#that now we’ve gotten to the point where you either have to be straight or you have to come out so that people can recognize you as gay

[hyunjining]

maybe i’m fucking stupid but what happened to just thinking someone might be gay if they’re doing things that seem gay

[writersblockedx]

What we choose to Forget

Pairing - College!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader Summary - Peter keeps the life that everyone forgot he lived in a shoe box; photos, relics, even his old Spider-Man suit. It isn't until his girlfriend finds said box that the problems arise. Warnings - Mentions of alcohol, violence, angst, cliffhanger Words - 2K

A/n - Let me know if you’d like a part two!

Masterlist

Peter should have known that keeping that shoebox of memories was a bad idea. But he had never thrown it out, instead, it was shoved under his bed, ever reminding him of the life he no longer lived.

And now, he found the box facing him. Though it wasn't under his bed, it wasn't where it was meant to be. Right now, it was in the palms of his girlfriend. His girlfriend who was utterly oblivious to the superhero alter-ego Peter possessed - as well as what such had taken away from him: aunty, mentor and father figure, best friends. The list went on. So when she discovered this box she found its contents puzzling.

"Y/n?" Peter called, a cautious expression written in his eyes as he stood in the doorway. His body was usually engulfed by this point, breathing in the warmth that his girlfriend radiated. Instead, she stood only meters from him, the box in her grip and an emotion on her face Peter could only describe as betrayal. "That's not-" It was though, Peter realised. It was what she was likely thinking.

"I mean first this," Y/n pulled out his old spiderman mask and grimaced. "But that's not even the start of it." Next, came the polaroids. The one which she chose to pick out was the one of him and MJ in Venice. "I mean we've gone to lengths talking about past relationships and you didn't think about mentioning this one?" His lips were to MJ's forehead, a grin plastered at her lips like she couldn't have been happier.

The boy took a step forward, quickly dropping his keys and bag to the floor as to free his hands. They reached for the box, brushing against Y/n's fingers. Such had made her skin jolt. She stepped away, the box still perfectly aligned in her grip. "No," Her tone so stern it had made Peter shiver. "Either you give a straight answer now, or-" A pause followed. There was a crack in her tone as if the words were truly getting caught in her throat. "I'm leaving. And Peter, I'm not coming back."

The severity of the situation clouded him. As much as he was pulled to explain this, come clean, it was a story of which would be unbelievable. But the alternative, not telling her, was so much worse. "It's a long story."

He had barely been able to finish his breath before she had snapped back, "Then tell it."

"Y/n," His voice suddenly fell with a heavy emotion, one of which knew he was about to accept the consequences. "I can't." Now his voice cracked too. "It's difficult, complicated."

"It's not." She had no idea and Peter couldn't even express such. "You lied to me Peter and I can't even work out why and you won't tell me." Suddenly, her voice wasn't cracking, it was snapping, dripping in a rising fury that Peter couldn't argue against.

So, instead, he found himself sheepish, concerned that within a moment's notice, he had just lost someone he so deeply adored. "You just got to trust me on this, Y/n, plea-"

Her head shook, "No." It cut through the air as if it had just cut Peter's vocal cords in two. "If you can't explain this, then I am leaving." And like that, she shoved the shoe box of memories into his chest.

Peter couldn't move. Even when she walked passed him. Even when every bone in his body begged to call out to her, apologise and never stop, he didn't move. Even when he heard the door shut. It was like he couldn't do anything.

Maybe he was plagued with the thoughts of the past. The thought of mixing Spider-man and Peter Parker seemed dangerous, like it wasn't the smart idea anymore. It got people hurt. And it had gotten Peter himself into the situation he was in now. And while it wasn't all bad, while he had met people like Y/n, he wasn't willing to risk that for a second time.

The next week Peter felt followed by a shadow. Peter had met Y/n in the labs at college. He was oblivious; she was far too smart for him. And when he found himself struggling to use a piece of machinery, she had swooped in. "Do you want some help with that?" She had questioned, a brightness in her pupils which had drawn the boy in effortlessly.

He had almost been too caught off guard with the pretty girl he was faced with to reply. "Oh, erm," He glanced back to the machine, "Doesn't seem to be getting on with me." He said, cursing himself for not saying something more smooth or witty.

But she hadn't seemed to care. Instead, she slipped in front of him, her hands brushing along the side of the machine like it were second nature. When she came to realise why it wasn't working for Peter, she let out a giggle. "What?" The boy had asked, a sudden sense of panic in his tone.

She glanced over at him, a smile hanging at her lips, "You've not turned it on." Peter had never flushed such a deep red. This pretty, obviously smart girl, was helping him and he had just made himself out to be such an idiot. In that moment, no chance, he had thought to himself. But then: "If you want, I can help show you how it all works?" She offered.

Peter took the offer. And the two started meeting between classes, Y/n talking through the machinery. After a week or so, they met at coffee shops too. This time, they weren't talking about the labs, but instead, going over essay assignments, going back and forth. Then, sometimes, they would get bored of the work they were drowning in and conversation would turn. While Peter didn't technically have a past to talk about anymore, he loved to listen to hers, enticed and captured by every story which fell from her lips.

It took Peter a long time (and God knows Y/n was waiting for it), but he finally clustered the courage to ask her out.

And now, her presence was a shadow, an echo. It wasn't next to him like a brightness which would follow him through the day, show up when his classes finished or rock up to his shitty apartment with coffee and a muffin. It was as if he looked away and now, as he turned back, everything light had been snatched from him.

Peter thought on it and thought on it hard. He spent much more nights on the street dressed in that blue and red suit, willing for a solution to come to mind. And then, one night, the universe seemed to offer him something; her voice. He had patrolling all night by this point as it started to reach the early hours of the morning. He had been so close to leaving when his ear caught sound of that tone, that giggle, the one he craved like an addict.

"I know!" Her voice boomed through the quiet street, blurred in with the drumming music from the clubs and bars they were walking between. But Peter had heard it loud and clear. "I can't do that though."

Spider-man was perched on a roof of a building, watching down at his ex-girlfriend and her two friends which seemed attached to her, clinging on as they drunkenly wandered down the streets. "So you're just gonna go on? Pretend nothing happened?" One of her friends questioned.

"I mean, I don't know." Y/n answered with a shrug. "I just can't get that image out of my head."

"What the superhero mask?" Inquired the second friend with a chuckle like Peter were a child; if only she knew what that mask had truly meant for Peter.

"No, no, not that." Maybe he shouldn't be listening to this, the boy thought. "The photos. The relics. It's like he had a whole other life he never told me about." She explained and the boy felt his gut twist with guilt. "He wouldn't give me an answer when I ask so..."

One of the friends nodded, "That's why you're not gonna speak to him again?" That thought of never hearing her voice again seemed to slowly dawn on Peter and suddenly, he was regretting his actions. And when he noted the way her head nodded, he was clouded in anxiety.

The three girls slowed as they came to the end of the street. "Are you gonna be okay walking back alone?" Said a friend as the two wandered up to the front door of the house

Y/n hugged her stomach, appreciating the short-term warmth it provided her. "I'll be fine, don't worry." She assured.

And after hugs and goodbyes, the two drunk girls slipped into their house, leaving Y/n as she headed the opposite way. Peter probably should have headed home too. But instead, like he was on auto-pilot, he started following her from the rooftops. He was lucky he did too. Had he not, Y/n might have ended up losing her purse - and worse, possibly her life.

Peter hadn't been paying much attention. His mind was somewhere else as he followed the girl, already having had the directions to her house memorised. But when he looked back to the ground, there was a second figure next to her. Peter only needed a glance to know the interaction was not a friendly one. The second the criminal pulled a knife out, Peter was swinging from the roof, his webs shooting against it until his feet hit the floor with a thud.

It didn't take much for him to remove the blade from the criminal's hand. All while Y/n took a steady step back, watching as it all happened in a blur. Peter had no care for them as they took off, rushing from what could have ended in handcuffs and cop cars. For Peter, this wasn't a situation where he was meant to chase after the criminal. Instead, this was a situation where he was better to care for the victim, his girlfriend. Well, ex-girlfriend.

Her breath was uneven, clutching her bag to her chest like it was giving her life. "Thank you." She uttered out in a breath, her brain not able to compute why the hero in front of her seemed all so familiar.

"Yeah, yeah." He had muttered, turning to face the girl. A pause followed and it seemed, just by looking at her and finding that brightness in her eyes again, Peter lost all logic. His hand reached for his mask and within one swoop, it was torn from his features.

And like that he was vulnerable. Everything from before came crashing back. The other two Peters, losing MJ and Ned, the feeling of his aunt slowly slipping into the afterlife. Without his mask, that's what he was vulnerable to. He didn't know what to expect and he didn't know if he had just made the decision he was going to regret forever.

All that came from her lips in a jumble of fear and confusion was, "Peter?" Said like it was the first time.

[shoshiwrites]

can i request jo/egan + 10. maraschino cherries? please and thank you!

Jo + MotA has a tag now, help. From this prompt list. Bucky Egan/WarCo OC.

She hadn’t wanted to come out tonight, but the Red Cross girls insisted.

It’s still on her desk, torn open, the package with her address on it. The brooch inside that wasn’t her name, the little pearls and swirling letters in gold plate, the pink paste stone. The note attached, longer than the last one he’d written her.

Pity was the last thing she wanted tonight, even if it felt like her chest was stuffed with cotton. So she didn’t say anything, didn’t let Helen’s gentle questions get anywhere, or Tatty’s inquisitive grin. Could she pass it off as homesickness? The three of them loved their jobs too much for that, maybe. Took too much pride in them, at least, if not loved. Love was a word she held back here, with even the loudest of parties shot through with sadness. 

She’s still wearing his class ring. The little silver thing, with enamel and gold edges. The ring that wasn’t about her, either.

“You want to try another drink, Jo?”

She’s barely touched her soda, the little maraschino cherry still floating on top, tendrils of red syrup in the weakened carbonation. They’d gotten a few jars in earlier in the week, and everyone was feeling the extra sparkle. It wasn’t a twist of lemon or an orange peel or the end of the war, but it was alright.

“Oh no, thank you. Can’t waste this one, right?” She takes a sip. 

A certain voice echoes in her head. What kind of chump doesn’t get a girl a nice ring? 

She does, she needs a drink.

On nights like these, Helen and Tatty’s chairs are soon empty — blue uniforms spinning in a room amongst olive wool and florals. 

“Hey there, Josephine.” 

She looks up at him, the dim lights behind his head. “Major Egan.”

He makes the same face he always does. “You could at least call me John.”

“Same reason I don’t dance, Major.”

He looks over his shoulder at the band, at the crowd of pairs dancing. “Why’re you here, then?”

She jerks her chin at Helen’s martini glass and the last few sips of Tatty’s sherry. “You think I had a choice?”

“Hey, don’t make fun of the nice ladies.” He half-smiles, the kind he never keeps off his face. “C’mon, dance with me.”

She wonders if Dora lives back home or somewhere in England, an ocean or a stone’s throw. Have they danced? She assumes they have.

“Song’s almost over, Josephine.”

She wonders if he can see that her eyes are a little red. At least, she feels they still are. “Is that your selling point?”

“You won’t have to worry about a thing.”

The last pretty face they ever see, right? She can’t push it away, can’t invite it in. There’s no one else here to care, no reporters who’ll moan that she only gets stories by dancing, by turning something on that your average Joe reporter can’t. 

She stands, and he looks at her like she’s made a miracle happen. 

The song does end, and he still holds out his hand. “Don’t think you’re getting off that easy.” Her fingers hover above his outstretched palm. The next song starts slow, like bubbles in a glass of champagne. He looks like a schoolboy when her expression asks if he did it on purpose. “I know I’m dancing with another’s betrothed,” he says, annunciating like he’s explaining the word.

She’d take the straight bottle, actually. Whiskey. Vodka. Gin.

“I— I don’t know about that,” she says. It’s everything she can do to keep her feet moving. To keep from stepping on his toes. 

Above her, she can feel his chin brush her hair. “What?” It’s possible she’s never regretted saying anything more in her life. “What happened?”

The brooch, sitting on her desk. Amongst all of her things. Her letters. Her notebook. Her cigarettes and lipstick and tins of pocket candy. Is she supposed to care this much? Is this something she’s just supposed to accept? 

“Not here,” she says. She hates how small her voice sounds. 

“You know we’ve got a jeep,” he says. “You just tell us where—” 

“I think maybe I need a drink,” she says. He’s taken her hand, holds it against his chest. 

“‘Course, what’ll you have?”

“Whatever’s back at my room.” Maybe she’ll figure out how to ask for a bottle of wine so that nobody looks at her funny. “Alone.”

He doesn’t stop holding her. She said alone. She thinks— she thinks she means it. She knows he’d—

“Alone,” he repeats. 

“Mmhm.”

The music continues around them, soapy and warm. His voice by her ear. “You want a drink before you go? Want me to tell you I owe you a dance? Make up for this one?”

You don’t owe me anything, John. You didn’t do a damn thing wrong.

But she nods, against his chest, “yes ma’am,” and lets the moment linger a second longer.

[witchysquirrel]

Epiphany

Chapter Thirteen

Ravenna found her way to her room, immediately ridding herself of the gown that felt restrictive and hot now that she was at home. She changed into a pair of black lounge pants and a black sweater, leaving her jewelry in place out of laziness. The healer felt like she could hardly keep her head on straight. At least she’d have good news to give Rhysand if Fetrin had indeed told her the truth about his stance on the slavery happening on the Continent. 

Maybe she’d ask Rhys about her dynamic with Cassian, too. She trusted his opinion… most of the time.

The anxiety lost out to the exhaustion at some point, and Ravenna slept long and hard. She stayed in bed the entire next day in addition, just because she couldn’t bring herself to leave her bedroom. 

She awoke the next morning with a decent headache, and dragged herself to the bathroom. Beginning to draw a bath, she turned the faucet all the way right, then moved to the medicine cabinet above the sink. She poured herself a small plastic cup full of a tonic she kept on hand for this type of headache, and threw it back. It left a metallic taste in her mouth, but worked nearly 100% of the time. Stripping from her clothes, Ravenna settled into the warmth of the tub and closed her eyes.

Her mind wandered back to the night prior, flashing from Fetrin’s words, how sure he had been in what he’d told her; then to Cassian, the image of him spinning her around with the biggest smile on his face etched in her memory forever. She’d prefer to just replay the last image over and over again, and avoid thinking about any other context. She resolved to ask Rhys his opinion when she saw him later today. She needed someone else’s perspective to even everything out.

-

Ravenna wore a black velvet gown that fell just above her ankles, inky curls falling loose behind her shoulders. She made her way quickly to Rhysand’s study, hoping to avoid talking to anyone else on her way there. When she arrived, he glanced up at her from where he sat at his desk, puzzling over a lengthy piece of correspondence, which he set aside as she hastily closed the door behind her. 

“How did your night end up going, my spy in training?”

She took a seat in the plush armchair across from his desk. “It was mostly good, honestly,” she said. “I don’t think we need to worry about the Dawn Court, if everything he told me was true.”

Rhys nodded. “Good. You held up okay emotionally?”

“Mostly, yeah,” Ravenna answered, biting the inside of her cheek.

“Mostly,” Rhys repeated, looking at her with curiosity.

“Fetrin said something that kind of threw me for a loop,” she said, quietly. Rhys continued looking at her, waiting for her to fill the silence that followed. He narrowed his eyes.

“Spit it out, Ravenna.”

“He thought Cassian and I were mates.”

Another weighty silence followed, Ravenna attempting to read the expressions on her friend's angled face. 

“What made him say that?” Rhys asked.

“He said it after watching us dance together,” she said plainly. “And he seemed very sure about it.” 

“That’s interesting,” he replied, eyes trained to his desk once again.

“I thought so too,” she said, watching him.

“Well? Have you felt the bond?” he asked, resting an elbow on the surface in front of him and looking at her carefully.

Ravenna blinked. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” 

“I don’t know what it’s supposed to feel like,” Ravenna replied curtly. 

“I suppose I don’t either,” he answered. She rolled her eyes.

“You’re being weird. Tell me what you know,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I think you should talk to Cassian about it, not me. I really don’t know anything,” he said, shrugging smugly. 

“I brought it up because I wanted your opinion, actually,” Ravenna shot back, leaning forward in her chair. 

“I mean I will say, it has seemed like you guys have gotten closer recently,” Rhys answered, hands raised in surrender.

“Was that so hard?” she half-joked. “I feel like we’ve gotten closer too, since we started speaking mind to mind.”

“Since you started speaking –” Rhys cut himself off, just before the point of clapping a hand over his open mouth like a cartoon character. “No, you know, that’s really interesting. My honest opinion, Ravenna, as your friend and High Lord, is that you should talk to Cassian.”

“What if I don’t want to… ruin things? And he has Celeste. I just don’t know.”

Rhys paused, gaze returning to Ravenna. “He and Celeste broke up last week. I thought you knew already.”

Ravenna felt her stomach drop. “I didn’t know,” she said, quietly, looking back to Rhys. She shook her head. “That doesn’t change anything.” And with that she rose, leaving the way she came, the door swinging in her wake. Rhys rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, impressed with himself for not giving in to her questions, allowing it to be Cassian’s responsibility.

Ravenna left, heading straight for Mor’s side of the house. She flung open the door of Mor’s suite to find it in complete disarray, with Mor in the center of it all snoring softly. Ravenna stepped over out of place furniture and a stray glass bottle, until she reached Mor, shaking her awake. Mor jolted awake, but relaxed when she realized it was Ravenna. 

“I need your companionship,” Ravenna huffed, resting back on her knees. “I was going to say I need someone to get drunk with, but you look like you don’t need that right now.”

“No, no! Those bottles are from the night of the ball. I honestly just haven’t cleaned up yet,” she snorted, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, although it was nearly 6pm. “I’ll never turn down the proposition of Rita’s.”

Mor changed into a casual midnight blue gown that plunged so low, Ravenna actually checked to make sure everything was covered. Ravenna put on light makeup, flipped her hair a few times, and called it good. Rhys offered to fly them into town, which they gladly accepted, and Ravenna wondered if he was pitying her. They arrived at Rita’s, each ordering a glass of wine, and picked a couple of seats at the end of the bar. 

“Tell me everything about the ball,” Mor said, bringing her elbow to the bar and resting her chin in her hand. 

Ravenna sipped from her glass slowly. “It was fine,” she said. “I actually had a fine time with Fetrin, it was nice to talk with him again.”

“Oh good! So he wasn’t a complete asshole?” 

“Surprisingly no! Only a slight asshole.” The two laughed in unison.

“Well that’s great, Rav. I’m glad it wasn’t entirely awful,” she replied, her features soft. 

“Speaking of which, I didn’t see you at all after the first twenty minutes of the ball,” Ravenna said, sitting up slightly and raising an eyebrow at her friend. 

“I was around,” she reassured. “I did bring someone home fairly early but I was mostly there.”

Ravenna giggled. “So you had a good night, I take it?”

Mor nodded, taking another huge gulp from her glass of red wine, before something caught her eye behind Ravenna, towards the front door. “Oh there’s Cassian, let me-“

“No!” Ravenna yell-whispered, eyes wide as she smacked down the hand Mor was raising to wave him over. Mor’s eyes widened at Ravenna’s behavior, but she stopped what she was doing. Mor was surprised at her outburst, as was Ravenna herself, and she covered her face with her hands. 

“Do you wanna tell me what in the hell that was about?” Mor asked, brows raised at her friend. 

“I really don’t want to talk about it, but I know I should,” Ravenna replied, grimacing slightly. 

“Okay… spill then,” Mor answered, and flagged down the bartender. “We’ll take a bottle of Merlot to share.” Mor joked about wondering if they had any larger wine glasses, and Ravenna offered to ask for her. 

“So anyways,” Ravenna finally said over the din. “Fetrin was convinced that Cassian and I are mates.” She said it all in one breath, letting the words hang weightless in the air. Mor’s eyebrows raised once more, her face morphing into a huge smile. Ravenna immediately began shaking her head.

“Oh come on! This is a best case scenario, Ravenna,” Mor mused excitedly, as Ravenna continued shaking her head. 

“No.”

“Why not?! I love the idea of you two together, I can’t believe I hadn’t thought of it before! Ravenna. Please.”

“I have no idea if he’s actually my mate,” Ravenna answered. “Or if he feels anything even remotely for me.”

“I mean you did tell me about his voice in your head,” Mor shrugged. “That’s not very common for someone who’s not entirely Daemati. Could be the mating bond.”

Ravenna hadn’t considered it that way, her chest feeling tight as she realized the truth to Mor’s words. She drank more wine and tried to take a deep breath, to calm down. 

