renne]

Flip Zimmerman P*rnstar AU

thank you for inspiring me! giving some credit where its due to @thecurlycaptain also tagging @adamsnackdriver, @oh-adam, @dreamboatdriver

Everyone recognized Flip Zimmerman was in the seventies, with his body and his dick, and his slick words, he gave a new meaning to pornstar

You found out about him on accident, you were renting a film and instead of the movie you wanted to watch you got Bad Cops with Big Dicks, and geez you were thankful for watching that one alone. 

You were so flustered when you realized just what you were watching, already captured by Flip’s handsome face, his smooth voice telling the overly horny girl, “Baby, how about we just forget about this arrest and you suck my cock.” Your cheeks were on fire when you heard those words from his rich voice, so filthy it made you clench. And when the girl replied back in a breathy voice, “Oh Officer Jackhammer, I’ll do anything.” You were wishing it was you

Ever since that day, a fire was lit in you. It was like your sexuality was awakened, even as an adult who understood sex you never were exposed to it like this, and fuck you were turned on. Of course, it would be just your luck to run into the man that fueled your masturbation fantasies

Flip would eat girls out unlike any guy at the time, he loved women and he loved pussy. He was famous for his mustache rides

Flip saw you first, as soon as you walked in his eyes were on you, discreetly checking you out. You didn’t know it, but you were his target for the night

You didn’t realize that the Flip Zimmerman had his eyes on you, in your own little world deeply thinking about something, missing the way this man was eyeing you like his next meal.

It wasn’t until he came right next to you, “Mind if I sit here?” He asked you, his rich and familiar voice alighting your senses afire. And when you looked up at him, you quickly looked away.

He was so much more handsome than the grainy projector screen portrayed, and with the smell of his cologne in your senses, his height looming over you, and the same goddamm smirk as when he’d spout his filthy words - you were gone for him

Flip chuckles to him, eating up your flusteredness “Just relax baby, we’re all here to have a good time,” He says smoothly, his hand just lightly brushing your shoulder.

He made his intentions obvious right away with his flirting, getting bolder and bolder throughout the night. He was determined to get into your pants, make you scream for him like he knew he could. “You recognize me don’t you, then you know what I can do for you...I’m dying for a taste you know. Bet that little pussy of you would taste just right on my tongue.” Flip licked his lips all too slowly, the tip of his tongue flickering just to tease you.

“Oh-I don’t know about that, I’ve never...” You start of to explain shyly, looking down at the bar counter.

Flip presses you, “What baby, never what? Never had a man eat your sweet pussy?” He leans in, practically purring with excitement as he asks you

“N-no not just that.” You felt so hot, so embarrassed. You didn’t want to tell him about just how much experience you lacked, especially with the fact he knew you recognized him. “Imavirgin” You say as quickly as you can under your breath

“Wait-shit, did you just say virgin baby?” Flips eyes widened, almost spitting out his drink. And then he eyes you again, a rare blush on his cheeks. He looks at you for a moment as he gathers his next words, his lips slightly parted as he reels in his shock. “Then maybe I could help you with that one, show you how to feel good,” He says huskily, hand running up your arm

“Flip-“, “Yes?” He hums, that smirk on his face. “I can’t...I’m not ready-shit just meeting you is so overwhelming.” You explain, covering your cheeks with your hands

“Aww someone’s a little starstruck,” Flip coos. “It’s alright baby, we can take things slow,” Flip pushes on, still determined to have you

“I’m sorry, I like you. But I can’t do it the first time with someone I just met, it’s too much.” You say quietly.

“Okay then, I’ll take you to dinner,” Flip nods at you, his hand on the counter next to yours. He’s never asked a girl out for dinner like this a long time, never invested his time in someone like this. But he felt drawn to you, and something about you excited him a way that was so refreshing and new that he wanted to chase you. “Do you like burgers?” He added.

He’s been pulling out every single trick in the book to try and charm you, and you’ve resisted him! he thought-maybe you just weren’t interested, but fuck! He was so soooo wrong, you’re just an innocent sweet little thing and he’s the big bad wolf like in an actual porno

When Flip isn’t around to take you out to dinner, or when you’ve had a long day, he’ll call you. He’d go out of his way to see you in person when he could, trying to use the excuse that he wanted someone to see this new movie with him, or that he accidentally got a second coffee. But, even when he couldn’t see you he’d call. Almost every day, the sweet sound of your voice brought him a lot of comfort and he loved hearing about you day

One time, he doesn’t exactly call at the best time. And dammit, you wished you never picked it up but you did because you’d grown into the habit of it hoping it’d be from him. “Hey baby, how are you doing?” Flip asked in his sexy drawl

And it was bad because you had your hands down your pants, and a very familiar video up in the background “That’s right rookie, fucking take my cock,” Flips voice said in the background.

On the phone, Flip cursed, “Fucking shit, if you missed me that bad you should’ve told me. Fuck-I can be over in fifteen, no ten.” Flip rasped over the phone, and you already being so turned on with what you were seeing in front of you let out a whimper

“Ah fuck, no I can’t do it. Can’t drive like this, just thinking of you watching me touching yourself. Bet just hearing me talk is turning you on, fuck you’re so filthy aren’t you?” He teased, the fumbling of his belt in the background.

“N-no you can’t come over. Ah I should probably hang up.” You said breathlessly

“No no baby, no you’re not shutting me out. Fuck you’re so fucking hot right now don’t you understand? You better not fucking stop, I wanna hear you cum while you watch me fuck that girl and imagine it’s me fucking you.” Flip rambles, as he begins to stroke himself. “Fuck I bet your pussy would feel even better, wish I was fucking you right now baby.”

Flip continues to sweet talk you, keeping you on the line with his honeyed voice till you cum on your fingers. And he makes his own noises as he jerks off, grunts and little huffs that you’ve never heard from him before, that you wonder if he’s held back.

“You know you were as soon as you heard my voice, just meant to be,” he hums, in his post orgasm bliss. And he hadn’t even fucked you yet at this point

When you’re ready for him, when you can’t take the tension anymore, you take things into your own hands. You get a lacy see through teddy, in an innocent soft pink. And with the keys to Flips place, you set yourself up with the pretty lingerie on right on his bed

Flip knows you’re here from his car, and calls out to you as soon as he gets inside. “Baby where are you, decide you couldn’t resist me?”

“Oh fuck-baby you’re trying to kill me,” Flip growls at you, hands coming up to pull at his hair. “Is this all for me? Shit you look so good in that number...” His eyes bug out as he stares at you, licking his lips hungrily

Slowly he stalks towards the bed, unbuttoning his shirt and getting ready to pounce. He crawls over you, kissing up along your stomach in between your breasts.

You’ve made out with him on the couch before this sure, even grinded on him with his guidance, but it never went this far.

“I can see your tits baby, this little thing can’t hide ‘em from me,” He smirks, before wrapping his lips around a nipple. His saliva only makes the fabric more transparent much to his delight, and he continues to nip and kiss at you over the lingerie until you’re squirming for him

How eagerly he pries apart your legs, moaning when he gets a whiff of your pussy. He presses his nose against your clit as he kisses over the wet lace, lapping up your slick as much as he can.

He gets impatient and tears the lingerie to shreds, “Flip!” You yell at him, but he just laughs. “Baby I’ll buy you as much lingerie as you want don’t even worry.”

The soft teasing kisses he leaves along your inner thighs, before making his way to your center. And then he’s shoving his tongue right on in, maneuvering it so deftly it makes you scream and writhe for him. You never thought you could make any of these noises until Flip had you singing them

“That’s it baby, cum right on my tongue,” He encourages you, his words slightly muffled against your pussy. The vibrations of it shoot right to your core, and between that and the friction of his moustache against you, he makes you cum easily.

But that’s not the first time, next he’s showing you just how to stroke his cock, smirking as you look in awe how it drips precum into your hand, getting even harder and bigger. “You’re even bigger in real life,” You say breathlessly.