“I’m telling you, this is such a good thing. Why are you so scared?”

“We have such a good friendship. I don’t want to ruin everything.”

“Ravenna. The friendship part doesn’t have to end,” Mor said, “you get to be friends and have crazy sex. It’s the best of both worlds. And I’m sorry to say this about your potential mate, but also, happy for you when I say that their little ‘wingspan’ jokes are absolutely true.”

Ravenna couldn’t help but crack at that, laughing with Mor and taking another gulp of wine. 

“Maybe you’re right,” Ravenna replied, sighing. “I guess I’m scared of all these hypotheticals I’ve created in my head. They’re all hypotheticals where I get hurt.”

“You’re scared of getting hurt,” Mor repeated back to her. “I don’t think it’s unreasonable. I just don’t want you to miss out for fear of something that hasn’t happened yet.”

The healer looked at the blonde next to her with gratitude. She was so thankful for Mor; her ability to level out Ravenna’s anxieties was nearly unmatched. Ravenna needed Mor’s confidence, more of her willingness to believe she deserved something good. 

“I still don’t know what to do next,” Ravenna said. “I’m not sure what the bond snapping is meant to feel like... There has been one time… or maybe a couple times, that I thought I felt something, when I’d been, uhm, close to him. But I got scared, and I left.”

“Replicate the conditions,” Mor said with a devious smile. “And then give into the feeling instead of running away from it.”

“You’re right, I guess. I should talk to him.”

“Good thing he is quite literally across the room.”

Ravenna sighed. “I was thinking more like tomorrow, the next day, something like that.”

“Just do it! He’s literally right there.”

Ravenna chugged the rest of her wine, took a deep breath and then turned from the bar to face the rest of Rita’s. Her vision was slightly fuzzy in the dim lighting, but she made out familiar wings across from where she and Mor sat, but to the left. 

“I don’t know if I can do it,” she said, face wrought with worry. 

“You can!” Mor urged with a smile, nudging her off of her barstool and onto her feet. It was the push she needed to propel her in Cassian’s direction. Before she knew it she was crossing the floor, black velvet swishing at her ankles as she walked. Cassian was standing against a far wall, arms mostly crossed in front of him, holding a beer in one hand as he mostly listened to the males around him talk. His eyes softened when he saw her approaching, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. 

“Hi,” she said.

“Hey,” he echoed. 

“Can we talk for a second?” 

“Yeah, of course.”

Cassian followed her through Rita’s until they reached the corridor where the bathrooms were, and then they branched off into another hallway adjacent, stopping before a door marked ‘Employees Only’. 

Cassian almost looked amused, watching her as she turned to face him again, waiting for her to speak first. She looked up towards the cracks in the ceiling to avoid his face as she started talking. 

“I feel like our relationship has changed, recently,” she started, attempting to keep her voice steady. “I feel closer to you.”

He hummed a little, contemplating her words. “I agree,” he said, swallowing. Ravenna watched his adam’s apple bob as he did so. 

“I think…” she began, taking another breath. “I don’t know..” she said again, stuttering. “I just wondered what you thought about that, I guess.”

“About the fact that we’re mates,” he said bluntly, Ravenna shocked to hear him voice what she hadn’t been able to. 

“So you know,” she replied, quietly, cheeks flushing. 

“I suspected, for a while there. Until the bond snapped for me,” he added. “Then I really knew.” She met his eyes then, their soft hazel burning into her with an intensity she hadn’t expected. She wet her lips with her tongue, heartbeat pounding in her ears. 

“I’m worried,” she said, after a moment. “I really love our friendship. I don’t want to change anything.”

He took a half-step closer to her. “We’re still friends,” he said, quieter than before. “We’ll always be friends.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, heart continuing to flutter madly in her chest. “What did it feel like?” She asked him. “When the bond snapped?”

He smiled a little bit. “It felt like something opened up in me,” he began, touching the base of his sternum. “Like deep inside, and it wanted to reach out for you. I ignored it the first time, I don’t think I realized what it was. I accepted it the second time, fell into it, that’s an entirely different feeling.”

Ravenna was quiet. “I think I’ve felt it,” she said softly. “But I’ve been too scared to accept it.”

“I know it’s scary, and I know I’m acting really normal right now but I absolutely fucking freaked out at first, too,” Cassian said.

“What did it feel like once you accepted it?”

He broke his gaze from her, flushing just slightly in the cheeks as he scratched the back of his neck. “There’s no way for me to say it nicely, honestly. I wanted to take you right there, and everywhere.”

She turned pink at his words, laughing nervously. “I shouldn’t have asked, truly, I knew the answer.” Cassian chuckled, shoving his hands in his pockets. Ravenna took another deep breath in through her nose, exhaling slowly before looking back at him again. “I’m willing to take the risk,” she said. “It’s really hard to ignore this thing, believe it or not.”

Cassian took another step closer to her, close enough that she had to look up at him a little. “Are you sure?” Her heart pounding in her chest, Ravenna hesitantly closed the distance between them, lifting her arms and snaking them around his neck. His hands found her waist, settling in lightly. She looked up at him, breathing in the scent of him, that feeling beginning to grow in her chest once more, spreading its warmth through her. She nodded, a shiver of warmth traveling down her spine. “Positive? Once we start I’m not going to be able to resist you anymore.” 

She nodded a second time.

-

Epiphany Masterlist

[cafecourage]

Pinky Isn't Suffering - Chapter 7

I need to organize these better.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was refreshing to actually rest for a bit. Despite a ball literally being the first

thing they had to do, the rest of the days had them getting back to 100%. But

because they were heroes there is no rest for too long.

Something weird happened. 

When they swapped era’s, only Twilight, Pinky and Enno were the only ones together. “We’re on the surface, sky’s era.” Enno spoke up looking around, “in Faron woods.”

“Do you know where the settlement is?” Twilight asked with a sigh. Enno didn’t answer, walking forward a bit to see if they recognized the area. 

They turn to speak but a horn cuts them off.

“Get back! Both of you!” Twilight jumps to action instantly against the horde. However, things went south and fast. First, Twilight wasn’t used to fighting tons and tons of monsters alone. Even with Enno attempting to support with Wind’s hammer, they got hit twice in the arm with arrows while blocking Pinky.

But even with that support they weren’t really exactly winning.

There needed to be a change in the tides and while Pinky watched Twilight get strike down, a twinge of pure unfiltered fear shot through her. A small pull brought her down and gained her attention.

The Fierce Deity Mask was right there on the ground. It must have fallen off when Enno got hit.

Pinky didn’t have time to think.

Even if everything in her body was telling her to not put it on, there wasn’t anything stopping her movement as she put on the mask, slipping into a world of white and suddenly just straight to black.

‘So soon?’ A voice hums in her mind immediately putting her on edge. The deity chuckles, ‘I didn’t mean to startle you, but it should have been expected.’

‘I wanted to protect Twilight, I wasn’t expecting a conversation.’ Pinky snapped back. It was uncomfortable how she could only see the world in a blur and foggy state. She didn’t have any control of her body but she felt it moving, pulling back whatever weapon she had.

‘The Rancher and my Beloved will be safe.’ The deity coo’s almost like he was talking to a kid. ‘Have some faith in me.’

‘Hard to have faith in you when you're in control of my body.’ She was too annoyed to fully catch what he said.

The deity snickers a bit, ‘you haven’t changed a bit.’ The god sounded like he was looking off in the distance.

‘Wha-‘

‘However taking my power and using it has consequences though.’ He steamrolls over whatever Pinky was going to say. ‘I think you will match.’

‘Match?! With who?” There were only two, no- three others that dawned this mask before Pinky.

‘Who else?’ The Deity didn’t even know why she was asking. ‘Your lover, of course.’

‘Lo-‘ oh god, Pinky couldn’t believe she was having this conversation with a War God, who was still using her body to kill monsters. ‘Twi isn’t- we aren’t-‘

‘Oh?’ The deity hums once more ‘here I thought you two would be together at

this point.’

‘Who are you?’ Pinky hissed.

‘A friend’ the smirk on his face was absolutely there. ‘A friend who wants his

friends to be happy. But we’ve gotten off topic it seems.’

A tingle started to grow on her wrist as something was being etched onto her

skin.

‘I remember my beloved saying something about soulmates.” The deity seemed so proud of himself like he completed a life’s goal. ‘How some are connected through a mark. Now you’ll both match and be a part of each other no matter where you go.’

Pinky couldn’t even question as the mark sears through. The stitching of an image on the inside of her arm was burning with pain.

She wanted it to stop.

It hurts so much.

Why does it have to hurt so much?

She was about to cry just from that pain alone. Gaining control back. She throws down the mask and curls up in pain crouching holding her arm closest. Monsters were far gone and had dissipated back into malice. They were all safe but with both Twilight and Enno down, Pinky didn’t know how to move either of them back to safety.

“PINKY!!!!” The voice of Wild filled her with relief. She was quick to turn to face him. The champion was with Sky and Legend. She couldn’t help but run into her brother's arms and hug him sobbing uncontrollably now that she was safe. All the fear and anxiousness crashed over her at once. It all came out. She wasn’t paying attention to what was being said. But she knew they were fine now. Enno needed immediate attention but they were all going to be ok.

The mark however stilled stun.

[gatheringfiki]

The following ficlet was written by @i-am-still-bb​ based on this photoset.

Fili/Kili, Gen.

You might also be able to read this story on AO3.

If you’ve enjoyed this story, please leave a comment either in replies or on AO3. :)

Deck the Halls

—

December 1st

Kili opened the cardboard box that he had brought down from the attic days before. It was dented and soft around the corners, and there was a water stain from some long ago roof leak. He had dragged the ornaments down after he put the tree in its stand. He had intended to start decorating the tree. But then he just… hadn’t.  He had gone to the tree farm and cut down the tree on his own, brought it home, and gotten it into the stand and it was more or less straight. That was enough. And it felt like it might be enough for the whole holiday season.

He pushed the box into the corner and turned on the television to watch a hockey match. He did not like hockey, but every other channel was playing Christmas movies, talking about Christmas, or airing the news. And he wanted to avoid all of those things. Right now he did not want to watch parades, see men be tricked into becoming Santa Claus, watch fathers run all over town trying to find the toy their child wants for Christmas, or the chaos of a family Christmas complete with a kidnapping and a house fire. 

Fili and he had always watched those movies together—Jingle All the Way, The Santa Clause, Christmas with the Kranks, Home Alone 4, Merry Christmas Charlie Brown, others, and the whole plethora of animated Christmas cartoons from their childhoods.

They had spent the holiday season apart before. School, work, illness—all got in the way at one time or the other. So sometimes Kili put up the tree and FaceTimed Fili while he decorated it. Other times they would watch movies on their laptops, clicking start at the same time. But they always saw each other at some point even if it was just for a day. But since they had completed college, grad school, and internships they had spent each Christmas season together for nearly a decade.

Not this year. And probably not next year if the news of the expedition was correct. 

Fili had taken a job as a Navigator on the HMS Dauntless. It was a tremendous honor to be chosen, but it still took Fili away and into the stars. Fili was going to spend Christmas on a different planet looking at different stars. He wouldn’t have a Christmas tree with colored lights and baubles flashing in a darkened room. There would be no light displays in the city center to look at with peppermint hot chocolate in hand. Instead Fili would have twinkling stars and maybe lights from a distant, alien city peeking through cloud cover. And Kili had his job on Earth. He had all of things things available to him. But he had not bought a single peppermint hot chocolate or gandered at the light displays. 

—

“You brought what?” Fili asked incredulously.

“Baubles,” Matt said, grunting as he pulled a large tote out of the storage closet. “Tinsel, some fake garlands, lights.”

“On a space mission? Where we could very well be fired on at any given moment given how the negotiations are going.”

Matt shrugged. “And that’s a reason not to celebrate Christmas, why?”

“It’s not…” Fili faltered. “I just was not expecting it, was all.”

“And that’s part of the point,” Matt said. “No one is expecting it, so it will be a good surprise. And we need some good surprises rather than just all the bad ones that we’ve been getting so far on this voyage.”

“I suppose that makes sense.”

“I even had some honeyed hams put in the deep freeze.”

“Did you think about presents?”

“I did,” Matt admitted. “It’ll have to be crafts something”

“I have exactly one crafty skill, and only one. Mapmaking,” Fili held up his hands, “Not really a jumper or a scarf.”

“Well, make a map then.”

Fili grunted. “Who’s going to be doing the decorating?”

“That would be you,” Matt pushed an unlabeled, but heavy box into Fili’s arms. “Merry Christmas.”

Fili strung up silver and gold garlands over the doors into the common areas and around the windows in the navigation cabin. The captain saw him and rolled his eyes, but said nothing. Then there were the baubles in blue, silver, and gold, and the warm white twinkling lights. The refectory, the navigation cabin, and the recreation lounges were certainly more festive than before, but still sterile in the way that spaceships always were. Despite the definite cheerful bend  it felt off for Fili. He had grown up with trees covered in eclectic ornaments; some were antiques, some were preschool crafts, some were hand made gifts, and some were mass produced spheres. Those were all hung on a tree that they had cut down themselves. Kili’s family had always used a fake tree, but once he moved in with Fili he had been initiated in the tradition of wandering a field and cutting down your own Christmas tree.

Fili had brought other traditions with him into the house that he shared with Kili. There was gold tinsel, multicolored lights, and a Moravian star on the top of their tree. Kili had brought origami snowflakes, stars, spheres, and his love for bells of all sorts. 

Tubs now empty of decorations were now stored away and now released from duty Fili was reading over some navigation reports in the largest of the recreational lounges. The reports could have waited until tomorrow, but the appearance of the Christmas decorations had made him a bit melancholy. He had been excited to take this job, but he had simultaneously dreaded it. To spend almost 2 years aboard the Dauntless, but very possibly more, was a dream job, the very job that he had been working for most of his career working on navigation systems. But it also meant nearly 2 years away from his friends and family.

And Kili.

Fili shook his head and refocused on the reports, but his thoughts started to drift almost immediately.

A few of the younger crew members were seated around a television and they had selected a show to watch. The telltale introduction for Rudolf started with the introduction by the snowman. 

Kili knew all of the songs. They had sung them together on more than one occasion.

Fili ended up watching the program from his spot at the table, reports completely forgotten. He wondered if Kili would watch any of the movies on his own.

—

December 7th

Kili had put decorations on the tree, but it was minimal; tinsel, lights, and the most meaningful ornaments—the one commemorating their first house together, baby ornaments, a felt bell decorated with puff pant and a photograph of Fili as a toddler with red cheeks and a cowlick  in the center.

Snow had fallen the night before, and Kili could not yet be bothered to dig himself out. 

So he set a photograph of Fili and him standing in front of a Christmas lights display on the coffee table, made himself a hot chocolate with marshmallows and whipped cream, and settled in to watch one of their favorite Christmas movies. 

—

December 10th

The alarm set for 7:50 pm always startled Fili when it sounded at the same time on every second Saturday. He expected and looked forward to this alarm with its chiming bells, but it always caught him off guard. His turn in the Communications room started at 8pm. He was always waiting at the door so he could use all of the time that was allotted to him. 

—

Kili’s phone sat fully charged, screen facing up, on the coffee table. He sat anxiously on the edge of the brown leather couch, elbows on his knees, staring at the tiny black screen. He tapped the glass to wake up the display. It was still fully charged. There was still a full signal.

And it was only 7:58 pm.

The screen turned dark and Kili tapped the glass again.

7:59 pm.

Then 8:00 pm. 

The phone never rang immediately no matter how much Kili willed it to. He knew Fili had to sign in with the attendant, find a terminal, sign in to the computer, and then dial Kili’s number. Tasks that ate up precious seconds and delayed their only means of direct communication.

They could also send emails back and forth. They took advantage of that, but the emails usually consisted of a list of things they did that day and that they missed each other. Kili looked forward to those emails, sometimes refreshing his Inbox every few seconds for hours waiting for the next missive to appear. But emails were not the same as video chatting.

And video chatting was a far cry from seeing each other in person. But it was the best they were going to have for… a while. Kili had an app on his phone counting down to the Dauntless’ anticipated return date. And for now he never looked at it. The number was far too large. 

Then Kili’s phone rang.

Fili’s face filled the screen with a large green button that Kili swiped to answer the call. The photograph shifted from one of Fili smiling in their kitchen to him sitting in the Comm room with large black headphones covering his ears and a microphone extending from one earpiece.

“Hi!” 

“Hi yourself,” Fili replied with a smile. “You are not going to believe or be able to guess what I did this week!”

“Discover a new planet? A race of aliens? Fixed a broken Nav-1500-K12 system yourself?”

“See, those are all things that would make sense given that I’m on a Space Cruiser with the specific mission of locating new planets and I am employed as a Navigations Specialist.”

“Umm…” Kili searched for less plausible activities, but he was distracted by Fili’s voice and face. He could have sworn that Fili looked different in each call, but Kili could never pinpoint exactly what was different. “Used a pogo stick in zero gravity?”

Fili laughed, “Now that would be a challenge.”

“I give up,” Kili grinned back.

“I put up Christmas decorations,” Fili said proudly.

Kili frowned, sure that he had misheard, “What?”

“Christmas decorations,” Fili repeated, “Let me see if I can…” Fili reached forward, fidgeting with the camera to change the direction it was facing.

Kili squinted, nose almost touching the small glass rectangle in, and tried to make out what Fili was trying to show him.

“See? There? Over the door?” Fili said, holding the camera up trying to give Kili a better view.

“I think so?”

“It’s not much. No trees or anything, though, now that I think about it, I am a bit surprised that Matt didn’t bring any of those on board. He had me hanging faux greenery garlands, lights, tinsel, and baubles. He also has a whole bunch of wrapping paper, tape, ribbons and such for presents.” Fill returned the camera to its stand and sat back. 

“Are you going to be giving each other astronaut ice cream or other dried food stuff?”

“I don’t really know. It’s not like any of us can run out to the mall to buy something, or hop on the internet and have it show up on our doorstep within twenty-four hours. He did say something about crafting, but,” Fili shrugged. “You know how I am with crafting.”

“You’re just comparing yourself to Bilbo. And he’s practically a wizard.”

“I guess,” Fili said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Enough about life on a floating metal tube. What did you do this week.”

Kili sat back into the couch cushions. The light emitting from the woodburning stove flickered. “It snowed.”

“Oh? You know, I never thought I’d say it, but I actually miss the snow and cold. The ship is cold, especially in the hallways and lesser used rooms, but it’s cold without a purpose other than conserving fuel. Cold that brings snow? At least there’s an upside.”

“Are you sure you miss snow? Maybe you can take over shoveling when you get back. It took me hours to clear the driveway the other day. I did just leave it for a while. And then it snowed more, and I’m still not sure if waiting was a good thing or not because of that. I only had to shovel once instead of twice, but there was more to shovel in one go.” Kili ran a hand through his long hair.

“I’ll shovel all the snow you want me too when I get home,” Fili replied.

“Good.”

“As long as you make me that hot chocolate of yours.”

“I can, but it’s not that hard. I even taped the recipe card to the top of the cocoa tin.”

“It’s never right when I’m the one making it.”

“I’ve watched you make it. It’s correct.”

“Must be the love that you add.”

Kili stuck out his tongue to cover up his pleasure at Fili’s words. “Oh! I also saw an elk when I took a short hike before clearing the snow.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t a reindeer? It is the season.”

“It’s Colorado, not Sweden or Canada.”

“Did it have a red nose?”

“No,” Kili said. He leaned back on the couch, slouching deep into the cushions. “I miss you.”

Fili’s expression softened. “I miss you, too.”

“It… it doesn’t feel like Christmas without you here.”

“Are you going to put up any decorations?”

“I did put up some,” Kili shrugged despondently. 

“Show me?”

Kili held his phone up and turned it so Fili could see the green tree standing in the corner of the room with its garland, lights, and ornaments. 

“Looks good, Kee.”

Kili turned the camera back around. “Eh,” he shrugged. “I didn’t put on all the baubles. And most of the boxes are still in the attic.”

“You don’t have anyone ordering you to decorate. Do what you want. You don’t have to put up any decorations.”

“I know.”

“I’m glad you did though. I miss you and I miss doing the holiday activities with you, but I’d hate for you to just not do any of them because you enjoy those things as well.”

Kili nodded, but did not respond right away. “I watched The Santa Clause yesterday.”

“You did?” Fili leaned forward on his elbows, braids swinging over his shoulders. 

“Yeah. I made hot chocolate and had some Christmas cookies that Bilbo had dropped off.”

“Jealous!”

Kili smiled a little. “I put on your Christmas jumper.”