Flip beams at you, “Baby you just know exactly what I like to hear don’t you?” He leans in to give a quick kiss to your cheek. All throughout he’s leaving soft touches, on your hips and on your guys. Though he isn’t afraid to roughly grab your ass or give you a wet filthy kiss, your cum still on his moustache

You’ve seen him in action sure, but actually being on the receiving end of Flip Zimmerman’s cock is a whole other story. He takes you missionary the first time. How his hips rock into you, each thrust controlled, hitting all the right spots with very little discomfort. There’s a reason he’s a pro

And he’s getting so worked up himself, it makes you feel a certain way that you can make a man who makes porn feel this good, “Fuck this is the tightest pussy I’ve ever had-ah shit it’s so perfect. Anything else is gonna be a disappointment.” Flip groaned, squeezing his eyes shut in pleasure

He’s grunts and curses when he cums inside you, rambling on about how he’s gonna fill you up with his load, more and more hot cum spurting inside you. “Been saving that just for you baby,” He purrs, nosing your cheek as he rests on his elbows

And he’s got such a shit eating grin on his face when he watches his cum drool from your pussy, not caring about the mess as he pulls you into his arms. Though, once he catches his breath he makes sure to be attentive to your needs

“Was that good for you baby? Did you enjoy that? Didn’t sound like you were faking all this cute noises you made.” He smiles down at you, his hand cupping your cheek. When you just nod, all blissed out you can hardly speak, Flips smile widens. “Good, because we’re going to be doing that again, there’s still a lot you have to learn rookie.”

“Your my girl now baby, don’t forget it...” he nuzzles you, hand on your ass

[laughing-with-god]

My Kpop Unpopular Opinons

The ‘K’ in Kpop is there for a reason....

It stands for Korean. Not American. I might be the only one who gets annoyed by how much Kpop groups are outsourcing to America. Mainly BTS since they got the farthest. But it honestly has become such a poisonous thing to me. I am half Korean and my family is very patriotic of their beautiful country. And it’s almost a colonization mindset or cultural appropriation to take a countries’ gem (such as Kpop) and demand it be taken over to YOUR country, to demand that idols learn YOUR language, to say that because Bts got praise in America they MUST be the best Kpop group. Is America the only country that matters? Should new Kpop groups try hard to appeal to Americans while their fellow Koreans take a back burner? Why can’t you let Korea have its own thing and enjoy it without trying to make it into something that’s easier for you to digest?

Stop Supporting Youtube Channels who are Using Kpop for Clout

The Talko, Watch mojo, Reaction channels and even fucking TRISHA PAYTAS. Youtubers be using Kpop for clout bc they know it’s gotten popular lately. But you hoes are the demand to the supply. STOP GIVING THESE HOES CLICKS. on a regular day, you’d hate a fake fan but are all ready to watch some YouTuber who ran out of ideas use BTS to get some views. And the info that The Talko And Watch mojo use isn’t even groundbreaking! They’d be like “did you know that Suga’s real name is Yoongi?” sis....no. Support Kpop news sites that actually are about the Korean industry as a whole and not just getting your view by using BTS.

We need to talk about the Kpop industry being ‘problematic’ and ‘slave contracts’

Idols signed up for this lifestyle. They signed up for restricted freedom, dieting, practicing a lot and working almost 24/7. Am I saying it’s right? Not necessarily...I think if an idol is fainting, very underweight and not getting their 8 hours every night then obvi the company/management needs to be handled. But we need to calm the witch hunt for some companies bc your oppa/unnie is fully aware what their career entails. And instead of coming for SM or any particular company, strive for reformation of the whole industry.

Idols are sometimes problematic....and we need to call it out

This is mainly aimed towards the problematic comments some idols have made about skin tone. I’ve seen a lot of people become upset by Wendy’s blackcent or the blackface history of Mamamoo’s past and they have every right to be. A lot of fans come to their defense and say things like “in Korea, pale skin is valued more than dark skin. (Idol name) just didn’t know better.” Well...if they didn’t know better then we should teach them better! And don’t attack other fans who are genuinely hurt about the comments/actions. I watched an unpopular opinion video and they said “people who are quick to call an idol problematic are annoying.” I’m sorry but who are you to tell someone what they can and cannot be offended by? Esp when there are TONS of black/dark skinned Kpop fans whose very skin was just insulted....

Anaylsis videos/posts about your fav otp is problematic.

Calm down. It could be real and it could not be. I already talked about this on my blog before so I’m not gonna beat a dead horse. But you’re forcing a narrative to satisfy your little fantasy.

BTS SHOULD GET MILLITARY TIME LIKE EVERYONE ELSE

In Korea, every man has to serve millitary time. It’s downright disrespectful to cherry pick a guy bc he’s famous and exempt him from his duties. Really? How the fuck should the rest of the Korean male population in boot camps feel that Jungkook got to skip his time bc he just so happens to have tons of fangirls who want to hop on his dick? Does fame get you everywhere? Is that the message you want to spread? Disgusting. If I see that in my feed, I’m blocking you hoes.