“The jumper with the hole in the elbow?”

“That’s the one. And I had that ridiculous blanket you bought. That one with the ghosts wearing Santa hats and wrapped in Christmas lights over my lap.”

“It’s not ridiculous. It’s wonderful!”

“It was warm.”

“I didn’t think to pack one of your shirts,” Fili said a bit sadly.

“The jumper didn’t smell like you if that makes a difference?” Kili offered. “It smelled of laundry detergent and that stuff we always put in with the sweaters so they don’t smell all funky when we get them out of storage.”

“The herb sachets.”

“Yes. Those. Though I think the one in the bit needs to be replaced before next year.”

“I’ll send you the instructions whenever you need them.”

—

December 23

“Would you look at that?” Matt’s voice was full of awe and wonder. 

He was talking about the planet that they had been approaching for nearly a week and now it was below them and the ship was orbiting the planet that had the familiar, blue, green, and brown of earth, but also some unexpected colors like pink and coral. 

“There should be another moon,” Fili said looking from the planet back to his charts. 

“It’ll show up,” someone said.

“Or it won’t,” someone else quipped. 

As the line between daylight and darkness moved across the planet below lights started to flick on. There were clusters, but they were not near the oceans, like they would be on earth, and they were not connected by slender threads of highways.

“So which navigator gets to go on the cruiser to land on the surface?” Aaron, one of the other Navigators, asked.

The captain opened his mouth to answer the questions, but before he could speak another Navigator spoke up. “It should go by seniority.”

“You would suggest that, Zach,” Fili said. “Since you are the most senior member of the navigation crew.”

“And the most experienced,” Zach replied. “I have done this sort of thing before, and experience is invaluable in situations like this.”

“But the people are responding well to our communications,” Alexandra, the youngest Navigator said, “Do you really think that there’ll be trouble?”

“No,” the captain said quickly.

“But there’s always a chance,” Zach added. 

“It would be a great learning experience…” she said wistfully. Alexandra had not finished her college degree before taking the job. She had accepted her position on the ship and her university pressured her professors into grading her work and awarding her degree in the middle of a semester. “Maybe I should join whoever goes, to help with any instruments and such.”

“We should draw lots,” Aaron said. “That’s the only fair way to do it.”

“Like drawing pieces of paper from a hat?” Alexandra asked.

“It will be Fili,” the captain said, interrupting the conversation about how people should draw lots, which methods were easier, and which ones were statistically more fair. 

“That’s not fair,” Zach protested.

“But it is what I have decided,” the captain said firmly, giving Zach and any other Navigators who looked like they might protest a dark look  from beneath bushy grey eyebrows. “Alexandra.”

“Yes, captain?”

“You may accompany us.”

“Thank you, sir! I won’t let you down!” she gushed. 

“Both of you will be ready to depart at 1100 hours.”

“Yes, captain,” Fili and Alexandra said in unison.

Fili went back to his charts and calculations and tried to ignore the jealous glares that his crewmates were shooting him.

—

December 24

“You did what?!” Kili’s eyes went wide as he listened to Fili.

“The captain picked me to join him on the trip down to the surface,” Fili repeated, eyes bright and practically glowing in the dim light of the Comms room. “You should have been there, Kili,” he said dreamily. “It was something else. There were mountains unlike any that I have ever seen before. And we were received in a building that reminded me of that trip we took to Europe when we saw all of those cathedrals. Except this one had nothing to do with any sort of religion. It was just a standard building.”

“That sounds like it would be a bit weird.”

“It was,” Fili admitted. “Every building that we saw was ornately decorated.”

“Did the meeting at least go well? Or is that classified and I’ll find out the public version of events on the news in a week or so?”

Fili’s brows furrowed. “I think it went well, but, to be honest, I was not really paying attention to any sort of negotiations. My job stopped the second we got out of the cruiser pod and started when we got back in. I was mostly looking at the people and the architecture.”

Kili settled back into the armchair with the holiday ghost blanket pulled up to his chin, “What were the people like?”

“For the most part they looked like us, actually,” Fili said. “Which was not what I was expecting.”

“For the most part?”

“They had pointed ears, Kee, like Spock.”

Kili’s fingers went to his ears where he pinched the top to create a Spock-like crease. “Interesting.”

“But I want to hear about your day,” Fili said.

“Yours was much more exciting than mine,” Kili adjusted the blanket. “I went over to Bilbo’s for Christmas Eve dinner. He made ham. I took rolls like we always do.”

Fili nodded and listened as Kili told him about the holiday gathering and how the younger generation had started a game of Spoons that had ended when someone nearly got a concussion after being pushed into a wall but after someone had needed to use a first aid kit to treat a bleeding finger.

Fili leaned forward, his chin resting in his palm, “Did you play?”

“No!” Kili said emphatically. “But it is weird not being one of the kids, you know? I’m one of the grown ups now. Not that we’ve been kids or sat at the kids table in a longtime. It just felt more obvious this year. Bilbo managed to foist off planning the New Years’ planning on to Ori, Gimli, and I. I did warn him that he should expect to have just bags of chips and maybe some dip.”

“What did he say to that?” 

“Uh,” Kili looked at the ceiling for a moment. “He laughed and then said, ‘Kili, my boy, you’re all in your 30s. I’m sure you can manage a sandwich platter from a deli at the very least.”

“And did that end up falling on you?”

“I put “ordering a sandwich platter” in my planner for Monday. Gimli can manage napkins, maybe.”

“And hopefully this year they won’t be wet and say Starbucks on them,” Fili laughed. 

“Hopefully,” Kili echoed. 

“So are you ready for tomorrow?” Fili asked.

“No,” Kili said.

“What are you planning to do?”

“I’ll probably sleep in since I plan to stay up late tonight watching whatever movies they decided to air on the TV. I ended up watching Last Christmas the other night on some such channel and it was decent. So I’m going to give some of those ridiculous holiday made-for-tv romcoms a chance on the off chance that they’re decent.”

“Sounds good. I think someone is hosting a Christmas movie marathon in one of the common lounges tonight.”

“You should go.”

“I’ll think about it,” Fili said with a shrug. “So you’ll be sleeping in because you’ll be up late tonight; what about tomorrow?”

Kili lifted his shoulders noncommittally and scootched lower into the corner of the arm chair. “Probably sleep late, like you said, maybe go on a run if it’s not too cold.”

“Heathen.”

“I know,” Kili replied before continuing. “Then probably some leftovers for lunch and dinner, read some, light a fire.” Kili shrugged again. “There’s not much going on tomorrow. All the group plans have already taken place and they avoided the day of Christmas to avoid conflicting with family plans. You?”

“I actually drew the short straw and I have to work most of tomorrow.”

Kili pulled a face, “Gross.”

“I know.”

“Hey, we’re almost out of time.”

“Already?” Kili whined and pulled the blanket up over his chin.

“And I have one final thing to tell you.”

“What?”

“After we hang up I want you to go look in my underwear drawer.”

“What will I be looking for? Holiday underwear? Boxers that say ‘Unwrap me?’”

“No,” Fili laughed. “No boxers saying that. Though maybe I’ll have to find some when I get home. No, you’ll know it when you see it.”

“Okay…” Kili said skeptically.

“Love you, Kee.”

“Love you, too.”

“Merry Christmas.”

The connection was lost before Kili could reply. He sighed and dropped his head back, his hand holding the phone dropping into his lap. Then he put his phone down and pushed the blanket to the floor. 

The wood-burning stove kept the cottage fairly warm when someone was home all day to tend it, but the floors where air from the drafty doors was still cold on Kili’s feet. He pushed open the bedroom door and flipped the lightswitch which lit a couple of lamps that were positioned throughout the room. “What did you hide in with your underwear, Fili Durin?” Kili asked the empty room. 

Fili’s drawer squeaked from long disuse when Kili opened it. All he saw at first were rows of Fili’s neatly folded white underwear. Kili pulled the drawer out a little further and caught sight of a glittery red ribbon. He fished the object out of the back corner of the drawer. It was a small package, wrapped in brown paper and tied with a red ribbon. The label said “To K, from F.” And there was a card tucked under the ribbon.

Open Me First 

Kili flopped down on their bed, leaving the drawer open. He squirmed a little on the bed currently decked out in the gray linen duvet cover that was too warm to use during the summer, and some flannel sheets with a holiday themed fuzzy blanket thrown over one corner to get comfortable. 

He set the wrapped package to one side. He ran his fingers over the slightly rough duvet cover absentmindedly while he stared at the envelope considering his options and savoring the anticipation. Kili flipped the envelope over, stuck his finger beneath the flap and tore the envelope to reveal a Christmas card with a standard scene of a snowy forest and a trite greeting on the front.

Kili opened the card.

Dear Kili,

I’m sorry that I’m not home for Christmas this year. I want you to know that I love you and I miss you, and I will be thinking about you all day. I did not want you to feel lonely this year, so I planned a surprise for you, but you don’t get to find out until Christmas morning! (Or you could find out now, I can’t enforce rules from 3,000,000 miles away.)

Love you and can’t wait to see you again soon!

Yours,

Fili

P.S. Have one of those wonderful hot chocolates of yours for me, please!

Kili considered the instructions for a few moments before taking the package in hand and returning to the living room with the wood burning fireplace and the Christmas tree. Kili carefully set the package down on the plaid tree skirt.

He straightened and considered the present for a moment. Then he picked up the blanket from the floor, folded it, and went into the kitchen to make the hot chocolate that he was supposed to drink for Fili. Once it was ready and loaded with whipped cream and chocolate shavings he returned to the living room, settled in on the couch, feet outstretched towards the stove, and turned on the television. He flipped through the stations until he found something worth watching. 

—

Fili had gone to bed after ending his call with Kili. His bunk mate had lit a peppermint scented candle, and it felt a little festive. But if Fili had been on duty on the main navigation deck he would have seen the shadow of a sleigh drawn by reindeer pass in front of the double moons of the planet they were orbiting. 

—

Kili drank the hot chocolate and watched the predictable foibles and shenanigans of the main characters. But he did not see how it ended. By the time that the happy ending had rolled around Kili was asleep, head lolled to the side, and warm beneath the blanket.

Outside his window the moon was shining bright and the world was light in the blue light of reflected moonlight. And then, across the moon, a silhouette briefly appeared of a sleigh and eight tiny reindeer.

[two-hands-toward-the-sun]

Hiding by Florence + The Machine is such a Calliope and Dream song

Hi anon!! Florence + The Machine isn’t my usual type of music but your ask made me 👀👀👀 so I listened to the song and ohmygod. I hope you don’t mind if I write a breakdown of some of the lyrics? I…may have gotten a bit carried away. I’ll stick most of this under a read-more because there is simply Too Much.

I think you hide / When all the world’s asleep and tired / You cry a little

ALL RIGHT STRAIGHT OFF THE BAT WE’VE GOT SOME EMOTIONS HERE. I will say it a thousand times, it speaks volumes to me that though Dream is billions of years old and has had a number of lovers, Calliope is the only one he married. As we see in Brief Lives, Dream does sometimes break down. You know that panel of him sitting in his chair with his hand over his face? Yeah. Fuck. As his lover, as his wife, Calliope may have witnessed something like this or at least suspected it. I’m imagining a situation where Orpheus as a young child has an minor accident, and Calliope and Dream have to just. Stop. And cope with the knowledge of his mortality together.

I know that you’re hiding / I know there’s a part of you that I just cannot reach / You don’t have to let me in / Just know that I’m still here

Now this is GOOD SHIT. It goes both ways with these two!!! Dream would never know what it was like to experience the abuse Calliope survived, would never force her to tell him about it. Calliope would never understand the weight of what it means to contain the world’s collective unconscious, to have to be so rigid with yourself to the point of pain. But these lyrics speak to steadfastness. While we don’t see much indication (either comics or show) that they will be there for each other in the future, in the show we see the tenderness between them so clearly in Calliope pressing her cheek to Dream’s, Dream’s eyelids fluttering shut. It’s VERY easy to expand on that and explore in fic and headcanon that they would again forge a supportive relationship—bolstered by the character development Dream has had since their marriage—and work together to try to heal. I’ve written that myself!

I know you’ve tried / But something stops you every time

Hahahahahaha. Oh my god. I am hitting Dream with a stick.

And it’s your pride / That’s keeping us still so far apart / But if you give a little / So will I

HELLOOOOO. Okay, so I know the initial reaction is to probably apply this to Dream, which, yes, he is one proud motherfucker. But I think Calliope certainly has her own share of pride, although not to the extent of her ex-husband. (I’d say in her episode, we see more of the like, self-worth, I-know-what-I-deserve type of pride. Which is good!!! I adore that about her!!!) She did not want to yield over those thousands of years, either. And she will not beg. She will request—may I visit you in the Dream Realm sometime, so that we may finally talk about our son, and grieve him properly?—but she will not beg. But! If Dream gives a little!! So will she!!!

I know I seem shaky / These hands not fit for holding

THESE HANDS NOT FIT FOR HOLDING. JESUS CHRIST. This is, of course, a lyric that shouts and screams Dream at me. I am in pain. I’m thinking of the way he says, “I owe you that much.” The word owe stands out to me—I think it may indicate that he has become aware he did not always treat Calliope as she should be treated, and he feels he has to make up for that in some way. I’m thinking about how he says, “I’ve learnt much in recent times,” and how that suggests he may have been reevaluating his role in Orpheus’s fate. How he could have acted differently. And with that, I think it made him consider Calliope’s reproach in a new way. It doesn’t seem like too much of a stretch to me that Dream would feel like his hands are not fit for holding Calliope’s anymore.

ANYWAY. That was a whole lot of probably incoherent chatter and I hope at least you enjoyed reading it, anon. Anyone reading this, feel free to send me asks about songs that remind you of the characters or dynamics that I post about often. Although I have to say, if it’s a Taylor Swift song I probably won’t listen to it, sorry.

Thanks again for the ask, anon!!!

[blu-joons]

Newlywed Routine ~ Kim Minseok

Your smile instinctively grew as you headed in the direction of the kitchen to find Minseok already in there. He was busy scrolling through his phone, unaware that you had made your way down the stairs until your hands rested against his shoulders, peering over the top of his left one.

A soft kiss was placed to his cheek by you before stepping away from him, moving around the table across to where two mugs were waiting for you.

“What do you fancy this morning?” Minseok asked you as he stood up from his chair, “remember that cooking isn’t my strong point before answering.”

“Something simple is alright,” you smiled, pressing down for the kettle to boil, “I’ll let you decide, you know what your limits up.”

Minseok nodded as he reached into the cupboard and pulled down two bowls. “In that case, how does cereal sound to you?” He joked, grabbing the boxes from the top of the fridge.

Your head nodded with a laugh as Minseok placed the cereal boxes down that you had before grabbing the milk from the fridge, the perfect, and easiest of the breakfasts.

As he did so, you grabbed the coffee from the tin just beside the kettle, filling up the two mugs that Minseok had already gotten out. A giggle escaped from you as you looked at what mugs he had gotten out, turning to face him.

“How much use are you going to get out of these Mr and Mrs mugs you?” You asked him.

A shrug of the shoulders came from Minseok as he glanced at the two mugs that were in your hands to show him. He couldn’t get enough of seeing them, the perfect wedding gift from Sehun that somehow seemed to fit in perfectly in your kitchen too.

“I reckon until it sinks in that the two of us are married,” Minseok informed you as the kettle pinged behind you. “That day will probably never come though.”

“We’ve only been married just over a week,” you laughed, “I’d hope the novelty doesn’t wear off for a long time yet.”

Minseok nodded back at you as you turned back around to finish off your drinks, joining him at the table as soon you as you were done.

“Doesn’t this feel like the breakfasts we used to eat when I was a trainee?”

“I feel like I’m a student again, cereal and coffee, it’s a long way off what we ate last week.”

You had somewhat gotten used to being able to eat whatever you wanted over the past week on your honeymoon, but now you were back in the real world. You had no one making breakfast for you, no self-serve to fill yourself up on either, it was all on you too.

A hum came from Minseok as he poured out his cereal, “I really don’t want to go back to work.”

“You can tell everyone about the honeymoon though Min.”

His head nodded as he passed the cereal box across to you. “None of them will want to hear about the honeymoon Y/N, they’re all miserable and single.”

“What about the wedding them?” You tried to suggest instead.

Another hum escaped Minseok, “how about if I sit them down and tell them all of the embarrassing things that they did during the reception?”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve got some videos lying around,” you informed him.

“Send them,” Minseok quickly instructed you. “I want every bit of evidence that you have against the boys that I can use against them today.”

Your head nodded as you placed the cereal back down. “You sound as if you’re going to blackmail them with this footage or something?”

“A little,” Minseok admitted in a whisper, “I’m not going to talk about the wedding all day, but I at least want half an hour on it.”

You could hear in his voice straight away just how serious Minseok was, he wanted to talk about the wedding to anyone that would listen. Even as you simply picked up your Mrs cup to take a sip out of it, it made Minseok’s stomach knot with excitement.

“I could weirdly get used to this,” he commented, placing the milk away once you were both done, “there’s a simplicity about coffee and cereal in the morning.”

“It feels like a married couple who’ve given up,” you joked in reply.

Minseok’s eyes rolled as you picked up your spoon to start eating, finding yourself somehow looking forward to your simple breakfast. You had had enough fancy food whilst getting married and holidaying, it felt nice to be normal again.

“I can’t believe I have to go to work now though,” Minseok sniggered, “this sort of meal just calls for a day on the sofa with loads of movies.”

“You know we’ve got the rest of our lives to do that now,” you smirked.

Minseok’s head nodded back at you, reminding himself of all the time you had ahead of you. Even after a week he found himself needing to be pinched to make sure that what had happened really was real and not some sort of dream for him.

“It feels weird thinking I’m going to work as a husband,” Minseok suddenly told you.

“You’re just going into work like usual though?”

His head shook as you spoke, “I’m going to have so many people wanting to hear about the honeymoon or compliment me on the wedding. I have a feeling that today is going to be all about me at the studio.”

Your eyes rolled at the wide grin that was on Minseok’s face, “it’s not just you that gets all the attention when it’s about our wedding.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell everyone about you too,” Minseok assured you, “mainly I’ll tell them just how incredible you looked throughout the whole wedding.”

Your smile turned up as Minseok managed to charm his way out of digging himself a hole. “I think I married you because you know all the right things to say.”

“That’s what the boys keep saying,” Minseok groaned, “they keep telling me that I must have talked you into marrying me because they still think I’m punching.”

“Ignore them,” you assured Minseok with a chuckle, nudging gently against your arm. “Just think of them all sat in their apartments having breakfast all by themselves this morning whilst you get to be at home with me.”

Minseok hummed in agreement with you, knowing that one day the others would all get to live through the fun that he was having. Just having you there was perfect, but knowing what was to come was even better for him.

“We should do this more often,” Minseok told you as the conversation seemed to quieten down again.

Your eyebrows knitted together in reply, “you mean sit at the table and stuff our faces with cereal?” You asked him.

“No, I mean sit down and eat and drink out of these mugs,” Minseok told you, “that way we can remind ourselves that we really are stuck with one another for the rest of our lives, no turning back.”

“You make being married to me sound like a chore,” you joked, “you’re not stuck with me, you’re supposed to enjoy being with me.”

“I’m only messing,” he laughed, “you know that there is nothing more that I want than to spend the rest of my time with you.”

“I know, you said so I think about a thousand times on our wedding day.”

“I just wanted to make sure you knew.”

---

Masterlist

[ncisfranchise-source]

NCIS: Sydney 1×04 “Ghosted” takes a closer look at who Michelle Mackey is. It only peels back one layer off the onion, but it does a lot to round out a character that started as the straight, tough, serious boss, but who has always been so much more.

DeShawn always knew it. JD kind of suspected it. And the rest of the team has already gotten a clue about it. And even if NCIS: Sydney is not yet at the place where everyone knows, the growth is clear. It’s only been four episodes. We still have four episodes to go this season. Imagine what we can get in those, or with a second, longer season.

Trust Is A Journey

Mackey and JD have come a long way, but they’re not there yet. And yet the fact that Mackey is willing to let JD in to the point that she has – the point where he knows that she’s keeping a secret, and she knows that he knows, is already a big deal. They’re not there yet, of course. And Mackey is afraid that if she lets JD in, if she lets anyone in the team see her vulnerabilities, she won’t be able to be an effective leader.

But Mackey has never had a team like the one she has now. In this team, vulnerability isn’t a weakness. And her team won’t think less of her if they learn she’s human. They might respect her more. JD surely will.

There is, of course, time to get there. For Mackey to understand. For the team to prove this to her. And it all starts with J.D. He is Mackey’s partner in all of this, the person by her side, the one breaking down her walls, little by little. And that means he’ll be the one who will, one day, get to see the other side of the woman she’s becoming – the one who is learning little by little what it means to actually have a team you can trust not just with your life, but with your heart.

A Time and A Place for Everything (And Everyone)

This episode does a great job of balancing the dynamics between Mackey and J.D and Evie and DeShawn with what’s going on with Blue and Dr. Penrose. Mackey and J.D carry the emotional burden of “Ghosted,” but it’s Evie and DeShawn who do most of the legwork in this hour. Does the case get solved without them? Unlikely.

But their dynamic is also explored, even if not as deeply as J.D and Mackey’s. What we’ve gotten from them has been a lot more banter-y and light, because they are not as serious as J.D and Mackey, which is perfectly fine. The last thing you want is for the dynamics to skew too similar. The characters have to distinguish themselves, and so far, they have. If we’re rooting for Evie and DeShawn, it’s gotta be because we want them together because of who they are and what they bring to each other – not because of anything that has to do with J.D or Mackey.

There isn’t much more to say other than, four episodes in, the show has done enough to convince me, a procedural old-timer, that there’s enough here to sustain the test of time. Now comes the hard part: keeping it up.

Things I think I think:

DeShawn’s Deek’s vibes were STRONG in this episode. The whole “law school” thing?

Actually, Evie and DeShawn were giving Densi.

JD, meanwhile, was the softest he’s ever been. We stan a man who just takes a step back and offers silent support.

The first time he and Mackey make some sort of gesture of mutual affection, the fandom might combust.

Blue’s awkwardness is the highlight of every episode.

Either that or Doctor Penrose’s matter-of-fact commentary on, you know, death.

[blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms]

The Only Lesbian- Robin Buckley

Pairing: Robin Buckley x Henderson!Reader

Characters: Robin Buckley

Warnings: N/A

Request: Anon- OMG SAW U TAKE REQUESTS FOR ROBIN!!! Please do one with Robin x Dustin's Older sister reader HAHAH i think it would be funny to see their dynamic

Word Count: 772

Author: Charlotte

When you needed to find your brother, you had always known where to go. A year ago, you would have been straight to the Wheeler’s to pick him up from playing D&D with his friends, but now if you needed him, he was going to be with Steve Harrington. You had been in the same year as him at school and never really got along, and as Dustin tried to remind you that had had changed a lot recently, you still found it a little odd that your brother was now such good friends with him.

You headed to Scoops Ahoy to find him, knowing that was where Dustin had headed out to this morning. Since Steve had been hired there, you had avoided going to Scoops Ahoy and with Dustin being at camp, you didn’t have reason to go but now that he was back, you didn’t get a choice.

You walked up to the counter, not seeing Dustin or Steve but a pretty woman about your age, wearing a sailor’s costume.

“What can I get you?” She asked.

Blood rushed to your cheeks as she spoke to you. She was vaguely familiar, probably having passed her at school at some point but having never gotten to know her or paid much attention.

“My brother is meant to be hanging out here, curly hair, a complete nerd,” you explained, trying to keep your words straight and not make a fool of yourself in front of someone you found attractive.

“One of Steve’s children,” she said.

You nodded your head. “Yeah, he’s like our unpaid babysitter for Dustin. I don’t understand their friendship, but I somewhat trust him to keep my brother alive.”

She gestured you to come around the counter into the back where Steve was sat, slacking from work but without sign of your brother.

“Where’s Dustin?” You asked. “My mum wants him home for dinner after we’ve barely seen since you two have been up to whatever you’re doing.”

“He’ll be back in a few minutes,” Steve said.

You let out a sigh, not knowing what you were going to do whilst you waited for him to return. You looked around the room, noticing a whiteboard with the English alphabet lined up with what you guessed was Russian.

“So, this is where Dustin came to translate that recording?” You asked. “He mentioned it to me but supposedly I wasn’t trustworthy enough to help him fight Russians.”

The woman’s eyes lit up. “It was really fun to translate the message, Steve and Dustin were quite useless at it, but I figured it out. I had never considered learning Russian before, but I might now.”

“You did it?”

She nodded.

“Dustin’s way of telling the story was very different, of course he missed out that someone else did it. Like when he didn’t tell me that he’d kept a baby Demogorgon in our house and let it eat our cat.”

Her eyes widened. “It ate your cat?”

You nodded your head. “He’s very intelligent but he’s a complete idiot. I honestly thought I’d be worrying about my brother dating or his schoolwork, not the fact he was fighting interdimensional beings and now the KGB.”

She snorted as she laughed, instantly flushing red, embarrassed by the noise she made. Steve looked between the two of you, seeing the awkward laughter and pleasant smiles but nothing more being able to come from it between the two of you.

“Can I say something?” Steve asked.

“Can we stop you?” She retorted.

He rolled his eyes. “I know I promised not to say anything Robin, and I also promised Dustin not to tell either, but I think you should both know that you’re batting for the same team.”

Both of your expressions dropped. “What?”

He huffed, running a hand through his messed-up hair from the hat he had to wear at work. “You both like girls and it doesn’t take a genius that you like each other but neither of you will take the risk in fear that the other is straight, so the least I can do is let you both know.”

It felt as though your heart was going to explode out of your chest as you look over to Robin who looked equally as nervous.

“I honestly thought I was the only lesbian in Hawkins,” you admitted.

“There’s at least two of us,” she awkwardly smiled.

You bit down on your lower lip, chewing at the skin. “Well… would you want to maybe go out on a date and get to know each other?”

She nodded her head. “I would love to.”

[digital-corruption]

I've been busy for the past few days so writing and editing has been slow. Please enjoy a longer chapter to make up for it.

Also I decided now to clearly state that Duskwood is in Germany... (while using the US parole system as headcannon cause I can't be bothered researching the German system...) This is why you shouldn't start fanfics before an episode release! 🤣 Maybe one day I'll feel motivated enough to fix up the inconsistencies throughout the series.

Unrecognisable Part 22

The sound of bird morning calls woke me up. Initially I thought I had left a window open as they were so loud. Then I saw my surroundings and remembered where I was. I was still lying on top of Jake in an old barn that had miraculously not fallen down on us through the night.

“Good morning,” Jake kissed my head.

I squinted at him, “Oh God, what time is it?”

He was doing something on his phone, but I couldn’t make it out. He swiped to check the time, “Almost 6.”

“Mmm, I can’t believe I actually fell asleep,” I nuzzled my face against him to block out the light. “You should’ve woken me up.”

“No, it was fine. You needed the rest,” he rubbed light circles on my head with his fingertips.

“What are you doing?” I tried to work out what was on his phone screen.

“Playing Candy Crush,” he answered nonchalantly.

“Wait, what? Seriously?” I lifted my head up. “You’re wasting your phone battery on Candy Crush?”

“Well, no, this is your phone,” he admitted.

“Hey! Give me that!” I grabbed the phone from his hands and sat up.

“I was bored!” he defended. “Bored and trapped!”

“You could have pushed me off and gotten up!” I shook my head as I closed the app.

“You were too cute,” he smirked.

“Here I thought you were doing something sensible like working out how the hell to get out of here and… shit! We’ve got like 10 hours to get to Colville!” I exclaimed.

“We only need four,” Jake assured. “And yes, I’ve already checked our location.”

“We still need to get out of here,” I looked around the barn, then back at Jake. “How are you feeling?”

He sighed and lifted himself to a sitting position slowly, wincing as he moved his limbs, “I’ll live.”

“That’s as reassuring as ever,” I rolled my eyes.

“And you?” he gestured to my lower back.

“Sore,” I touched it gingerly. “But I'll live.”

“Think you can ride the bike again?” he questioned.

“Hang on, it’s you we should be worried about!” I argued. “You really think you can get back on?”

“I have endured far worse,” he pointed out. “I'll go slower this time.”

“You most definitely will!” I glared at him.

He tried to keep a straight face, but started laughing, “You saw me kill seven people yesterday and yet you don’t hesitate to threaten me. It’s cute, endearing even.”

“I'm not scared of you,” I shrugged. “Especially in your current condition, I could out run you.”

“Maybe I let you believe you could out run me,” he smirked. “Who doesn’t love a good chase?”

“You can’t fool me,” I got up and stretched my back. “I know you’re in a lot of pain.”

“But I know how to shut out pain to get what I want,” he grinned devilishly.

I poked his shoulder and he yelped in pain, “Real scary, monster boy.”

Jake grabbed my wrist with a growl and yanked me down to the ground beside him. I hit the hay on my side, then was immediately forced onto my back. Jake pinned my limbs down with his before I could react. I tried to move my arms, but he held them down firmly.

“That hurt, you son of a bitch!” I yelled.

“Remember who you’re dealing with,” he hissed. “I got myself out of those mines, I can ride that fucking bike.”

“Give me the other Jake back,” I frowned.

“No, he’s weak,” his expression grew darker. “If it wasn't for me, he would’ve died in those mines.”

“We’re not in danger, give him back,” I insisted.

“Maybe I don’t want to,” he leant over and licked my cheek. “Maybe he doesn’t want to, either.”

“We don’t have time for this,” I struggled to remain calm. “Fine, you can handle the bike. Point proven.”

“Do you think anyone would hear you if you screamed right now?” he smiled sadistically. “There’s no one for miles! You could scream all you want and no one would hear you.”

“Are you done?” I raised my eyebrow. “We have to get to Colville, remember?”

“But look,” Jake gestured to the side with his head. “You'd look so beautiful tied to the wooden beam there. I could’ve done it while you slept, you know. You wouldn’t have even noticed.”

“What, do you want a cookie for being a good boy?” I rolled my eyes.

“I don’t think you understand how much I have to restrain myself with you,” he turned back to me. “You act so strong and brave, but you're oh so vulnerable. It’d be a pity if I were to abuse that.”

“Stop,” I bit my lip.

“Stop,” he mocked. “Make me.”

Jake leant down and started alternating between kissing and sucking my neck. I wiggled underneath him, but I couldn’t escape his hold.

“Red light, Jake,” I shook my head. “We need to go.”

Jake immediately pulled up and pouted, “Mood killer.”

“Save it for after we get Richy denied parole!” I poked his stomach. “Think of it as motivation.”

Jake laughed and stood up to stretch out, “I didn’t need any, but I'll take it. On a more serious note, we need to work on your self-defence because that was pathetic.”

I got up and dusted myself off, “Gee, thanks. How about you teach me a few things then?”

“Gladly,” he smiled as he picked up his helmet. “When I'm not so sore. For now, let’s go find something to eat and maybe pick up a new ride on the way.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I chuckled as I bent over to grab my helmet to put it on. “You have a place in mind already?”

“Yes, there’s a rest stop with a diner not far from here, which meets both requisites,” he explained as he put his gloves on.

I lifted our bag off the ground and slung it over my shoulder while put his backpack on. He grabbed the dirt bike and pushed it across the barn. I held the door open to give him extra clearance while he exited. Before joining Jake on the dirt bike, I took one last look at the old barn that had sheltered us.

Jake rode considerably more slowly and carefully across the empty fields until we finally reached the road 30 minutes later. The one lane road was empty and weaved through densely forested areas. On a normal day I'd appreciate the clean, fresh air. However, that day was anything but normal.

Eventually the road merged with a busier two-lane highway. Not even five minutes later, the bike started to sputter. Jake pulled off immediately to the side.

“That's as far as the tank can take us,” he sighed as we got off. “Help me move it into the bushes.”

With one of us on each side, we pushed the bike through the trees into the middle of dense bushes and dumped our helmets with it. Jake grabbed some fallen tree branches and tossed them on top to cover everything a little more.

“The diner shouldn't be much further,” he assured me as we took off on foot again.

Truck after truck sped past us as we walked down the shoulder of the highway. Thankfully, Jake was right, the diner was just around the bend, but given the last day of travelling, I was already feeling rather worn out.

Navigating through the parking lot of the diner, Jake scoped out potential new rides. Most of them were trucks of all sizes, some with trailers and some without. There were only a couple of cars, which meant his choices were limited. Breakfast first though, then car theft.

Being the gentleman he was, Jake opened the door of the diner for me to enter first. The inside was like a normal trucker's diner with a long bar space for individuals and a few booths for the occasional group when they had them. Beside the kitchen window a TV was mounted to the wall airing the morning news.

The bar itself was full of truck drivers shovelling breakfast into their mouths in silence with one lone middle-aged waitress refilling their coffee mugs. She looked at me and said something in German to us. I barely knew any German, but by the tone of her voice I could tell it wasn't a greeting.

“I have no idea what she said,” I commented quietly to Jake.

“She said we look like shit,” Jake put a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

He responded to the woman in German. It was the first time I heard him speak his native language and although I had no idea what he was saying, I felt like I understood him just by watching him. They spoke back and forth a few times until Jake responded with one of the few words I knew, “Danke.”

“I told her that our car had broken down and we've been walking all night to find reception,” he explained. “She said the bathrooms are at the back, if you want to freshen up.”

“That sounds good,” I smiled at the woman. “Danke.”

The waitress kept her eyes on us as we headed to the back. Even the truckers started giving us sideways glances. I wasn't sure if it was because they don't get many tourists or if they had somehow recognised us, but Jake was calm and collected so I tried to mirror him.

There was a single stall each for men and women so we went our separate ways. Washing my hands after using the toilet, I eyed myself in the mirror. The woman was right, I did look like shit. I only had a few hours sleep in the barn after all. I washed my face as best as I could, then applied some basic make-up up to try to resemble a human being again. It wasn't the best transition, but it'd have to do.

After I finished up, I surprised to find Jake wasn't waiting outside the bathroom. Stepping out, I spotted him sitting at the closest booth facing the front door. He was busy reading the menu, or at least trying to pretend he was. One of the more hardened trucker’s was watching him from the bar. Surely Jake had noticed, right? He just determined the driver wasn't a threat, right? I rejoined Jake at the table and tried my hardest to not look back at the driver.

“Anything good?” I asked picking up my menu.

“Just your standard range of breakfast food,” he shrugged.

“I, uh, can't read any of this,” I admitted once I realised it was just a laminated text printout with no pictures, all in German.

“What do you want? I'll order for you,” he offered.

“Eggs, bacon, toast... the works really,” I sighed. “I feel hungover without the alcohol. Where's the fun in that?”

Jake lowered his menu and smirked smugly at me, “I'm glad you're starting to appreciate the necessity of food and eating well when you can.”

“I'd rather not think about it right now,” I shook my head. “Is it just me or are they staring at us?”

“Oh, they’re staring. Truckers don't really care for civilians invading their hangouts. It's like we're interrupting their secret club meeting,” he answered nonchalantly.

The waitress came over to take our orders. Jake ordered for us in German. There was something about the way that he spoke the language that had me entranced. Even though he was just literally ordering breakfast, I was hanging onto his every word.

“Is my Deutsch making you that flustered?” he laughed.

“Um, the language just sounds better from your lips,” I blushed.

“Ich liebe dich,” he smiled.

“I have no idea what that means,” I looked at him confused.

“Guess,” he teased.

I stared at him and tried to read from his expression and the context the meaning of what he said to me. “You think I'm cute?”

He chuckled, “No, I definitely think you're cute, but I said ‘I love you'.”

“Oh! I love you too!” I felt so bad for not getting it. “I am glad though that you remembered to say it outside of a life threatening situation.”

“See? I'm trying,” he joked.

“Oh my God! It just occurred to me that the hearing is going to be in German! What am I going to do!?” I gasped. “It’s not like you can go with me!”

“While I'm sure the board can understand English, your friends will be there and they could translate for you?” he suggested.

“Oh, of course,” I rolled my eyes at my own stupidity. “What am I even going to say?”

“The truth? That he betrayed and used you to bring a legend to life in order to terrorise you and your friends just because he couldn't face his own guilt. That he used his good nature to deceive all of you, so even now, any good behaviour should not be trusted. It is just a show to get early release. He doesn't actually feel remorse,” Jake suggested.

“Yeah, I guess,” I sighed.

“You'll work it out,” he put his hand over mine assuredly.

A special news bulletin suddenly interrupted the morning news. I couldn’t understand what was being said, but it was very clear to me that they were issuing a warning to the public that dangerous fugitives had crossed the border and they were to be on the lookout for us. To my surprise, they were still using the old photo of me and the police sketch of Jake. They showed some of the CCTV footage of the train, but the quality was so poor that you really couldn't make out our faces. Nevertheless, I turned back towards Jake and sunk into the seat, hoping that no one in the diner would put two and two together. Jake squeezed my hand to get my attention. Glancing up at him, he held himself with confidence and strength, but his eyes were piercing, as if he was telling me to get my shit together. He was right of course. Every time I panicked I risked us being exposed. I took a deep breath and tried to relax. Out of nowhere our waitress plopped down our dishes, catching me by surprise and nearly causing me to jump out of my seat. She looked at me oddly, like I had three heads, then said something in German. Jake responded in German, obviously trying to cover for my skittish reaction.

“You need to get a better handle on this,” he whispered while frowning at me. “If you keep acting guilty, people are going to know you’re guilty and that will expose us both.”

“But I'm not even guilty,” I whined. “Well not until yesterday.”

Jake sighed and said nothing. He just ate his breakfast while avoiding eye contact with me.

“What? You’re meant to say something snarky or whatever,” I pressured.

“It’s nothing,” he lied. I kicked his leg under the table. “Ow! What the fuck was that for?”

“I am a woman. It is never nothing so spill,” I glared.

“Just wondering if I should’ve just killed you,” he mumbled.

“What for?” I narrowed my eyes.

“Maybe asking you to handle this is too much for you,” he grumbled. I kicked him again. “Ow! I am definitely going to kill you if you keep kicking me!”

“I can handle it,” I gritted my teeth, then started eating

“Good,” he went back to eating.

I glanced up from my plate and realised I needed to cut the tension between us, “Any thoughts on a ride?”

“Well I always wanted to drive a semi,” he mused.

“You’re not serious,” I laughed.

“How hard could it be?” he shrugged.

“Uh, very?” I shook my head. “Besides, I don’t think we should be crossing any of these guys.”

“I could take them,” he insisted. “But you’re right, their cabs are probably vile cesspits.”

“So a normal sedan?” I proposed.

“Unless you want to walk all the way to Colville,” he said sarcastically, earning him another kick. “You’re really asking to be punished later.”

I stuck my tongue out at him like a true brat and kicked him under the table again.

[spry-the-artist]

I think it's about time I make a post about the Bendy is Henry theory going around. It’s been a thing since the beginning of the franchise, and it only multiplied with this trailer.

And while I do enjoy it immensely, do I believe it? And if I do, what are the specifics?

Well, I want it to be true. But I do see some issues with it. Mainly that we already know that Bendy’s voice actress is female (so either whoever Bendy is, is a girl or this is because young boys tend to be voiced by women) and he’s playing with that train in the trailer. Plus, Lauren (Malice’s voice actress) refers to him as “Baby Benders”. If Henry was Bendy, then it’d be different, right?

Well, here’s why it's not impossible. The biggest thing is that the ink has been known to change the people it consumes, especially when it turned them into a specific character. And this could possibly explain all of that.

The train? Like I said, the ink changes you and when you're turned into a toon, it changes you to be like that character.

The voice? Susie Campbell is voiced by a different actresses than Malice despite being the same person, so presumably, the ink can change your voice.

And finally, Lauren calling him Baby Benders? This one’s a bit harder to explain but 1. I don’t think she can say much about the game 2. If this theory is true, Bendy will still be acting like Bendy for a majority of the game, and 3. We still treat Buddy Lewek like a cute little toon (even those of us who think Buddy and Boris in the games are the same) despite his situation being extremely terrifying.

So do I believe in the theory? It’s definitely possible. I’m quite sure they wouldn't scrap Henry in this game and right now we have to work with the character we have to associate him with. And the only other one we can is... The Ink Demon? Now granted, I’ll make a post about that theory since it's good as well, but I think you understand my point. So unless Henry is a spoiler character, we just have to work with what we have.

Also for crying out loud, Henry’s name is literally 2 letters of from Bendy’s! (/en/y). That was definitely a pun on the Meatly’s part, but maybe the team took it further. Who knows!

Now that we’ve gotten whether or not the theory could be plausible or not out of the way, now let’s talk about how things could go down. This is all speculation of an already speculative theory so I’ll go through a couple options.

First off; our most likely being that we don’t know that Bendy is Henry for most of the game. And neither does Bendy (or well, Henry). Like I stated above, they could be going with the « ink changes people » route.

Here’s how this specific theory would likely go down if this is the case:

Bendy is cute. He acts like a child.