2NE1 and Big Bang ran so BlackPink and Bts could walk.

New Kpop fans want to act like Black Pink and BTS invented the fucking wheel. Wrong. Big Bang was a big inspiration to Bts and they were part of the first bridge between the western world and Kpop. Without Big Bang, Kpop wouldn’t be as big in America/other western countries as it is now. And if that didn’t happen, then Bts would loose the majority of its fan base now. And black pink is literally a copy of 2ne1, it’s not the girls fault but YG itself who knew they lost a big girl group. 2NE1 literally invented the girl crush concept and also made big leaps in the western world. Give credit where it’s due. Thank you, next.

Seungri shouldn’t have quit being an idol, he should’ve quit his businesses.

His businesses were the reason his whole scandal began. I’m not saying I was going to support him if he continued making music but like to come out and say “everyone, as punishment I’m quitting being an idol instead of the businesses that actually caused all this drama!” is the most un self-aware response.

If you stan one group, you aren’t a Kpop stan.

Korean Pop. Not BTS pop. Not BlackPink pop. Not EXO pop. Sis.....it’s like saying you know Spanish bc you can say ‘hola’. That’s a MOLESCULE to what the genre actually holds.

Big Hit not Allowing girl trainees is highkey sexist.

Yes, I’m aware of what happened to the one girl group that came from Big Hit. But honestly that’s a funny excuse. One bad thing happened and now he’s gonna ban all females? I remember this tweet that resided with me about the Empire actor faking a hate crime. It said “If one faked hate crime is enough to make you question and judge all the others....it’s almost as if you were looking for an excuse all along.” (Paraphrased.) all I’m saying is all women aren’t evil so why are the rest of inspiring girls wanting to be an idols getting punished?

Ladies, we need to treat our fellow women better.

I want to see more support for girl idols. I want us to raise them so they can be at the same level as some of these boy groups. I know we find Bts, Got7, NCT, Exo ect to be very handsome and charming but we shouldn’t abandon other women for the sake of pretty boys. Let’s hype them up. Girl groups can be talented too and we would want support if we were them. Feminists where are you when we need you??

NCT’s concept is a flop.

People don’t wanna stan a group whose members are endless and always changing. We want a group that we can relax with, grow with and truly form a bond with. This is unable to do when we constantly are seeing new faces and trying to remember names.

(This is not at all forced on anyone but I want to see some ppl’s unpopular opinions. @goldngguk @chimchimsauce @yn-dere @yeollie-yeollie if you guys wanna share any pls do, I’m all ears and tag me in it.)

[sassysweetstories]

Diamond in the Rough // 5

Summary: you’re an androgynous woman who has a rather groggy voice. due to your social anxiety and shy nature, you refuse to not let your beautiful, sexy voice free. that is until you do something that might lead you down a dangerous path.

Ship: Shawn Mendes x Fem!Reader, Harry Styles x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, swearing, vulgar words, fluff, fighting, smut etc.

Notes: none of these gifs are mine, credit to the owners.

Tagged: @bailey-hoover @kiralivelove @thalia-prior-of-ravenclaw@anamcg317bellasett @queentiffanyyy @archer-whovian-violinist@beingmadinwonderland@princessisabelle19 @violence-and-velvet @lachicadelamanzana

Your P.O.V

I couldn’t believe my eyes. I take the photos, gawking. There is no way someone found me.. I was so safe, so sure that nobody was following me. I look up at Andrew with a broken, ashamed expression. “Andrew- I swear I was being careful-” But before I could finish he broke out into a wide smile. 

“(Y/n), this is good! I wish you could have warned me but we can use this for publicity! This is great to talk about a relationship just when your album is close to number one! It will get so much more cover on your album. You just gotta be seen with him for a few weeks and then we can call it off, pretend your crying or something. I’ve already contacted Harry’s manager and he agreed to this!” 

“Whoa, whoa whoa!” I hold my hands up, trying to process the information whilst distributing the pain I felt in my thighs thanks to the previous night. “Wait- You’re telling me I have to fake a relationship with Harry? Also-” Pointing at Shawn. “Why is he here?”