Things are off, especially in certain areas. Memories start sparking bit by bit.

Catalyst event like explicit mention of Henry.

Now, for our second less likely option; It’s a Buddy Lewek situation (if I remember correctly) where Henry’s forced to act like Bendy by a version of Bendy inside his head. Or Bendy has more control. Either way, it’s a situation where Henry is stuck with a Bendy in his head.

This one isn’t as straight forward so I’m assuming it would show cracks of Henry breaking through and it increases before finally Henry gains full control. This would either be bad or good depending on how the game portrays Henry.

Third and last option; Joey’s pulling the strings and making sure Henry is ‘personally’ responsible for another person being stuck down here. Probably either because Joey is a Salty Bitch ™ or Henry somehow messed up the loops (and Joey’s a Salty Bitch ™ about it, like : You want to do something different? Well, I’ll have you do something different!)

How it’d go:

Bendy is either unhelpful or downright messes Audrey up sometimes

Audrey takes it as him being an innocent child

Henry slowly regains control and tries to help

Henry regains full control and explains everything

Joey decides to completely take over and big climax happens

Joey is finally defeated and either Henry regains control or is turned back to whatever the hell he was during the loops. Maybe even human.

So, these are my theories and thoughts. Hopefully you enjoyed this long post.

[thehappiestgolucky]

9 "I would kill for dinner right now." with whoever you want!

9. "I would kill for dinner right now."

“I would kill for dinner right now.”

“Please don’t.”

Tiso glared at Emmet with a flat look of annoyance, watching the other man place the gathered berries into groups, atop a single piece of cloth on the ground. Berries. Wyrm he was so goddamn sick of berries. They didn’t even satisfy him, Tiso feeling that gnawing hunger for most of the day for a week straight now. Gods was there nothing else they could eat? Not one of those water creatures? Anything??

“It’d be better than that.” Emmet only shook his head in response, frowning slightly.

“If we had the right items, we could have made these berries into poffins!”

“Sounds just as shitty.”

“They are not! Poffins are verrrrrrry good, and much more filling than the berries on their own.”

“But we can’t make those.”

Emmet’s face looked apologetic “No.”

Tiso sighed, getting up from his spot against a tree, stretching as he gained a curious eye. Sitting around arguing about food wasn’t getting him anywhere - with getting actual food or closer to their goal - and Tiso couldn’t be bothered sitting around waiting for them to be distributed. Before Emmet could assume, he waved his hand dismissively, “Don’t worry, I’m just going for a walk. See what the kids are doing.” It gained a nod from the other, happily going back to his work unbothered.

The wildlife were strange in this land, with small and very round creatures flying off at the sound of his footsteps. Barry had taken a liking to one, though Tiso had already forgotten what they were called - and the one the teen had gotten just loved to make a shrill sound of surprise whenever someone else approached.

Which was to say the flying creature shrieked at Tiso’s arrival and flapped to hide behind Barry as the two spun around. They were oddly posted up by rocks, observing a village a ways off - with both frowning…oddly enough.

“Oi, don’t scare us like that!”

“Not my fault you have that thing shrieking every two seconds. Whatever, what are you two even doing?”

Barry pouted, pointing towards the village, “Do you see that? An entire place full of criminals!”

“Suspected, criminals.”

“I already said! Do you see that ‘G’ on that big building! That’s the sign of Team Galactic! They’re here!”

Tiso raised a brow, walking next to the boys and focusing on the village in the distance. Ignoring him, the two continued their argument.

“How could they be here though? You’re sayin’ they posted up in a whole village? Surely they would’ve been chased out, considerin’ how well known they are n’ how horrible they are?”

“So they either took over a village or made a village for themselves! Whatever, they need to be taken down!”

“We’ve got nothin’ to stop them with though! Unless you think a Starly is enough!”

“So, what you’re both saying, is that these are like - bad guys? Big bad guys.”

The two faced Tiso again, nodding. At that he grinned, leaning against the rocks.

“So it wouldn’t be bad to steal from them then.”

“What!?” Hop squealed, “We’re not goin’ to steal from anyone! What would you even steal?”

“Food. Yknow, enough for us to be good, besides if you want to make an enemy weak you gotta strike where it hurts. They’re big bad criminals right? Make it easier to stop whatever they’re planning on doing then eh?”

Hop still frowned, uncomfortable at the notion, whilst Barry had grinned widely.

“Yeah! Then when they can’t stop us, we take back all their stolen pokémon!”

“Only enough for us to not be hungry right?”

Tiso sighed, looking down at Hop, though with how ill prepared the other three were to survive in the wild - he wasn’t exactly surprised that he wasn’t ready to do whatever was needed of survive. “What kinda guy do you take me for? Just enough, don't worry.”

“I was beginnin’ to get hungry from just berries…”

[lovesicks4pphic]

Effective Communication

Rating: E

Summary: No longer assigned to the X-Files, Mulder and Scully must attend a team-building conference with the rest of their department. As late additions, they are forced to share the one remaining room.

Written for @xfilesfanficexchange

Read on AO3 here. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

They were in Kersh’s office, a frequent occurrence these days. For once, they hadn’t been called in here to be berated, although it was heading in that direction. Mulder was clearly pissed off regardless.

Scully drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair and stared straight ahead, ignoring Mulder’s outburst. They were already in deep shit after the whole Bermuda Triangle debacle two weeks ago. The last thing she needed was to spend another morning arguing with her superiors and digging her ever-defiant partner out of whatever hole he’d gotten himself into.

“Agent Mulder.” Kersh warned.

“Sir-”

“I will say this wasn’t an easy decision, Agent Mulder. I’d much rather you be at your desk where I can see you. However, I think some time with your team could benefit you both.”

“They’re not my team.” Mulder muttered.

Scully glanced at him then, watching him huff and readjust himself in his seat. They locked eyes for a split second and she tried to subtly shake her head, warn him not to push it. Kersh sighed loudly and their heads snapped back up.

“Whether you like it or not, Mulder, yourself and Agent Scully are part of the Domestic Terrorism department now. You will be attending this conference.”

“Sir, you can’t seriously think this is a good use of our time?”

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t think, Mulder. Besides, I know full well the two of you bailed on the last seminar you were supposed to attend.”

Scully felt Mulder’s eyes dart in her direction.

“Mark my words, there will be none of that tomorrow.” Kersh leaned forward across his desk and gave them a pointed look over his glasses. “Your flight leaves at 7am. You will get on it, you will go to the conference, you will come home. Understood?”

Silence. Scully cleared her throat.

“Yes, sir.”

Kersh nodded, then looked at Mulder.

“Fine. Sir.”

It was blatantly sarcastic but it must have been enough to appease Kersh. Either that or the man simply couldn’t be bothered to entertain this conversation a moment longer.  

“You’re dismissed.”

With that, the agents stood and let themselves out. Mulder held the door for Scully, letting her lead, but his hand was notably absent from its usual spot on her lower back. She could feel the annoyance radiating off of him, a prickle of tension in the air.

As they rounded the corner, she broke the silence.

“That could’ve gone worse, I suppose.”

Mulder stopped, took her forearm in his grasp and pulled her to the side of the hall.

“Scully.” He said. She looked up. God, he was so close, towering over her like this. “They’re making fucking fools out of us. First they take us off the X-Files and now this team-building, team-bonding, kumbaya shit.”

“It’s not just us, Mulder, all the agents from our department have to go.”

“Our department.” He repeated with a scoff. “This thing was organized months ago and we’ve been tagged on at the last minute as some sick kind of punishment. Besides, we’ve been working together for years, we don’t need to work on our communication.”

Scully sighed.

“I know. I can think of a million things I’d rather be doing tomorrow but I don’t think we have a choice.”

It was true. The thought of building furniture towers and making small talk with their colleagues, most of whom found Mulder bizarre and her somehow even more so for willingly associating herself with him, made her want to stick pins in her eyes.

What bothered her more though, what sank and settled as a knot in her stomach, was the idea of ‘bonding time’ with Mulder. Since Diana had appeared on the scene, Scully was aware she had distanced herself from Mulder. Feelings like doubt, like inadequacy and jealousy, seeped out of her into the space between them, pushing him further away as they grew and grew.

Thoughts of that last conference, of wine and cheese, of jokes about sleeping bags and songs about bullfrogs swirled in her mind. The image of her partner curled up in her lap. How things had changed and yet hadn’t at all.

She thought of her tattoo. Constantly moving but never forward. A never-ending cycle always leading her back to the exact same place.

She pushed past Mulder and headed back to her desk.

Their flight out to Florida was severely delayed. On the plus side, it meant they would actually miss half the conference through no fault of their own. Unfortunately, they still had to get up earlier than usual and Scully had to spend four hours in an airport lounge with a very bored and very impatient Mulder.

He had, of course, brought along some files he definitely shouldn’t have access to and read them beside Scully, who interjected with questions and the occasional eye roll. She sipped her second coffee and debated snatching away the bag of sunflower seeds he was holding. He was grazing on them almost unconsciously as he read, files sprawled across his lap. The constant spitting into his empty coffee cup was starting to grate on her but the way he brought his fingers to his lips and swirled his tongue around inside his mouth was causing a whole different kind of frustration.

When they eventually arrived in Tallahassee, they took a cab from the airport rather than a rental. Scully argued that the latter might look suspicious on their expense reports, might make it look like they wanted to take their own route or sneak off. Mulder sighed but ultimately agreed. It had been a long day already.

They finally got to the hotel around 2pm. It was practically empty, save for a couple in the corner who were wrestling with a giant map.

“Are you sure the cabbie dropped us at the right place, Scully?”

Scully looked at the sign on the wall and then down at the documents in her hand. She frowned. It was definitely the correct hotel.

“Can I help you?” The receptionist called over.

Scully picked up her bag and headed to the desk. Mulder followed closely behind her.

“We’re here for the FBI conference?” She explained, though it sounded more like a question. “Our flight was delayed. Agents Scully and Mulder.”

“Oh! Yes, you’re a little late but that’s no problem. Let me see here…”

The receptionist, Jennifer, according to her name tag, tapped away at her keyboard.

“Hm.”

She frowned, licked her thumb, and started flicking rapidly through a stack of papers beside the computer. Scully glanced at the large clock behind the desk. Her foot unconsciously tapped against the tiles.

“Is there a problem?” She asked.

“Yes… I can’t find… Nevermind!” Jennifer pulled a sheet out from the pile. “Dana Scully and Fox Mulder, Washington DC?”

“That’s us.” Mulder flashed her a smile.

Scully thought she saw Jennifer’s cheeks turn the faintest shade of pink. She couldn’t blame her. For someone so solitary he could be so charming when he wanted to be.

Scully wondered, not for the first time, what it would be like to meet him under different circumstances. For him to see her as a stranger, a woman, an object of desire, not his dependable, stubborn little Scully. Would she seduce him? Ask to see his apartment? Let him take her roughly against the wall like she had with Jerse?

“So.” Jennifer started, bringing Scully back to reality. “I can see here that a last-minute request was made for your rooms, however we are actually at full capacity right now.”

“Ok…” Scully replied cautiously. Were they going to have to find somewhere else to stay?

Mulder leaned over, his lips brushing against Scully’s ear.

“Feels like a sign we shouldn’t be here.”

He pulled away and smirked. She ignored him.

Jennifer started typing again.

“Ok!” She clapped her hands together. “We’ve actually had a cancellation for tonight so we should be able to squeeze you in.”

“Great.” Scully said, a little too hastily, eyeing the clock once more.

“However, it is just the one room. I’m so sorry, it’s the best I can do.”

Scully went to accept but Jennifer spoke again.

“I should also mention, it’s a queen room. Is that- are you both comfortable with that?”

Shit.

“Scully.” Mulder turned away from Jennifer again, murmuring directly into Scully’s ear. “I think we should find somewhere else.”

“We’re already running late, Mulder.” Scully said under her breath. “We don’t have time to find another hotel and I will not voluntarily subject myself to Kersh’s wrath when he finds out we missed the conference.”

The whole situation was quickly turning into a nightmare and neither option was looking appealing to her. The prospect of sharing a bed with Mulder made her feel light-headed but she refused to let her feelings for Mulder get her into trouble. Again. They were grown adults. They had survived much worse.

“Scully-”

“We’ll figure it out later. I’m sure there’ll be a solution.”

Mulder’s face was unreadable but Scully’s decision was made.

“We’ll take it, thank you.”

Jennifer smiled, scribbled something on the piece of paper and then ducked underneath the desk to retrieve their keys.

“Ok so you’ve got two keys here. Your room is on the 7th floor and your conference is on floors 2 and 3. When you’re ready, head to the Jefferson room on floor 2 to sign in.”

Keys successfully collected, they thanked Jennifer, and headed for the elevator. They rode to the 7th floor in silence.

“Home, sweet home.” Mulder pushed open the door. Their door.

The room was actually larger than Scully expected and she felt a wave of relief as they stepped inside and set their bags down. They would figure something out.

“I’m just gonna-.” Mulder nodded in the direction of the bathroom. “Meet you down there?”

“Sure.”

After signing in and collecting her pass, Scully slipped into the conference room and found a spot at the back. A few of the agents in front of her turned as she entered and she smiled politely back at them.

Just as the speaker stepped up to the podium, Mulder appeared at her side.

“Buckle up, Scully.” He muttered.

It was a fair warning as the two hours that followed were beyond dull. The topic of the tedious lecture in question was effective communication, which felt slightly ironic.

Scully found herself wishing she were back in that stale airport lounge reading stolen files. In fact, watching paint dry would probably be more enjoyable. All this so Kersh wouldn’t kick off. Right now, she’d rather be yelled at and done with it than sit through another minute of this.

Though she’d be reluctant to admit it, Mulder was the only thing keeping her from total, mind-numbing boredom. Every so often, he’d bump his knee against hers and raise an eyebrow as if to say ‘get a load of this guy’. In some instances, he’d lean in and whisper a sarcastic comment and she’d smile despite herself.

It reminded her of that first year they’d spent together, before her abduction, when things were simpler and her little crush on him had been just that. She didn’t have regrets, couldn’t have regrets. Everything that had happened to her was a consequence of her own decisions, as much as Mulder might argue he was to blame. But if she thought about it for too long, a distinct ache formed in her chest. A nostalgia for how hopeful they’d been. A longing for feelings so uncomplicated.

Finally, finally, the lecture came to a close and the agents were guided into an anteroom so the main room could be reset. At least there were refreshments. Scully poured herself a coffee.  

She winced as she took her first sip. It wasn’t the worst she’d had but it was certainly up there.

“Pretty vile, huh?” Mulder said from behind her. His ability to seek her out never seemed to fail him.

“Mm.” She grimaced but took another sip. If the next few hours were anything like the last then she needed more caffeine.

They only got a few minutes to finish their drinks before one of the organizers tapped his mic and cleared his throat loudly.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ll now be moving onto our afternoon activities.” Mulder looked at Scully and pulled a face. “If you could please find your name on the board and sit at your assigned table. The teams have been switched up from the ice-breakers this morning so please do double check.”

They shuffled back into the hall with the rest of the crowd and approached the board, inching closer as other people found their names and dispersed.

“What table are you on?” Mulder asked, scanning the sheets of paper with a frown. He tapped his finger against one of them. “Ah. There I am. Team 5.”

“I’m on Team 1.” Scully responded as she caught sight of her name.

“I’d expect nothing less.” He smirked. “See you later, partner.”

“Enjoy.”

“I won’t.”

The next hour and a half consisted of a whole host of team-building activities. Whilst organized fun wasn’t Scully’s favorite thing in the world, her competitive streak was a mile long and she couldn’t help but take each challenge seriously.

After the typical introductions and ‘interesting fact about yourself’, where to even begin with that, they started with a game called Human Knot, with the fastest team to untangle themselves winning the point. There were a few other physical activities, then some that involved drawing or matching up bits of paper, and lastly a quiz. Scully, fired-up and ready to kick some ass, naturally assigned herself as scribe for that last one.

When Team 3 were announced as the winners, Scully whipped her head round and glared. There were a couple of assholes from Washington on that team who she’d overheard say some unpleasant things about Mulder on a number of occasions. Whatever. Have fun at your stupid, free dinner, Scully thought to herself. Hope you choke.

“Now for this last activity, we’d like you to get into pairs with your work partner.” The same organizer as earlier announced. “Buddy up and spread out and we’ll explain the rules in a moment.”

Mulder and Scully found a spot near the back of the room, used to working in their own space. Mulder draped his jacket over the back of a nearby chair and rolled up his sleeves. It was getting pretty warm in there despite the AC. Scully dropped her gaze to his forearms but quickly looked away, swallowing thickly.

Another organizer appeared and handed them some tape and a stack of old newspapers. Then the main organizer spoke again.

“For your final task, you’ll need to build a table using only the tape and paper you’ve been provided with. You will be given 20 minutes and the pair whose table holds the most weight at the end of that time will win. You may begin.”

Mulder sat down on the ground cross-legged and began rolling up bits of paper and wrapping them haphazardly with tape. For someone who claimed not to care about this stuff a few hours ago, he appeared to be approaching this task with remarkable enthusiasm.

“Wait, Mulder. Hold on.” Scully knelt down on the carpet beside him. “We need to think about the structure and plan it.”

“I’ve got this, Scully, don’t worry.”

“Mulder, I’ve done these things before.”

He wasn’t paying any attention, instead plowing on with his chaotic approach that made Scully’s inner physics major cringe. She glanced around at the other teams, all of whom seemed to be making a fair bit of progress already. Meanwhile, Mulder had merely created some random wads of paper and tape. Scully really didn’t understand what his plan was here.

They continued to bicker back and forth, their frustration at one another mounting. Maybe they really did need to work on their communication.

“Mulder, hand me the tape.”

“I’m getting there, Scully. Just let me do this.”

That pissed her off. Why was he completely taking over and doing it all himself? Why didn’t he trust her enough to help? Did he think she’d mess it up?

“Mulder, will you just listen to me?”

“Just trust me on this Scully, OK?”

“No. You need to trust me .”

“It goes both ways, Scully.”

God, this man was infuriating sometimes. Scully couldn’t believe they were arguing over a paper fucking table. Deep down, of course, she knew this wasn’t about the table. This whole exercise was merely a physical reflection of their relationship, a vessel for all the anger that had been simmering under the surface since she had shown up.

Before Scully could process the words, they were out of her mouth.

“I suppose you’d rather be doing this with Diana.” She muttered.

“What?”

Mulder looked up. It was clear in his expression that he hadn’t heard her. Thank God.

“Nothing.”

She knew that had been a petty thing to say, that she sounded like a scorned wife, but she couldn’t help wondering if it were true. When Diana walked into their lives, or rather back into Mulder’s, it was clear that there was a connection. A history. A shared belief. Was that connection deeper than the one Scully had with him?

Scully had always thought that she and Mulder complemented each other, that they balanced each other out. Not long ago, he had implied something similar and told her that her science kept him honest. But maybe what he really wanted, what he really needed, was somebody on the same wavelength. Somebody like Diana.

He was so defensive of Diana, wouldn’t abandon his faith in her even when Scully tried to make him see. At that point, Scully felt like she was asking him to choose: who did he trust more? It felt like he had chosen Diana.

Their conversation in his hallway haunted her. She really believed him at the time, his eyes so imploring, convincing her he couldn’t do this without her, begging her to stay. Maybe it was just the heat of the moment. After all, he’d also nearly kissed her so perhaps he wasn’t in his right mind. Scully though, she had never been able to see so clearly. She had wanted him more than anything, had leaned in with her heart pounding and tears in her eyes.

They hadn’t spoken about it since. Her mother had always said actions spoke louder than words anyway. His actions led her to believe it had been a mistake.

“Look, Scully, here.” Mulder interrupted her thoughts and held out a roll of tape. A peace offering. “You take the top section and I’ll carry on with these legs.”

Those were supposed to be legs?

She sighed in resignation.

“OK, fine. Hand me some paper.”

They quietly worked on their respective sections, occasionally motioning for the other to pass them something. When the final five minutes were announced, Scully took the ‘legs’ from Mulder and started piecing everything together. She tore off some more tape with her teeth to make the final adjustments.

“OK, everyone. Time’s up!”

Scully eyed their joint effort wearily. At least it was standing.

Everyone watched as the organizers made their way round the pairs, stacking weights on the tables until they collapsed. Some fell apart before their turn even came about but others only broke under the weight of a fair few pounds.

As Mulder and Scully had tucked themselves away in the corner, it was no surprise that they were left until last.

“OK guys, you’ve got a whopping 5 pounds to beat.” One of the organizers said. He was close enough that Scully could read his badge. George.

George placed the first weight on and to Scully’s surprise it held.

“So far so good.” He said and then placed another. And another. Until there were exactly 5 pounds on the table.

“This is the deciding weight, everybody.” George said to the room. “If they get this, they win.”

“It won’t hold.” Scully murmured, more to herself than anyone else.

“Such a skeptic.”

She glanced at Mulder. The corners of his lips quirked, his comment clearly meant to be light-hearted.

They both held their breaths as George placed the final weight. A beat passed and then he beamed at the pair of them.

“We have our winners!”

The other agents applauded politely as Mulder and Scully simply stared at their table in shock. George handed them some stationary, their prize.

“Congratulations, guys. That’s some pretty impressive teamwork, you must make a great pair out in the field.”

We used to, Scully thought.

The main organizer clapped his hands.

“OK! Thank you everybody for taking part today. We’ll now be moving to the bar for some drinks.” He pointed to the double doors behind Mulder and Scully. “If you could all head on through that way, please.”

Mulder gave Scully a small smile.

“Come on, Scully. I’ll buy you a drink.”

True to his word, Mulder bought her a glass of wine and they managed to find an empty booth to sit in. He cracked a few of his usual jokes here and there and she smiled in response each time but it never met her eyes. There was still a lingering tension and something inside her felt heavy.

As he sipped at his drink, Mulder glanced around at their fellow agents, people watching. Ever the profiler. She couldn’t help but notice how beautiful he looked at that moment. As he looked away, the dim lighting accentuated his profile, the strong line of his jaw. She wondered, not for the first time, what it would feel like to cradle his face in her hands as she kissed him.

A part of her wished he would try and kiss her again. That desire had never fully disappeared, no matter how hard she’d tried to put some distance between them. Maybe she should threaten to leave the FBI again, she thought wryly. Maybe that would prompt him to attempt another kiss. Or maybe he would just let her leave. Now that he had gotten his original partner back. His real partner.

The thought made her stomach plummet and she excused herself from the booth, realizing she had made herself feel quite nauseous.

“You OK, Scully?” Mulder frowned.

“I’m fine, I just have a headache.”

His expression turned from confusion to concern and it was heart-wrenching. Ever since her cancer, every headache, every illness or exhaustion caused a worried look to cross his features and made her wonder just how bad things must have been for him when she was sick.

“I think I’m just gonna head up.”

“Sure, OK.” He nodded. “You take the bed and I’ll ask at reception for a rollaway or something.”

Shit. She had totally forgotten about their shared room situation.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” He insisted.

She felt awful that he was being so sympathetic towards her. Here he was, anxious that she was unwell, when really she was just an expert at breaking her own heart.

“OK.” She said quietly. “Thank you.”

He reached out and squeezed her hand.

“Go get some rest.”

She nodded and squeezed his hand in return before letting it drop.

“Goodnight, Mulder.”

“Night, Scully.”

Scully completed her nightly routine in a trance. It took every ounce of strength she had not to burst into tears. She was so exhausted when she finally crawled into bed that sleep came easier than she’d expected, one minute her head was hitting the pillow and the next she was blinking awake again. Except it wasn’t the next morning when she woke, no it was still dark outside.

The clock beside the bed told her it had been less than an hour since she’d lay down. Confused, she pushed herself up and switched on the lamp.

Across the room, she saw what had woken her. Mulder was climbing into the armchair in the corner, dressed only in a pair of pajama pants and a loose t-shirt.

“Mulder?” She murmured sleepily.

His head whipped round.

“Shit. Sorry, Scully, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Where’s your bed?”

“They didn’t have any rollaways but it’s OK, go back to sleep.”

She sat up a little further, the sheet slipping down to her waist and exposing her camisole.

“Mulder, you can’t sleep over there, don’t be ridiculous. You’ll get a crick in your neck.”

He looked at her blankly, he obviously didn’t want to assume anything. Scully sighed and pulled back the covers in invitation.

“I don’t want to deal with your whining in the morning.” She said by way of explanation.

Apparently too tired to argue, he slipped in beside her.

“Thanks.”

Scully rolled onto her side, turning her back to him. Despite not facing him, she could still feel him watching her. Her heart rate steadily started to pick up. She no longer felt tired. She felt nervous being this close to him. There was something dangerous about it. She sighed and her breath came out shaky.

“Scully.” Mulder said, his voice low and dark. “Are you OK?”

“I’m fine, Mulder.” She replied quickly.

There was a pause. She could hear him thinking.

“Are we OK?” His voice had dropped even lower.

Scully’s responding silence was deafening. Mulder reached out and cautiously touched her arm, prompting her to roll over and face him. She swallowed. It was now or never.

“Why won’t you trust me?” She asked quietly.

“I do trust you, Scully.” He said, soft but insistent. “With my life.”

That didn’t answer her question. Either she wasn’t doing a very good job of this or he was totally oblivious. She decided to try a different approach.

“Why did you never tell me about Diana?”

“Diana?” Mulder frowned. “Scully, my history with her is just that. History. It never felt relevant.”

“You’re not getting it, Mulder.” Scully sighed, frustrated. “I always thought that we had something special, that the X-Files were ours, that we were in this together, me and you. But now… now I can’t help but wonder if I was just a placeholder, a stop along the way in your real journey. With her.”

“Scully.” Mulder whispered, his face falling.

“I know you said my science saved you, that it made you a whole person, but I feel like you only tell me what you think I want to hear when you’re scared you might lose me.” She bit her lip, shrugged. “I don’t know. It would certainly be easier to have a partner who isn’t constantly challenging you.”

Mulder stared at her and then swallowed. Some kind of internal processing complete, a decision made.

“Scully.” He said. “It isn’t just your science, it’s you. You make me a whole person.”

“Mulder, that’s the same thing.”

“No, it’s not.” He touched her arm again, his hand warm and firm against her skin. “This isn’t about the X-Files, this is personal. Me and you.”

“What do you mean?”

She could feel a nervousness forming in her stomach, unsure where this was going.

“Do you remember the other day?” He asked. “In the hospital. I told you that I love you.”

Scully rolled her eyes.

“Sure, Mulder. When you were high as a kite talking about me saving the world from Nazis.”

“I meant it, Scully. It wasn’t the drugs.” He insisted. “I love you. I’m in love with you.”

Oh.

“I am so so sorry that you’ve ever had to question my faith in you, Scully. You are everything to me, professionally, personally. Everything.”

Scully exhaled shakily. She had not expected this today.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Mulder pressed on, starting to ramble now. “If you don’t feel the same way, I can live with that, but you’re it for me, Scully. I’ve known that for quite some time.”

“Mulder.” Scully breathed.

He began to move away and she instantly missed his warmth, his touch.

“If you need some space, I understand-”

Scully reached out and cupped his face.

“Shut up, Mulder.” She murmured. And then she was kissing him, gently pressing her lips against his. They were even softer than she’d imagined.

She could feel his shock, his body unmoving, lips frozen beneath hers. He pulled away after a moment, gaze searching her face. Their eyes met and her heart thrummed in her chest. He must have found the confirmation he needed. His lips crashed against hers. Passion and desperation and devotion, the yearning finally giving way to desire now that they had been given permission to feel it.

He coaxed her lips open and then their tongues were meeting, his hands sliding into her hair. She surrendered to his touch, letting him lead. At last, she was getting what she wanted but never believed she could have. He wasn’t just choosing her, he was claiming her. She was his.

She rubbed her thumbs against his cheeks, loving the feeling of his stubble scratching against her skin. She wanted to feel it everywhere. Her neck, her chest, her stomach, her thighs.

He rolled on top of her and she felt arousal swoop low in her stomach. He squeezed her hips over her shorts then slid his hands higher, under her top, to her waist. His palms practically spanned her body. She felt dizzy.

Scully sucked at his bottom lip and then took it between her teeth, nipping at it lightly. She had dreamed of this. The noises he made in the back of his throat made her giddy and increased her hunger for him tenfold. She rocked up into him, needing to be closer, and his thigh met her center unexpectedly. She broke away with a gasp.

“Fuck, Scully.” Mulder groaned. “I want you so much.”

Scully whimpered in response, her hips twitching unconsciously.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked.

Instead of answering him with words, she held his gaze and wrapped her fingers around his wrist, dragging it down, down, until she was sliding his hand into her pajama shorts and under her panties.

“Jesus Christ.”

He kissed her again and they both moaned as he pressed his fingers against her. He moved them lower, dipping them inside and then dragging them back up, spreading her wetness over her clit. She could feel the ease with which his fingertips were gliding over her and she knew she must be soaked.

He set a steady pace, circling her clit with the perfect amount of pressure as if they’d been doing this forever. She wrapped an arm around his neck, holding him to her as her hips began to rock into his hand. Her breaths were becoming pants, little hitched moans right in his ear that had him groaning into her skin.

He slipped inside once again and then pulled back and she whined at the loss.

“I need to taste you.” He said, his voice thick with lust.

She stared up at him, temporarily rendered speechless by the wave of arousal that coursed through her at his words. She shook herself.

“Yeah. Yeah, OK.”

She sprang into action, scrambling to get her bottoms off and removing her top while she was at it. He followed suit and quickly stripped down to his boxers.

Draping himself back on top of her, he began trailing kisses down her neck and across her collarbones, nipping at the base of her throat. She had no idea she was so sensitive there. She didn’t even recognise the needy whimpers escaping her. Maybe it was him. Or years of sexual frustration. Or both.

When his lips reached her breasts and a tongue flicked against a nipple, she gasped. Now this sensitivity she was aware of. He must have realized because he spent a while there, licking and sucking, alternating between breasts while his fingers tweaked at the nipple not currently occupied by his mouth. It felt fucking incredible.

She should have known he’d be good at this, that he’d get off on it just as much as her. She’d never met a man so orally fixated. All that practise with sunflower seeds, straws, the erasers on the ends of pencils, even forensic evidence. And now, at last, she was reaping the rewards of his obsession.

“More. Please, Mulder.”

He reluctantly pulled away from her breasts and made his way down her stomach, mouthing at her skin and making her twitch beneath him. She threaded her fingers through his hair.

“Mulder.” She urged. If he didn’t hurry the fuck up, she felt like she might die.

He grinned up at her, clearly pleased with the needy mess he had made out of her and she had half a mind to smack him. But then his lips were pressed against her clit and the thought was gone. If she did die right now, she’d die the happiest woman alive.

He gently traced his tongue over her and she sighed contently, tugging him closer. Just when the teasing was starting to get too much again, he pressed his tongue inside her and she moaned loudly, bucking her hips into his face. His responding groan was muffled against her and only heightened the sensation. Taking the hint, he slid one then two fingers inside her and curled them just right.

“Oh fuck, right there.” She gasped.

Encouraged, he doubled down on his efforts. He thrust inside her and his tongue returned to her clit with equal enthusiasm. It wasn’t long before her thighs started to quake around his head.

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

He didn’t let up and soon she was coming, her spine arching off the bed as if pulled by some invisible force. Despite his lack of oxygen and Scully’s fists tightening in his hair, Mulder continued until she was pushing him away.

He reappeared above her with the biggest smile on his face. Scully, blissed out and reclined against the bed, couldn’t even bring herself to take him down a peg. He more than deserved the bragging rights.

“You’re incredible.” He said, leaning down to kiss her. She could taste herself on his lips but she didn’t mind. In fact, as she ground her hips against him, she realized she was still insanely aroused. So was he.

His erection bumped against her, the first time she’d properly felt it, and they both moaned. Enough messing about. Impatient to feel him properly, she tugged at his boxers. He got the idea and slid off the bed to remove them.

Scully sat up on her elbows and drank in the sight of him. Jesus. She had seen hints of his cock over the years, a glimpse of a stray bulge in his slacks late at night, a distinct outline against a jean-clad thigh, and of course, though she’d tried not not to look, she’d seen him in his boxers when stripping him down due to sickness or injury. All enough to assume he’d be impressive but Christ .

“All look OK to you, doc?” Mulder joked, looking slightly nervous beneath her gaze.

She blushed, embarrassed to be caught staring. She was quick to reassure him.

“You have a gorgeous body, Mulder.”

He smiled.

“Likewise.”

He kissed her again, slower than before, more gentle, and she felt a little shy all of a sudden. They were really doing this. She was having sex with Mulder. Mulder . It simultaneously thrilled and terrified her. It felt so sudden and yet not at all. He was her partner, her best friend, and she could not afford to fuck this up. If he had been pining for her for as long as she had been for him then this had been a very long time coming. She hoped he was as rusty at this as she was.  

He cupped her face and stroked his thumbs over her cheekbones, clearly sensing her hesitation.

“You OK?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, smiling at his concern. “It’s just been a while for me.”

“Me too.” He replied. “We’ll take it slow, OK?”

Relieved at his understanding, she tilted her chin up so he could kiss her again. He met her lips gently, true to his word, and she was touched by his tenderness. He loves you, a little voice in her head reminded her and she smiled into the kiss, feeling his own lips twitch against hers in response.

“Ready?” He asked.

His hands were on her thighs, fingertips stroking the delicate skin there.

“Yeah.” She breathed, shifting her legs further apart beneath him.

He wrapped a hand around himself and stroked a few times before lining himself up. Scully stared, the fantasies she’d had about watching him touch himself suddenly flashing at the forefront of her mind. She filed them away again, vowing to fulfill them another day.

Mulder pressed his forehead against hers, their lips brushing, one of her hands clutching at the back of his neck and the other at his shoulder, and then he was pushing slowly inside her.

“Oh, fuck.” Scully groaned, her eyes rolling back in her head. The sensation of being stretched was just the right balance of pleasure and pain.

He paused, giving her a moment to adjust, and then she was nodding, mumbling against his lips and asking for ‘more’ and ‘please’.

With her consent, he slipped in further, deeper. She gasped and clenched around him.

“Fuck, Scully.” He groaned. “You feel so good.”

She nodded, biting her lip to hold back another fierce moan.

He kept going, inch by inch, until his pelvis was flush against her. Mulder was watching her face, an expression of awe written across his own. She knew the feeling. The sensation of him inside her, filling her so perfectly. Nothing had ever felt so right.

“Move, Mulder. Please. Fuck me.”

With one hand beside her head on the pillow and the other resting on her hip, he began to draw back and then push inside her again, slowly at first, then gradually a little faster with each thrust. As his speed increased, he brought his other arm up, now using both limbs for leverage.

She was starting to get lost in the slick sound of her around him, the rhythmic meeting of their hips over and over again.

“Right there, yes, yes.” She chanted in time with his continued pounding.

“What do you need, Scully?” He asked, his voice had taken on a quality that she’d never heard from him. “Tell me.”

“Harder.” She managed to gasp out.

He sat back, sliding his hands over her hips and squeezing before moving them round further, lifting her ass slightly and pulling her harder onto his cock. This was exactly what she needed. The way he grabbed at her flesh was almost possessive and she fucking loved it. On a particularly deep thrust, he hit a spot that had her crying out and clutching his arms.

Her clit throbbed and she dropped a hand between her legs. The other went to her breast, grasping it hard and rubbing her thumb over her nipple.

“Oh, fuck yes.” Mulder groaned, hands squeezing her ass tighter. “Touch yourself for me.”

Scully moaned loudly.

“Tell me how it feels.”

Jesus. She shouldn’t have been surprised at his proclivity for dirty talk, both the doing of it and the encouragement for her to do the same. He could never shut up outside the bedroom, of course that wouldn’t change just because they were fucking. She couldn’t deny how much it turned her on though. Hearing him make demands of her in that voice was outdoing anything she’d ever imagined. All those lonely nights spent thinking about him with her hand down her pants. If only she’d known how much better reality would be.

“So good, Mulder.” She moaned. “So fucking good.”

Her fingers moved faster and harder against her clit as Mulder continued his relentless thrusting. He fell forward slightly, bracing one of his hands against the headboard. It was slamming against the wall in loud, repetitive bangs. Scully couldn’t even bring herself to care. She glanced down her body, hypnotized by the sight of him pounding into her. She knew she couldn’t hold out much longer. Her eyes fluttered shut.

“I’m close.” She whispered.

“Look at me.”

She forced her eyes back open, meeting his. It felt like he was staring right into her soul and it was the final push she needed. Her body began to shake. Her breath escaped in continuous moans and gasps that she couldn’t control.

“Come for me, Scully.”  He said. “I wanna see you come again.”

“Want you to come with me.”  

“I will.”

With that she let go. Her mouth dropped open in a silent scream and her head tipped back as she came with an intensity she had never experienced. She could feel her walls pulsing around Mulder’s cock, his rhythm never ceasing, and then he was coming too. Through the ringing in her ears, she could hear him swearing as he spilled inside her and it only prolonged the sensations coursing through her.

They were both panting, covered in a sheen of sweat, but Scully had never felt more at peace.

“Come here.” She mumbled, tugging at Mulder’s arm.

He slowly lowered himself, careful not to crush her, and wrapped her up in his arms, pressing a tender kiss to her temple. They stayed like that for a moment, just breathing each other in, before Mulder shifted his hips and slid out of her. Scully whined softly in protest and he quietened her with another kiss.

“I’ll be right back.”

He disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a washcloth, gently cleaning them both off. When he was done, he crawled back into bed beside her and she curled up into his side. He tucked her hair behind her ear, cradling her head with his palm as he pressed his lips to her forehead, her cheek and finally her lips. She lifted her chin to meet him, her eyes drifting closed.

When they parted, he was smiling at her. He slid his hand down her face and pressed the tip of his thumb to her lips. She kissed it and smiled softly back at him.

“I’m so in love with you.” He whispered. “You’re all I want.”

“I’m all yours.” Scully whispered back, voicing her thought from earlier. “I always have been.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhm.” She nodded.

His smile widened.

“Kinda crazy, huh?” He wondered aloud. “That we finally got here.”

“Must be an X-File.”

“Remind me to get Kersh a card.”

Scully huffed out a laugh. She turned in his arms so that he was spooning her. He kissed the top of her head and pulled her closer by her waist.

“Love you.” She whispered, twisting to give him one last kiss.

Feeling lighter than she had in a very long time, she closed her eyes and let sleep take her.

[summerwritesfics]

⛓️One, Two, Three, Not Only You And Me

Pairing: Hanzo Hasashi/Kuai Liang/Tomas Vrbada Length: 2258 Words Rating: Explicit 🔞 Warnings: Polyamory, Cock Rings, Creampie, Threesome (M/M/M), Light Bondage, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Spanking, Hair-Pulling, Oral Sex, Blow Jobs, Relationship Issues (Kinda minor and communication saves the day), Is there a term for someone topping and bottoming at the same time?, Smoke is sandwiched between Kuai and Hanzo, Smoke @ Hanzo: It’s not like I like you or anything baka. Kinktober Day 2: Poly Dynamics + Cock Rings + Creampie

Kinktober Masterlist

Notes: Alrighty, time for day 2, and this happens sometime after all my Hanzo/Kuai/Tomas love triangle fics, where Hanzo and Tomas have managed to come to some sort of understanding, and Tomas has also fallen in love with Hanzo, much to his horror. While I was reading this back for editing, I realised how tsundere I made Tomas XD I’m amazed I didn’t have him call Hanzo a baka at any point lol. Title is from “3” by Britney Spears.

The door to Kuai Liang’s quarters were locked.

Tomas knew that meant either one of two things. Kuai was upset and hiding away or Hanzo Hasashi was fucking his brains out. Given Hanzo was currently visiting, Tomas made the educated guess it was the latter. It was a little rude for Hanzo to come and fuck their boyfriend without him, but Tomas didn’t feel particularly surprised by it.

Still, he wouldn’t know for sure until he took a look inside. Placing his hands together, he let his psychical form melt into smoke, navigating through the gaps between the wooden door so he could reform on the other side.

And as he suspected, there Kuai and Hanzo were, buck naked on the bed.

It didn’t seem like they’d gotten far in their copulation. Kuai was on his back, hands bound in his own headband, a silver ring on his cock, and Hanzo’s fingers lazily sliding in and out of him.

“About time you showed up,” Hanzo commented, sounding bored. He did not bother to look up and across at Tomas, keeping his eyes on his fingers.

“Astonishingly, I don’t have a my boyfriends are going to fuck sixth sense.” Tomas crossed his arms and pouted.

“I’d have thought by now you would,” Hanzo teased, a smirk on his face that made him look so handsome that it made Tomas so mad, because how dare he look that good when Tomas was angry with him. “Or at least you’d notice when we’ve disappeared.”

“Maybe if you told me what you were planning I could join you sooner,” Tomas complained, not really sure what the point of this argument actually was at this point. He’d never been particularly bothered by this before, he felt like he was just causing a fight for the sake of it.