Shawn takes the reigns, crossing his arms as he eyes my hickies with distaste. “Because I’ve been through it; faking relationships to get promo. It works. People talk and your name has been flowing through the papers, on every website and news article. You’re already top ten on the charts but with a relationship, it’ll get more publicity.” 

It doesn’t seem like I have a choice as I sigh, slipping away from the studio to dial Harry. He answers immediately, speaking in a low, groggy voice that gave me chills the night before. 

      “Good morning, love. And yes, before you ask, my manager just told me about our little snafu. Don’t worry, I’m not mad. Surprised to wake up with a girlfriend, yes.”

I sigh, disappointed and frustrated with myself. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I was so certain I was in the clear.” Harry chuckles and I can almost see his bright smile. 

       “It’s alright, love. Besides, I rather like your company. Not like I have anything to fake. You’re great fun. How ‘bout we grab brunch? Fill our bellies and give the paps what they want?” 

I can help but smile despite the panic I was feeling. “How are you able to make me feel at ease? You surprise me, you know that?” He chuckles and I can’t help but shiver. 

        “Thank you, love. I’ll let my manager know where we’re going. Come dressed as yourself. I’ll pick you up soon, girlfriend.”

I can’t help but laugh before slipping back into the room. Andrew, Shawn, Olive and Derek look at me with curious eyes. “Okay, it’s a go. Harry and I are grabbing brunch so the paps can get some pics, get it circulating.”

Andrew grinned from cheek to cheek, clapping me on the shoulder like a proud father would with their child. I shouldn’t hold onto the sensation that bursts in my heart. However, not really having a good father and getting the love you never had felt right, as dark as that may sound. 

        “Thatta girl. I’ll make some phone calls. Remember you have an interview at one-thirty.” I nod and let him slip past me, clearly occupied with more important things. Olive grabs my arm, smirking. “So, how was it?” I roll my eyes, nudging her arm as we make our way over to the dressing room. Shawn, Derek and Brian who’s joined the group suddenly, walk not too far behind, talking lowly.

 “You’re terrible you know that.” I jokingly scold her before glancing over my shoulder as we slip away from the boys, giggling like school girls. The nostalgia of blushing over boys we never dreamed of getting makes my heart flutter.��“So, tell me! Spill the tea!!” Olive grabs my chin, examining the dark purple hickies Harry put all over my body only a few hours ago. 

“OOO! Homeboy’s FEISTY!” I smack her arm, laughing and gawking at her vulgar language. “OLIVE!” She throws her blonde hair back, laughing outright. “Oh, come on!” She sits pretzel style on the couch, propping up her arms to rest on her knees. “Tell me!! How was he?” I can’t help but blush and smile. “He was-” Pausing to bite my lip in hopes to hide a smile at the sinful things we did the night prior. Olive squealed, laughing at my blushing state.  

She helps me find a suitable outfit for the occasion; black and white converse with black jeans, a grey shirt and a blue-jean jacket. Olive slips a purse onto my arm that’s casual and light to hold. My hands find the fold of the purse, fiddling the small contraption as nerves bubble up.

Though we were in the most intimate of settings, limbs tangled together in a messy, lustful embrace. There is something about speaking with someone you don’t know, especially a person you find attractive, downright terrifying. It’s funny to think that sitting for brunch would be more anxiety producing and intimate than having sex with them. 

But just as he pulls up in his Mustang, all that worry seems to wash away. I can’t never get over his gorgeous smile and chocolate brown eyes. He looks so casual in a white shirt, blue jeans, a dark jacket and a hat. The Rolex on his wrist shines in the sunlight. It’s strange to see someone with poise and wealth be so close to you. 

“Morning, love! I’m looking for an androgynous dream. You wouldn’t happen to know where she is, would you?” He smiles up at me and I almost swoon. Instead, I shake my head and slip into the car. The conversation flows nicely and before we know it, the paps are outside the coffee shop taking photos of us. Most likely with the help of both our managers. “Don’t focus on them. They’ll get their winning shot. I wanna know who (Y/n) is. Not Diamond, you.” Without trying, Harry is phenomenal at being a boyfriend, fake or not. We cuddle in the warmth of one another, giggling at the overly-dramatic tweets. 