“Not to interrupt this serious discussion on the dynamics of our relationship,” Kuai quietly interrupted, his brows drawn in frustration, “But can it wait until I don’t have fingers in my ass?”

Tomas silently agreed with the request. He was here now, that was what mattered. Well that and Kuai Liang lightly tied up and looking so vulnerable. Fucking him stupid was clearly the more pressing issue here.

He walked up to the bed, crawling up next to Hanzo to look how far along he was. Hanzo had four fingers inserted, still slowly pumping them, Kuai stretched to fit them. Kuai’s cock was hard, the silver cock ring making it look so achingly pretty.

“He’s ready, if you want to take him,” Hanzo offered, finally pulling his fingers free and patting Kuai’s thigh as he did. Tomas looked at him questioningly. “Peace offering.” Hanzo shrugged, “You fuck him, while I fuck you.”

That was extremely tempting. As Hanzo moved aside to make room for Tomas he found himself instinctively moving in between Kuai’s legs. Kuai gave him a pleading look, and it went straight to his cock. He made short work stripping off his clothes, throwing them to the floor with little care.

He ran his hand along the inside of Kuai’s thigh, causing Kuai to bite his lip. Tomas had spent so many cold and lonely nights in the Lin Kuei fantasising about having Kuai like this. Sometimes he couldn’t believe after all those years he finally got what he wanted. Granted, Hanzo was part of the equation he couldn’t have foreseen, and it took a while to see him as a partner rather than a rival for Kuai’s affections. It was Kuai’s love for both of them that finally allowed the two of them to bond.

The fact he’d come to love Hanzo too was extremely annoying.

“What do you say, Snowflake?” Tomas asked, reaching for Kuai’s cock and gently stroking it and causing him to writhe. “Want me inside you?”

“Please,” Kuai whimpered, and Tomas laughed at just how needy he sounded. He took hold of Kuai’s torso, before flipping him over onto his front. Tomas straddled his thighs, leaning forward to push down on his shoulder blades with one hand and using the other to pin Kuai’s wrists above his head.

“Hm, you really don’t care which one of us fucks you, do you?” Tomas teased, letting his hand trail along Kuai’s spine. “As long as you have a cock inside you, you’re happy.”

“Tomas,” Kuai whispered, as Tomas’ hand went low enough to be able to grope Kuai’s ass. He’d thought about this for so many years, being able to pin Kuai down and hear him moan his name. Who would have known how sweet the real thing would be?

“I won’t keep you waiting.” He reached for his own cock, keeping it steady as he searched for Kuai’s entrance. He found his mark quickly, and slowly began to guide himself inside. Kuai groaned and arched his back slightly. When he was halfway in, Tomas removed his hand from his cock, instead resting it on Kuai’s hip.

He pulled back slightly, before driving back in. He used his weight to keep Kuai pressed down against the mattress. With every thrust, a little more of his cock was able to slip inside, going deeper and deeper. Kuai’s insides clung to him, the slick lube easing the way.

“Tomas,” Kuai muttered, trying to roll his hips. Tomas didn’t let him, thrusting a little harder to drive the point. “Ah, fuck, I love you.”

Tomas lent forward, kissing the back of Kuai’s neck and muttering, “I love you too.”

He felt a hand on his ass, squeezing slightly. He looked over his shoulder, seeing Hanzo looking at his ass with an appreciative smile on his face. Good. Kuai’s ass might have been the favourite, but Tomas’ was pretty great too, thank you very much.

Tomas continued to shallowly thrust into Kuai, especially when he felt a wet digit circling his own entrance.

“I swear to god Hasashi, if you even think about teasing me I will-“

Tomas’ rant was cut off by a yelp as Hanzo pushed his finger inside. Kuai giggled underneath him.

“You will what, Vrbada?” Hanzo smugly questioned, twisting his finger and beginning to move it in and out. Tomas grumbled into Kuai’s neck. “What was that? I can’t hear you if you mumble.” To make a point, Hanzo used his other hand to lightly slap Tomas ass.

“Ugh, god I hate you so much,” Tomas growled, as he gave another harsh roll of his hips. In doing so he managed to meet the movement of Hanzo’s finger before he returned to the depths of Kuai’s ass. He moaned at the sensation.

Kuai was giggling despite his current position, and in the vauge direction of Hanzo sung, “I think he likes being a bottom as much as he likes being top~”

“Says the bottom bitch,” Tomas grunted before lightly bit the back of Kuai’s neck. He let go when Hanzo slapped his ass again.

“Behave,” he warned lowly as he finally inserted another finger inside him. “I already have one brat to deal with, but I won’t hesitate to put another in his place.”

Tomas almost wanted to call Hanzo’s bluff on that one, but decided against it. He could always test that another day. Instead he returned his efforts to fucking Kuai Liang, while also fucking himself on Hanzo’s fingers. He moved one of his hands to clamp around Kuai’s neck, while he pushed his other’s into Kuai’s mouth. Without prompting Kuai began to suck on them.

This continued for a while, Tomas groaning at the tightness Kuai offered while trying his best to force Hanzo’s fingers deeper inside him. Soon another finger was added, stretching Tomas just a little more, and making him long for Hanzo’s cock inside him. A forth finger joined a short time later, and Tomas was getting impatient.

“I’m ready,” he snarled, stilling inside Kuai and forcing his fingers deeper inside Kuai’s mouth to mute him from making any more snarky remarks. “Fuck me already, Hasashi.”

“And you both tell me I’m impatient,” Hanzo dramatically sighed as he pulled his fingers free. His hands soon were firmly placed on Tomas hips, keeping him still as he felt a pressure against his hole. He groaned as Hanzo pushed inside him, in turn making Tomas drive into Kuai.

As Hanzo pulled back, Tomas drew back as well, and then the force of Hanzo thrusting back into him caused his hips to jerk forward too. Kuai’s moan was muffled by Tomas fingers. Like always Hanzo rocked into a fast pace, and Tomas found he couldn’t escape the sounds coming from his mouth. He rolled his hips, allowing the force of Hanzo to slam into Kuai Liang.

“Kuai was right, you are enjoying this, aren’t you?” Hanzo questioned, slapping Tomas ass with his hand. Tomas growled, causing Hanzo to grab his hair and harshly yank. “I asked you a question.”

“Fuck, god, yes,” Tomas got out between his breath. His pelvis slammed against Kuai’s ass causing an audible slap. Kuai shuddered, still trying desperately to suck on Tomas fingers.

Shit he wasn’t going to last long like this, not surround by Kuai and having his prostate railed by Hanzo.

Hanzo finally let go of his hair, allowing Tomas to bury his face into Kuai’s back as Hanzo slapped his ass a few more times. He decided to try and shut everything else out, focusing on his own pleasure. He finally let his fingers free of Kuai’s mouth and covered it with his hand instead. Even without seeing Kuai’s face, he could imagine that his eyes were rolling up to the back of his head.

It was one slam into his body that had Tomas cumming. His grip on Kuai tightened as he began to fill Kuai to the brim. Behind him Hanzo didn’t stop, even as Tomas clenched around him. That was until he felt Hanzo still inside him, and the sensation of being filled with a pleasant warmth.

The three of them stilled, panting for a few seconds, before he felt Hanzo begin to pull out of him. Once Hanzo was free and falling back on the bed, Tomas made his exit from Kuai. As he pulled his cock out, some of his cum dripped out of Kuai’s hole. It was always a beautiful sight, and given Tomas felt wetness drip down his thigh, he knew he was in a simular state.

As Tomas sat back, he felt arms wrap around his shoulders, before he was pulled to rest on Hanzo’s chest.

“I’m sorry we did not wait for you,” Hanzo said, kissing Tomas on the cheek. Gross. He would never admit that he enjoyed these small acts of affection.

“I don’t know why it bothered me, it doesn’t usually,” Tomas replied with a shrug. “Besides, I get Kuai to myself more often that you do anyway.”

“True, but still.” Hanzo patted Tomas chest. “I’ll put more effort into finding you in the future.”

Tomas smiled that that. For as rocky as their relationship had begun, he had to admit Hanzo was at least a considerate lover.

Kuai Liang groaned, and he carefully flipped himself over. Tomas expected a happy expression to be on his face, but instead there was nothing but frustration. Tomas wondered what he was so angry about, until his eyes wandered down. There was Kuai’s cock, still hard and red, that silver ring still at the base. Whoops, that had completely slipped his mind.

“You both suck,” Kuai stated, his lips pursed and brows drawn.

Tomas turned to share a look with Hanzo, before they both silently nodded in agreement about that being a demand rather than a statement.

They both crawled to where Kuai was still sprawled out on the bed. Tomas pushed down on his chest, keeping him down and still as Hanzo removed the cock ring. Soon as it was free, Hanzo was taking Kuai into his mouth. Kuai whimpered, lifting his hips slightly, his face red and eyes wide and sweet.

Hanzo bobbed his head up and down a couple of times, before pulling back and allowing Tomas a turn. As Tomas pushed himself down to the hilt, swallowing around Kuai’s cock and feeling him twist. He could see Hanzo reach up to Kuai’s nipples, pinching and pulling on them.

“He makes the cutest faces when someone’s sucking his cock, doesn’t he?” Hanzo said just as Tomas pulled off again.

“He certainly does,” Tomas agreed, before going a little lower to suck on Kuai’s balls. The squeal that escaped Kuai’s lips was beautiful. Hanzo was back at Kuai’s cock, as they double teamed Kuai. He could feel Kuai’s body tensing below them.

“T-Tomas! Hanzo!”

Both of them pulled away with the warning, just in time for cum to squirt from Kuai’s cock, landing on his own stomach. Hanzo wrapped his hand around, coaxing some more to pool with the rest. With Kuai’s legs spread, Tomas couldn’t help but admire how beautiful looked covered in his own cum while Tomas’ was still slowly leaking out of him.

Shit, Tomas was feeling himself growing hard again from the image in front of him. Thankfully, a quick glance at Hanzo revealed he too was being effected by the sight. Hanzo gave him a sly smile.

“Want to see how many times we can make him cum?”

Tomas reply came in the form of a smile, and a quick glance toward Kuai in time to see him nod in approval.

Well, it seemed the three of them were in for a long night.

[waterolivecoffiyeh]

Replying to Puppyluver256

Well, I see I finally have your attention. @puppyluver256

You'll have to excuse me if I couldn't reply sooner given the waterfall of word vomit I had to slog through for anything relevant. It was incredibly hard to pinpoint your actual response when you're simultaneously rambling about everything and nothing at all.

Additionally, it's hilarious that you think sprinkling random videos into your reply makes your points more valid. If anything, it just makes you look like you can't formulate a proper rebuttal without turning this into a dumb meme. Way to demonstrate how little you actually care about the topic.

But since you’ve decided to finally acknowledge what I’ve written, I will address everything you wrote, irrelevant as some topics may be and unlike you, I will not be lazy and ”skim through”. If I don’t cover a specific thing, it’s because I’ve either already stated my opinion elsewhere or I didn't care enough to discuss it.

And by the way? Confessing that you just skimmed through my blog shows me you still don’t understand a single word of what I’ve been saying as your response is so tactless, disorganized, and rife with paranoia.

Oh, and if you’re going to be "using my words" actually take time to read what I said vs "what you remember”. In fact, here's a link. Anyone who's reading this post can see exactly what I said. I'd have added a quote to this post but my response to you is already far too long and my old post is possibly even longer.

But I’ve stalled enough. Let’s comb through this mess together, shall we? Do try, and extend the same courtesy I’m giving you by actually reading my reply this time. Perhaps you will learn something.

Firstly, I’m going to get this out of the way since it really stuck in your craw: The misgendering.

1. You have not been going exclusively by they/them pronouns for years. I had been a follower for years prior to my departure and even when I returned when this whole debacle started, you still had she/they listed as your preferred pronouns on your blog and on other socials. You had she/they up for years. It was only within the past two weeks you made the switch (at the time of this post’s original upload). 2. I've paid enough attention to you to know this was a recent change, so if my older posts still say "she" that's because you still had female pronouns displayed on your blog at the time they were originally written. Trying to retroactively accuse me of transphobia is completely disingenuous. 3. Furthermore, if you wanted to be known exclusively by they/them you should have nixed the "she" stuff long ago. Additionally, my recent post doesn't even use "she" so stop trying to rage-bait anyone reading this with the narrative of me being transphobic. I'm LGBT+ too and frankly, I’m disappointed someone who’s in the same community would stoop to such a level.

Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, let's get right to the heart of things: Addressing the holes that make your argument about Israel VS Palestine null and void.

I’m going to straight out call you a liar about you having known about Palestine for 20+ years.

1. If that was truly the case it would infer you knew how sensitive this subject was the entire time and still choose to believe your own interpretations of events instead of the actual facts. 2. You wouldn't have worded your so-called "freeverse" poetry so vaguely at a time when news of the genocide was breaking. Yes, you could have still said you felt helpless, but you chose to spin the current news of Israel vs Palestinian as a consequence of religious dogma, which it is not (more on this point further down). 3. Your “freeverse" poetry is nothing more than a bunch of melancholy platitudes where you lament your ineffectiveness and wail "Oh, woe is me! Won’t someone please comfort poor little me?” Frankly, that's the majority of your posts. They have always been tiny soapboxes for you to stand on to whinge and whine about how a specific situation affects you selfishly, treating your personal discomfort as more important than any actual victims of said situation. 4. This claim you care too much? It's a load of BS. You’re insincere to others and lying to yourself. If you truly did care, you'd take a hot second to actually read my blog. Leaving the poem up is just you not wanting to admit it's tone-deaf and a poorly uneducated take. If you truly learned anything you would have either removed it or added an addendum about why it was harmful, but you don’t want to do either because then it would draw more attention to you and you might actually be held accountable for something for once. 5. All of the posts that I archived coincide with dates of big news coming out of Palestine and they are either passive-aggressive or purposefully vague. I told you before whatever you're complaining about you're not the least bit subtle. If you didn't want people to scrutinize what you wrote, you wouldn't post certain things online and quietly keep your certain thoughts to yourself. 6. Don't use the excuse of "Well it's my blog!" to dodge accountability. When you use social media like a personal journal, everyone can see your opinions and since this is SOCIAL MEDIA, emphasis on the word “social”, anyone can respond. It's like reading your diary out loud to strangers in a crowded room. Everyone can hear you and they may have an opinion about what you wrote and it may not be what you want to hear. People can and will call you out. You are not free from criticism or rebuttal just because it’s a personal opinion. Consequence free speech does not exist. The moment you open your mouth, you are opening yourself up to a response from someone else be it positive, negative, or neutral. Trying to hide behind a shield of “Don’t reply to me! This is my personal space!” makes you appear weak in conviction. 7. Touting your atheism and your “secular humanism” as if makes you intellectually superior or more empathetic is self-aggrandizing and frustrating to watch. Pretending to be more intelligent because you don’t believe in God does not make you better than those who hold faith in their hearts. Playing this role as the untouchable enlightened who has seen the truth unlike the “masses of ignorant sheep” who believe in a higher power is what egotistical jackasses do and it’s a bad look. You’re every bit the Strawman archetype for the “Insufferable Atheist”. You’re almost at parody levels of cliché.

Just look at this paragraph you wrote without a shred of irony:

“I may be an atheist, but more importantly I am a secular humanist, and before knowing the latter term and taking on that label I was still an atheist even at the time, so the religious argument of “god gave them that land, they own that land” would never have worked on me the way it seems to with so many people. And tbh I don’t even know if that’s an argument that the Israeli government themselves put forward (it’s a terrible argument no matter who put it forward), but I do know that Christian fundamentalist extremists say things like that in their push for “god’s people” to return to "their god-ordained homeland” so they (the Christian extremists, I mean, just so we don’t get confused here) can try to usher in the end of the world based on the drug trip of a final volume in their bizarre storybook and no I am not kidding that is literally what they believe.”

Way to give yourself a pat on the back for a way of thinking millions of other people also share. You’re not the only atheist living in the Bible Belt. You’re not that special or unique.

If you were knowledgeable about the conflict in the Middle East you would speak from the socio-political perspective and not reduce this tragedy to a simple religious war (as if those too aren’t also extremely nuanced and complicated). Do you want to know how I know this? You contradict yourself in the very next paragraph:

”You must inform anyone you come across of this travesty. You must not let them look away either. But the suffering will continue regardless. They are all convinced they are in the right, all fighting for the will of a god that they will never confirm to be real, in fact the same god in wildly different interpretations. All the while, the innocents caught in the crossfire will continue to die, glorified in the disgusting “honor” known as martyrdom."

…Do you not see the irony here?

Tell me you didn’t imply this is situation is a religious war right there. Your words alone are tell me you believe it's solely religiously motivated and nothing more.

Let me tell you something. It's not.

The genocide of Palestinians can be rooted in the fact that Israel is basically an illegal colonization and occupation of land. People were forced to leave their homes, losing them in the process and then having Israel settlers move in and take over. Anyone with half a brain and a lick of common sense knows for a fact that Israel is trying to kill off the natives to take this land. Don't you dare blame the Palestinians! Most of us do not blame the Jews or the Muslims for this conflict.

Also? "Crossfire?" Please enlighten me where the crossfire is because most of the time it's Israel causing the destruction and killing. There is no crossfire when the Palestinians are the intended targets. Or are you gonna bring out Hamas as another excuse for calling it a crossfire…if you even know who or what Hamas is.

And the most insulting thing of all is that you sit, comfy and safe thousands of miles away from the horror of this reality, blaming both sides simply because they have faith in the same kind of God. Their religious texts may not be the same as the Christian fundamentalist extremists but they have the same roots. Calling any religious text a “bizarre storybook” is a disgusting insult. For someone who claims to be a “secular humanist” you seem to lack a core component of humanity. Your inference that if only both sides dropped their beliefs and chose logic & reason over faith & God, the blinders would fall off and they would instantly come to their senses, stop fighting, and be at peace.

That is not how real life works.

Religion is not the end all be all seed of all evil that sows discord all over the globe and it’s repulsive you believe it could ever be that simple. Even if EVERYONE in the Middle East adopted your perspective, there would still be pain and suffering. It would still be a genocide in that region. You have a lot of audacity to reduce this down to such a trifling matter, much less say and believe it.

You think you’re the smartest person in the room because you can’t be “fooled” into believing in God? In reality, you’ve shown your ass to the world with how callous and apathetic you are. And I’m not interested in your grandstanding of how decent you are.

And if you want to continue to deny it? Look at your own damn tags:

Side note? You should take the advice listed and grab a snack and a drink because we’ve barely scratched the surface. We’re going to talk about your justifications and excuses for why you can’t handle this news (Spoiler: none of them are valid).

“This is something that is not going to surprise anyone who knows me to hear: I have the emotional constitution of an improperly set flan.”

Tell me something I don’t know. In fact, how about you tell me how you’ve made it to your age without learning how to strike the proper balance between staying informed and not being burnt out from information overload.

You claim you want to hide from “the horrors of the world while online for the sake of your own sanity”. I have some very bad news for you: that environment no longer exists. The internet is no longer a niche little ecosystem that only a few people have access too. Everyone and their mother has a Facebook, a Twitter, an Instagram, etc. and that includes news organizations and major corporations. These days information travels faster. We live in a world where we can get live updates happening in real time which is absolutely paramount when so much news is actually being censored. But I’ll go over that later. I want to focus on this part specifically:

“Every single post about it, tweet about it, insertion into a video I was watching that gave no prior indication it would even remotely talk about it, it kept breaking my heart little by little, especially as I could do nothing to help and the charged language of everything was written to basically shame anyone who didn’t do anything regardless of whether or not they were actually capable of doing so.”

Of course people are talking about this! Its major news that has a global impact on so many things especially your country! We are potentially about to get involved in another so-called “war” that will last 20+ years and cost trillions of dollars! There are people who still don’t know if their loved ones are alive or dead because they’re being held hostage by amoral monsters who will kill them without second thought. Everyone is afraid for the future. Try to step outside yourself for a few seconds and look at the big picture.

No one is asking you to donate everything you own, join all the boycotts, or get involved in every debate and discussion. You always had the ability to choose your level of engagement, even none at all. Yet what you fail to grasp time and time again is that if you want to have an opinion on Palestine, you have to stay informed. You can’t reject information because it upsets you and then turn around and state your opinions on said subject even vaguely. You can’t have it both ways.

And you can tell me till you’re blue in the face your “freeverse” poem and all those other posts were not about Palestine. I do not believe you. You are trying to sneakily weasel your way into the discussion in a way that prevents anyone from replying because the slightest pushback leaves you running scared, blocking to avoid any productive conversation.