The next few days fly by. My schedule consists of the same events everyday; breakfast, gym, shower, interview, lunch with Harry, interview, recording, interview, writing, interview, dinner, performing, sleep. The cycle continues day in and day out. I notice the more I see of Harry, the less I see of Shawn and I’m not entirely sure how to feel about that. When he sat in the studio, I thought he was like a cold sore you couldn’t get rid of. But with him gone, the studio felt empty. Some of his points made sense, not that I’d ever tell him that. 

He was touring again, or at least that’s what I’ve seen. Faking a relationship with Camilla Cabello for their new song, Señorita. However if I had to say so myself, they were not the best at faking a relationship. Funny to think Shawn was the one giving me pointers. Harry and I had, however, the world fooled. Of course there were the fair few of doubters who were hushed almost immediately with overwhelming support for us. But I don’t really care when I’m doing the one thing I love most. 

The VMAs come sooner than expected and I have to attend the venue alone, unaccompanied by my ‘boyfriend’. He was filming across the country for his new music video and another movie he was staring in. He believes wholeheartedly that I would be fine, that I would rock the event and the performance but without him, it here feels wrong and uncomfortable. I shouldn’t be getting attach, this relationship being fake and all, but I can’t help myself from getting excited at the sudden romantic validation. 

https://pin.it/bo6ihwhsesy7gp

Olive helps me get fitted into a gorgeous gown, so beautiful I feel it should belong to another. But when I see it on myself, I immediately push the thought away. The dark blue and charcoal colors compliment the sparkles that shimmer all throughout the dress. No matter where I am, in the light or the dark, I look powerful, like a walking galaxy. I demand power, attention and respect. 

Without realizing it, my posture straightens; sharp like a dagger. My hair stylist and makeup artist, Delilah, beams up at me like a proud grandmother. I’m sure she is. Overjoyed at her artistry. And she should be. She made me look poise, beautiful, sharp and strong, all at once. Quickly I pull her into a tight hug and for a second I’m afraid to let go. But when I do, a small bouquet of flowers from across the room catches my eye. I thought the scent belonged to Delilah but it seems I was mistaken. 

Blood red roses, so fresh their smell seems to force its way into my nose. I’m gonna have to give Harry a lecture about spoiling me. I laugh to myself until I see the small note attached to the green leaf. See you on the carpet. Don’t doubt yourself. You’re better than you think. Go blow them away. Shawn. I ignore the flutter inside my chest that starts to flourish, pushing away the sensation before taking route to the car. He cusses me out and then showers me with my favorite flowers? The longer I am near him, the less sense I make of him. 

Andrew smiles up at me, taking my cheek with his palm and I completely ignore my previous internal quarrel. “I’m so proud of you, (Y/n).” The statement is short but holds so much meaning. I look for a lie but I find none. Stop doubting that there are good people out there. A voice seems to scold me. Instead, I take his hand in mine and smile. We worked so hard to get here. I worked so hard to get here. Suddenly the car pulls to a stop and we’re at the venue. “You’ve got this.” 

Andrew mutters, warmly before slipping from the opposite side of the car. I wait for my cue, breathing slowly. In through the nose, out through the mouth. The flashes are bright but none of that matters when I hear a steady chant, as loud and booming as thunder across a dark sky. It demands to be heard. 

“DIA-MOND! DIA-MOND! DIA-MOND! DIA-MOND! DIA-MOND!” 

They scream over and over again, almost howl at the sight of me. Stand like you’re the queen that you are. Delilah once said to me when I first started trying on dresses. I understand the atmosphere shift now, the need and pull others have towards me. Most stare in awe, gaping or intrigued while some drift closer, hoping to catch my attention for a photo in hopes to gas up their own platform, no matter how big or small. 

The walk of the carpet goes by smoothly until I see out of my peripheral, a pair of unmistakable honey brown eyes and a smile that could make any girl swoon. I don’t want to look at him. Not when I know my heart is fragile but I’m not strong enough. The roses confuse me to no end and this is just the start of it. His smile pulls me and I know there is no going back. 

Shawn’s warm brown eyes are already fixed on me. No matter how hard I try, I can’t find the strength to look away. His gaze is different than before as we both size the other up. But when he starts to walk towards me, I want nothing more in this world than to bolt in the opposite direction, run far from this place, from him. I can’t seem to pull my eyes away as he examines me up and down. He’s so close I can smell the cologne he chose for the event. 

“Hi..” Voice as soft as silk and warm as the honey he had in his eyes. I couldn’t help but smile softly as he took my hands. “Hi..” He shifts from side to side and I expect a snarky response but this Shawn that I’m seeing might be the one Andrew first met, that the public knows. “I see you don’t have a date by your side. Would you like to accompany me on the carpet?” 

I hesitate, looking for the cruelty in his eyes I’ve seen many times before. Slipping my hand through his arm, he pulls me close to his chest and the cameras snap with a frenzy I hadn’t noticed before. Maybe Andrew spoke to him, gave him some sort of idea to stand with me to catch more fire on both our albums. But then I thought crosses my mind. Where is Camilla? She doesn’t stand at his side but Harry is also not at my own. I suppose there is a good reason for her as much as for my dateless situation. 

“Camilla and I aren’t together. The facade is over with if that’s what you’re wondering.” He pulls me in closer and I force myself to hide the confusion. How did he know what I was thinking? Was I that obvious? Maybe he’s playing off me? Going after me now that he’s “single” for more circulation? God none of this shit makes sense. When we reach the end of the red carpet, Andrew meets with us, beaming with pride. “You guys looked great out there! Now, Diamond let’s get you ready for the performance.” 

“Good luck.” A small voice from behind me says, softly. I don’t suspect it to belong to Shawn but it does. His honey eyes pull me back and once more I’m entranced in an enchantment I do not understand. Things move slowly as we’re both pulled from the other, separating the palpable connection that throws me into a mental frenzy. How could I possibly possess feelings for him? After he’s been so confusing? Kind and cruel? The questions are thrown from one side of my brain to the next, exploding like bombs that result in a unnecessary headache. 

Without even realizing it, Delilah and the team escort me to my changing room. The announcer’s voice booms over the speakers, echoing all throughout the large auditorium. A gender neutral outfit that has everything I could have ever wanted and, with Delilah’s handy-work, pitch black eye shadow and a touch of silver in the corner to give the dark but temping effect. When I glance in the mirror, I feel the power behind the makeup. I look like a blade, carved and unbroken. It is a sensation I hold dear to my heart. 

              “And before we announce the winners, a performance by the fastest growing sensation. An artist with a dark past that’s turned her world into a whole new light. The androgynous dream; DIAMOND!” The crowd roars to life as I climb up the stairs, not a single ounce of worry holding me back from what I have worked so hard for. 

I sing with my whole heart, voice cracking at the hardest lyrics I’m forced to to project onto the crowd. Some even sing along or hum softly. The energy moves and flows like a current I can’t explain. It’s so strong and overwhelming, my whole body shakes with an adrenaline unlike anything I’ve ever experienced prior. Before I know it, the whole thing is over but I hold onto this memory close to my heart. The crowd, flooded with hundreds of people I’ve looked up to and adored, cheer for me. Shyly I tip my head, ready to walk off the stage but the crowd didn’t seem to be ready for me to leave as they continued to clap. 

I close my eyes and the whole world goes quiet. The sound of their cheers and claps seem to drift out and fade. This was the moment I had been waiting for my entire life. When I open my eyes again, the light shines directly in my eyes and I turn to show the rest of the band before I step back, breathing heavily. The world around me returns to its original temp. Olive and Derek hug me the minute I get behind the curtain and out of prying eyes. Andrew follows shortly after, beaming with pride again. The rest of the night flies by faster than I want it to. 

              “Hey (Y/n)!” Olive calls for me as we pack up from the show. “Shawn, his and our crew are getting together for congratulatory drinks at the studio! I’ll see you there!” 

I laugh as she practically gallops away, her Rapunzel like hair flopping in the wind. 

Once I shut the gate, it takes me all of ten minutes to arrive to the studio. But instead of immediately entering, I stop to admire the stars that twinkle and flicker above me. My cheeks feel wet the longer I look at the bright moon that compliments our galaxy. Tears trickle down my face. Whether they’re happy or sad, I appreciate the sentiment and the intimate moment. Then suddenly a dark, cold voice growls down at me from behind. 

“Better hold onto the stars cause that’s the last thing you’re gonna see, you disgusting rodent.” 

Five large men emerged from the dark shadows and my heart drops at the recognition of the middle man. 

“D-Dad?” 

Then, everything went dark. 

(I hope you guys liked it. PLEASE. FOR THE LOVE OF HADES WOULD YOU PLEASE COMMENT)