Also? I just have to ask: Where are these pictures of dead bodies you’re talking about? I have been plugged into multiple news outlets and even some accounts right at the source and I have not seen even a fraction of this “gruesome injury and death” you speak of. You phrase it as if it’s just a 24/7 parade of gore to mentally scar you. You’re the one in control of what you see. No one is holding your eyes open as you oh so dramatically put it. The onus is on you to enforce your boundaries, which by the way, are for your protection not to correct or change everyone else’s behavior.

Don’t like what someone posts? Unfollow them.

Don’t like when a video starts talking about Israel vs Palestine? Skip ahead or close out.

Don’t want to read posts about it? Keep scrolling part.

Try to actually learn how to properly use the tools you have instead of complaining that total strangers who wouldn’t know you from Adam aren’t catering to your incredibly specific sensibilities. Maybe take a look at your block list and see if some of the things on there are really worth losing sleep over.

As for the rest of section 2?

“All of this on top of my more direct struggles–adjusting to a new house I never wanted to move to in a location I never wanted to even visit again.”

It’s been a year and half since you posted you were moving. You’re telling me you still haven’t adjusted to your new home?

“learning to care for a new dog and never getting enough time to get anything done as a result, constantly getting bitten by said dog”

You are seriously blaming your dog for contributing to your “heartache”? Really? That’s the level we’re at? Frankly? You don’t sound like a responsible pet owner either. You adopted that dog last September and you’re still struggling with training? In my opinion, you could benefit from spending even more time with him. Less opportunities to get mired in the news and decompress mentally.

“the brand new house constantly falling apart either due to shoddy workmanship or because of Dog”

Old houses need a lot more work but in general you need to follow basic upkeep so things continue to run smoothly. And if your dog is destroying things, he’s not getting the proper attention/training.

“never getting enough sleep anymore (admittedly through no one’s fault but my own)”

You are quite literally your own worst enemy.

“pulling my hair out over all this stress and then stressing out over that in a vicious cycle of bald”

If that is the case, you seriously need to seek help to figure out a proper way to manage your stress levels. It should never get this bad. However, everything else before it? The move? The house repairs? The dog? These are just the daily routines of everyday life. If this is the “worst” it gets then you’re already doing better than most. You should feel incredibly blessed you even have a home, a pet, and a living family. The Palestinians don’t even have the remains of their loved ones to properly bury. Try to keep things in perspective. It’ll keep you humble and grounded.

Now, shifting gears to things that are only tangentially related because you're incapable of staying focused on the main topic, your "Fandomazation of Tragedy" section is ridiculously over-bloated with random nonsense totally unrelated to my criticism but I will address it since you felt you had to include it. I’m only doing this because there is one specific paragraph that truly enrages me so I’ll cover that first.

1. I know and have seen people show support for Palestine via edits, gifs, cartoons, or game characters because that was what they felt they could do to show solidarity and support. And if not that, they are boosting other support posts.

You want to claim it's tasteless and wrong for people to make Fakémon for Palestine? I'll tell you what's truly tasteless. This right here:

“I’m sure you can gather what Fakemon is through context, fan-made Pokemon, something I’ve heavily gotten into myself via the Cantessy project and at least three planned future Fakemon projects, and have been following plenty of artists and collaborative creators in the field for years now.”

Using genocide as a springboard to plug your fanfics and art? This is NOT the time nor the place to promote your fan projects! There is ZERO reason this should have been included! How dare you try to siphon attention away from an actual genocide and turn it into an opportunity to get more attention, followers, and feedback. How dare you try to milk this for your gain. And finally, how dare you criticize people using art as a means to express viewpoints or work through the emotions associated because it intrudes on your precious little playground while you try to poach new followers. That's true hypocrisy right there.

2. Cartoons and game characters have been used to make political statements for years (WW2 shorts via Disney and Loony Toons anyone?) This is not a new trend. FREE HONG KONG was just a few years ago after the controversy with Blizzard siding with China. This sort of thing isn't new and it’s not going away.

Side note? I've seen you complain about seeing Palestinian stuff in Splatoon 3 plazas, yet at the very bottom of your response to me is a manta ray character with a watermelon design. You wouldn't be using that to support Palestine if you honestly believed using fandom in political talking points was so "wrong".

And since Pokémon is your favorite fandom judging by your recent fanart series, need I remind you that when PETA tried to take potshots at this franchise for promoting animal abuse, there was a slew of pushback from its fandom in the form of fanart? They openly mocked PETA for trying to push their agenda on a fantasy game and claimed Nintendo and Game Freak supported animal abuse. Does that count as “unsettling” to you because it brings in real-world issues to light-hearted media…or does this one get a pass because it aligns with your personal system of ideals?

3. People do this sort of fanart to come to terms with stressful situations or to show solidarity with others because if there is anything we all have in common it’s the cartoons we watch, the comics we read, and the video games we play. Fandoms cross international borders. Those artists who make pro-Palestine art do so to connect with others to say, “Hey, I see you. You’ve not been forgotten. We’re with you.” And maybe, just maybe, those things can provide a little bit of comfort and support for people trapped in the middle of this nightmare. God knows they deserve a moment of levity and solace.

That being said if that sort of thing really doesn’t gel with you, that’s fine. But you need to understand other people feel differently. Furthermore? There is still plenty of non-politicized fanart out there. Yet you get so worked up when you stumble across anyone who posts pro-Palestine related fanart in your wanderings that you obsess over it and then sulk for hours before going online and crying about how you can’t escape “The Current Bad Thing That’s Been Happening Lately”. It’s absolutely pathetic for someone your age to act this way.

Now that we’ve gotten all that out of the way, let’s get back on track: Your so-called "state of decision paralysis”.

That is a weak excuse for why you haven't do thing one to demonstrate your supposed support despite asserting it multiple times in your response. Saying you don't know what to boost? You don't know what's actual real vs fraudulent?

Well, Mx."I've known about the Palestinian conflict for 20+ years" you'd know if you were actually tuned into the issue, did a tiny bit of research to see which posts were gaining traction, checked their authenticity, or even followed Palestinians online. So yeah, that argument? It doesn’t track. And it’s contradictory too. For someone who claims to have over two decades of knowledge on this subject, you seem to know only two things: Jack and Shit.

1. Saying delving too deep into this subject would shut you down entirely? Apparently not since you had knowledge of this conflict before anyone else? You must be an oracle if you were able to see 20 years into the future! 2. Hesitant to donate because you’re weary of malicious scams? While understandable you can still find established charities like the UNRWA to provide relief or if you truly can’t spare the money, look into the backgrounds of those funds to see where the money is going so you can include links in your bio or boost posts that have them listed. 3. Can’t attend a protest? No one said it was required. I don’t know why you’re letting the charged language of more vocal or active supporters have so much influence over you like this. Can you really not weed out the impassioned from the manipulative? And don’t delude yourself into thinking getting arrested would have any impact on your parents. You’re over 18. You’d be responsible for you.

Oh but wait! The protests you are involved in are coincidental! Well, that balances out!

…I’m being sarcastic by the way if you can’t tell.

Saying you unknowingly have been joining the boycotts cause you avoided Starbucks/Walmart/McDonald's up until recently? That doesn't count if you weren't aware of the movement when it started, so stop trying to score brownie points from your followers.

The simple truth is you didn't want to boost anything because it didn’t fit the aesthetic of your blog so don't come online claiming you can't make a decision. I've said it before and I'll say it again: You only recently reblogged that one post to try and save face. If you truly cared about this situation then your blog would reflect that fact.

And now the last paragraph in section three and the entirety of section four: That I ”misrepresented your posts" and your issues with how people write "censor tags."

If you’re concerned about people misinterpreting your posts, you need to consider reviewing what you wrote before it goes up. With how much you complain over the news, anyone who watches you would assume you were making more digs at Palestine. And when you add that to the passive-aggressive posts you’ve already made, it's not hard to draw certain conclusions.

“I was being vague for the purposes of letting anyone fit in whatever thing they’d find upsetting and needing to filter, and that was deliberately taken as me dismissing a very specific travesty.”

Yeah. No. That does not line up with the timeline of breaking news and when you posted.

“In my case, I often times forget entirely to clear out my filters when I’m in a mindset to not need them anymore.”

Then why are you getting angry at being, in your own words, “tragedy-jump scared” when you’re the one who took the filters off in the first place? Why are you upset other people are still talking about an ongoing situation they want to know about instead of hiding themselves to protect your sensitive soul? And that leads me into the second paragraph…

Your complaint about how people misspell tags to get past the censors.

…I’m going to give you a quick crash course in Internet History because you either don't seem to understand the why: People wouldn't need to change the spelling of those tags if it wasn't being seen as something to already censor. The reason that type of "misspelling" began was because POCs were being censored for talking about their trauma and personal experiences by non-POCs. They became uncomfortable with POCs talking about racism, rape, suicide, gun violence, police brutality, abuse, drugs, alcohol. The POCs used purposeful misspellings so they could stop being harassed by non-POCs for making them uncomfortable or getting their stuff taken down. But before long, this practice migrated outside of Tumblr and has now been adapted by people who did not understand the original origin and it snowballed from there.

People like you always cry about how you hate seeing certain topics brought up but then turn around to complain about misspelled tags and how it trivializes serious subjects. People like you create these conditions and then act clueless about why it so. And why? Because you try to push your boundaries on other people to change their behavior instead of taking yourself out of the environment causing you stress. THAT is what true boundaries are.

However, tag censorship is your own personal pet peeve to deal with and I've wasted too much time on this tangent. It is seriously so hard to stay on message when you go off random topics unconnected to the core issue. Can’t help but feel that’s intentional to obscure things. I guess it works for you though. If you can’t counter an argument, just wear the other person down into giving up. Brevity must not be a word you’re unfamiliar with.

Too bad for you I’m actually willing to pick your response apart sentence by sentence so let’s get to the conclusion which for some reason is the longest section! I’m going to be jumping around a lot. Try to keep up.

1. I said earlier that Palestinian news is being suppressed as hell online here in the West. Getting news straight from the source is very important in situations like this. Suppression of information is detrimental to us as a whole so if people need to circumvent mass media censorship to tell the world what's really going on, so be it. I will stand in support of them. That will always matter more to me than the whims of advertisers or the lobbyists who have these companies in their pockets. Or in this specific case, the emotions of one sad blogger. 2. Just as I have the right to this information, you too have the right to burrow your head in the sand and remain blissfully unaware. You're an adult. You have the power to just close a tab or block anyone you wish. You have a lot of tools to curate your feed but you can’t do that and it’s not because its everywhere you look. It’s because if you truly cut yourself off, you’d have nothing of substance to say…not that you had much substance to begin with. You need a reason to complain. It helps you feel self-important. 3. The fact that a huge portion of your response was tangents about tag censorship, using fandom as a platform for political discussion, and retroactively joining boycotts demonstrates that you can't even give Palestine the attention it deserves, miring the issue with personal anecdotes or mindless prattle.

To put it bluntly, you're not someone who can have a mature conversation with me.

“You carefully made sure there was no way I would find your blog and your targeted harassment under normal circumstances–even with that one instance of you commenting directly on my post that led to me blocking you.”

The reason for this is right there in your very own words. I confronted you outright rather than trying to hide in your DM’s and you instantly block evaded me to avoid any further conversation. I had to resort to these backward measures of archiving because you cut all communication instantly. How can any effective communication be had when the other person chooses to run away rather than address the issue?

“You’d tagged all of your posts with tags you either knew or suspected I would have filtered via vanilla Tumblr so that I could not see it while logged in even if I unblocked you or told Tumblr to show me your blog despite my block, or perhaps you blocked me on that blog and Tumblr finally fixed the issue of blocked users being able to view the blogs of those that blocked them.”

Considering your block/filter list probably goes into the hundreds? I’m not surprised you couldn’t find me initially. And by the way, you’re still not blocked on my blog. You’re welcome to respond at any time. And unlike you, I won’t try to hide.

“Hell, I only found out about this in the first place from a mere google fluke, trying to make sure my own inattentiveness on a completely unrelated issue didn’t lead to someone doing exactly what you’ve done on that issue and just so happening to be on an incognito window while doing so.”

Gotta say that’s a hell of a coincidence. Also gotta say I don’t believe it for one damn second.

As far as I've witnessed, you’re extremely reactionary and simply unable to tolerate it when you get called out so don't try to hold me to a standard you yourself don't follow. I've seen how you interact with people who challenge you or disagree with you, including going out of your way to pester folks in their online space to provoke a reaction before you block evade, and then congratulate yourself as if you outwitted them and laugh "haha another hater”. This has always been about your attitude and your ignorance on subjects you don’t truly understand, putting your personal spin on things because of your own internal biases.

You’ve stated in your response that I’m guilty of harassment and running a smear campaign. I have to ask: What harassment? Pointing out your hypocrisy is not harassment. Informing other people of your true nature is not harassment. I’ve never used slurs or insults based on your identity. I’ve never doxxed you. I’ve never threatened to physically hurt you. Not liking someone is not harassment no matter how much it hurts your feelings.

If this was an actual smear campaign, why is it everything I’ve linked back to your blog still the same as when I first took the screencaps? If you consider sourced words with proper links a "smear campaign" that tells me you’re actually very afraid everything you’ve ever said coming back to bite you in the ass. This isn’t cruelty as you described. It’s pointing out all the holes in your arguments and letting your followers decide if they want to follow someone with such a judgmental view of the world.

“You don’t intend to make the world a better place by doing this, not in the slightest. No, instead you’ve just berated the “snowflake trigglypuff” for trying to keep their “safe space” intact, while painting that sentiment in the language of the social justice warrior you believe yourself to be rather than that of the crazy altright loser I believe (or at least hope) you’d find as repulsive as I do so that no one would clue in that that is in fact what you were doing.”

You really are projecting a lot.

Saying I’m co-opting the language of a social justice warrior? Suggesting I’m alt-right? You’re grasping at straws more than a choking sea turtle.

And calling yourself a “snowflake trigglypuff” even in jest? Who still uses edgy SJW terminology like this anymore? I think this says more about who you are than anything it could about me. I don’t need to reduce myself to dated insults like those. I can come up with far more effective wording to describe how callously ignorant you are.

“Clearly someone who thinks it’s in any way appropriate to tell someone, and I’m quoting mostly from memory as it’s been months, “I’m sure all those dead kids are glad you’re protecting your mental health” has NO sense of shame whatsoever. If I were to stoop to your level, I’d tell you that those same dead kids are probably really proud of you for harassing someone who has, at worst, made some tactless statements out of frustration.”

You are right about one thing, however. Those same “dead kids” don’t care about your mental health or about me calling you out. But this isn’t about those “dead kids”. It's about their families and friends who may still be alive. It’s about the other children who have been lucky enough to not been slaughtered. It’s about people who will suffer generational trauma and PTSD for the rest of their lives. It’s about the same people who may end up dying by their own hands because they can’t live in pain any longer. They’re the ones I’m concerned about.

The dead don’t care. The living do. The opposite of caring is not hatred. It’s indifference. And that’s why I’m speaking out against people like you who take the suffering of others and make it their platform to soliloquy about their first world hardships. So, to borrow a very old Tumblr-ism, I would check your privilege.

“I don’t believe for a second that you actually give two shits about the plight of the Palestinian people beyond some vague sense of "clout.”

Clout? Seriously? If I was interested in immaterial nonsense like that, do you think I’d be posting on Tumblr exclusively where things like “clout” don’t matter to anyone? No. I would be posting this everywhere to reach more people. The reason it’s only on Tumblr is because it’s where you primarily spend your time. It’s the only place you can be reached, where you can’t ignore me.

“I looked at your blog, its layout themed around the symbols of Palestinian liberation, and as far as I can tell it’s all just window dressing.”

And your poetry and posts are just soapboxes for you to puff yourself up or use as “cudgels”, as you say, to pester people into reading stories about your fan-made Pokémon region. Yet you want to accuse me of clout-chasing and using dead kids to bully you? Yeah. Okay. /s

Do you truly believe I’m doing this for attention? For some imaginary internet points to “win”? Win what exactly? What game do you believe we’re playing? There are no winners, only one loser talking out their ass.

Oh and as for this?

“Hell, with the vindictive nature of your blog, you’d think you'd’ve even had posts targeting other peoples who are at best trying to get on with their lives through the 24-hour news cycle of death and destruction or at worst actively supporting the deaths of innocents. (I still wouldn’t encourage such things, but it’d at least make sense given your general vibe).”

There’s nothing vindictive about cataloging these posts and making sure you can’t hide your judgmental nature behind that paper thin veneer of wholesomeness you try to fool people with. The reason I called you out specifically is because you’re a two-faced jackal. That’s the true core of my dislike of you: Presenting an image of niceness while hiding the vileness behind fluffy words and emotionally manipulative language to make people feel sorry for you.

You're not someone to support as an artist. Frankly, you're not a wholesome person either. You're judgmental, emotionally immature, and have a lot of issues, issues you couldn't even pay me to address. I don’t know what you need but it’s something well above my pay grade to diagnose.

And finally we’re going to close this disaster out by talking about your suspicions of my identity. I’m going to summarize because a lot of it is repetitive from earlier points or in the section itself.

You’ve identified me as “H” and for a short while believed I was someone called “A”. You believed that “A” was upset by you and took their frustration out on you, leading you to unfollow “A”. You later realized that wasn’t the case and are now referring to me as “H” (for Harasser). Clever.

I'm not “A” or “H” or any other letter of the alphabet. You’re just upset you don't know how else to address me because I’m smart enough to not leave so much of my personal details online. Whatever happened 4 years ago with whoever? That's not me. Try and not be so quick to assume before you start pointing fingers. You make yourself look paranoid. If you’ve got beef with other people, make sure you're addressing the right person at the least.

I already said multiple times I was a follower of yours and only called you out about the Palestinian stuff because I was appalled that someone I once saw as a good kind person morphed into a self-centered jackass who had no problem using a tragedy as a means to emotionally manipulate people into paying attention to them. If you don't believe me, that's on you. But if anyone uses this genocide as bait for their own little pity party, I'm not afraid to draw attention to it. And since you claimed to have known about the Palestinians for more than 20+ years, I’m holding you even more accountable to get it right and act gracefully.

“Maybe you’ve gone after more than just them, but these are the two I know of for certain. M told me directly, and I saw C’s post about getting an anon “warning” her about someone with an “anti-religion agenda”, and because I’m not a complete moron I could put two and two together because that’s the kind of bullshit religious people spread about atheists all the damn time.”

The only person talking about religion here is you. What I’m doing is pointing out how your animosity towards religion has given you a bias towards the Israel vs Palestine situation because you can’t see past the faith of people in that region. I merely pointed out your concerning behavior to your mutuals because “M” and “C” have the right to know your true character. Friends should not be complicit when one of them is acting poorly.

“Like I’ve said numerous times, I’d take a dozen progressive theists over one asshole atheist.”

Those same progressive theists? They want nothing to do with you. Not even other atheists would want you. You are the asshole atheist in this scenario because you are incapable of thinking critically and simply write off the whole genocide as religious zealots fighting over the Holy Land because God told them to. It always comes back to this. You keep making the genocide about martyrdom so it's easier to maintain your hatred of all things religion. “But you are no hero, nor am I a villain, and I would not be so gauche as to claim the reverse is true either. We’re just a couple of randos on the internet, one who has an unhealthy level of vitriol toward the until-recently clueless other.”

And finally, we come to the point where you try to appeal to my sense of empathy by a generic “we’re all people at the end of the day” sentimentality, going even so far as to say that you’d never claim I was the villain. You’re not going to placate me this way. Stop trying to minimize your actions and act like they are inconsequential. They’re the earmarks of a person with poor morale character. You asked what I hope to gain from doing this?

I want you to drop this façade and either do better or start being honest. You’re full of false sincerity and niceness, pretending to be the bigger person while also muttering your petty disdain for people who don’t think like you, like what you like, or share your exact beliefs. You hide it subtly in the way you write. You think you’re above reproach. You’re the judgmental rotten soul you see in everyone else.

The only reason you'll end up as a "Persona non grata" is because how you present yourself online will eventually catch up with you. At some point, everyone will grow tired of watching you spinning your wheels and gaining no traction anywhere. They will move on to something that's actually worth their time. But until then I will continue to warn others about you and show them your true personality. Take the advice you gave me: Fix yourself and do better or disappear into irrelevance and be forgotten.

PS:

“Whatever your goal was with that, it was your final mistake, because now I know exactly who you are.”

Your threat has no teeth. If you really knew who I was, you’d name me or you'd at least open up a conversation with me. But you won’t. You never will. You’ll continue to cower away while putting on a mask of confidence and arrogance, thinking you outsmarted me until the only one applauding you is yourself.