#that said. i will never forgive red hook for. so many of these writing choices. and honestly also the game design choices

[atissi]

as much as i dislike a lot of the backstory re-writes in darkest dungeon 2, i still think it's cute that plague doctor loses stress when she sees her professor cough up blood. you can take the freak actions away from the scientist but you cannot take away the freak behaviour.

[phantomram-b00]

You know what time it is?? Me rambling about season 2 again. This time, I wanna talk about some stuff a family member mention about regarding Aziraphale’s action and whatnot since it never really left my mind, mostly because I can’t help but disagree.

My family member first mentioned how Aziraphale could’ve told Metatron to give him a minute and talk to Crowley before going to the elevator and how they were mad that he step inside anyway.

Okay I want to prefix by saying, don’t we all? I do think the fandom are ready to see him to do an apology dance more than Michael Sheen himself. But what they said about this, and look I feel this might be unpopular but: Metatron would not have giving Aziraphale another chance nor did Aziraphale had a choice really.

“Phantom why you say that?”

Because, Metatron hooked him into a trap by saying Aziraphale’s favorite word, “Crowley” and the fact that he get to come with him. Which, think about it, Aziraphale wasn’t giving Heaven a second thought it wasn’t until Gabriel and the shenanigans came in is when heaven became the focus again. And then Metatron give him a promotion and like many have pointed out, he said no. But once Crowley came into the picture, he was ready to share the “big news”. And one thing about Aziraphale is while he clever, like my family member said he ultimately chooses became ignorant and almost refusing to see the gapping red flag. It kinda like when an intense scene is happening and you want to cover your eyes but you still wanna look? That’s kinda what Aziraphale doing just he covering his eyes in an effort to not see the alarm bell ringing but still looking since deep down he know something isn’t right, even Crowley is telling him “something smell absolutely foul”. Even then, he still is not looking at the bigger picture, he’s more or less focusing onto the fact that he could possible make heaven/earth better and to have Crowley there. But that not what Crowley wants.

And of course, we see that Crowley ends up being right, the second coming is happening. Which is why he look back at Crowley, this is where my family member said “he could’ve told metatron to wait and go to Crowley to tell him about the second coming” which, um, given that as soon as Crowley left after Aziraphale said “I forgive you” (that hurts writing it wtf Aziraphale), metatron simultaneous showed up not letting Aziraphale process what just happen, he was just kissed by his crush- no, his love interest. His best friend since the beginning of time/garden of Eden. (And with implication, most likely kissed back).

Look, I’m not the best with social cues/facial expression. However, seeing just his eye, you can see him going through the motions, you can see that he place his hand on his lips. Even when his eyes are glassy, he not only processing the kiss but what he just said to his best friend, his partner in crime, his love interest; and that is breaking his heart just as much as it broke Crowley’s heart, but he wasn’t giving that choice to dwell because guess who shows up after divorcing their unofficial official marriage for them:

And this that, Aziraphale had to go, he agreed to take up this offer. Even if Crowley wasn’t gonna go or not (which remember this imma bring it up later), and so he kinda had to take the L and go with metatron. Now going back to metatron reveal the thing Crowley was talking about. Could Aziraphale had told metatron to wait so he goes back to Crowley? I mean he could’ve but who to say Metatron was even going to give him the time of day if he wasn’t going to let Aziraphale process what transpired? Metatron doesn’t want any more setbacks, he needed Aziraphale and he did. He won. But also, I feel Aziraphale felt he burnt his bridges and is afraid to go up to Crowley to say he was right, especially since I don’t think that not what he wants to hear, but you bet that if metatron wasn’t there, he would’ve so ran to Crowley in a heartbeat. But he can’t. He going back into the box he created before meeting Crowley and so he walked away with metatron to the elevator.

Now thinking about it, this look reminds me when Crowley first suggesting running away to Alpha Centauri. He’s exhibiting that he does want to go off with Crowley; he want nothing more than to go toward or even be with Crowley. But what do both these instances have in common? is that Heaven is what tying his hands down. Only this time, he think he can’t because he felt he betrayed and lost Crowley and now he has to go back and hope to make things better and not let the world die again. So that’s why I feel Metatron wasn’t gonna give him another chance or that Aziraphale had any liberties; I did mentioned this on my Aziraphale post about how heaven prevents him to progress as a angel/person or let him have a say without being judged. Hell metaton called Muriel “dim”, I think Aziraphale more than anything want to satisfy his hopeless romantic desire and run away with him, but I feel his love for humanity is also the factor as earth is where they made all the memories, all their growth, and much more. Frankly, Aziraphale was put between a rock and a hard place, and Metatron was never going to make this easy. It like in Season 1, Episode 4, when we first met him, right off the bat Metatron lays it out that armageddon is the key to start the war and win it; like the other angels he’s just as war hungry and doesn’t care about humanity. Now that episode he didn’t drag him back to heaven but he did warn him not to stall, so I don’t think this situation is any different as he doesn’t want any more setback, he want the second coming to happen no matter the damage he caused. He. Does. Not. Care. For. Aziraphale. (Or anybody/anything in that matter). He can switch it up and act gentle and kind but underneath it all; he just want blood from the demons and win this biblical holy war because it’s “the ineffable plan”. So I don’t think Metatron would’ve giving Aziraphale another minute in earth because he doesn’t want to waste anymore time and frankly there most likely something about Aziraphale he needs. Because he could’ve promoted Michael or Uriel or even Saraqael, but no. Something about Aziraphale he needs and he need him to start up the plan and he can’t wait.

Now another thing my family member brings up is that, Azirphale want to change Crowley and make him an angel again.

Look, it might seem that way and I can understand how it can seem that way given the scene. However, I disagree because, given they’ve spent millennia together I don’t think Azirpahale want to change Crowley at all. Now sure, have he ever make comment about Crowley being a demon? Yeah of course, as well as Crowley make comment about Aziraphale being an angel (*cough* Jobs episode is a prime example) but not once have he ever make a remark or show he want Crowley to change by any means. If that was the case, don’t you think he would’ve stayed friend let alone fall in love with Crowley if he wanted him to change?

Look at that smile, oh wait actually let me prove more

Okay to refrain myself from showing more of these husbands/spouses/wives (whichever you prefer ^^), the point I’m trying to make is Aziraphale would never ask Crowley to change himself because in his eyes he’s already perfect. He was perfect when he first met him as an angel and he was just as perfect when they met again at the garden. Now of course, in Episode two of season two, he does kinda make remark regarding Crowley’s morals but I toke that as the fact that Aziraphale only knows the morals that heaven defined for them and sure Azirphale have shown to follow his own moral compass like giving the sword away and saving job’s kids but given that he had a breakdown because he thought he was going to fall just for saving kids, we got a glimpse of him battling with morals and even still is now. Even back in, season one even thought he wants to stop armageddon still almost follows heaven, episode 3, he tried to back pedal and even went as far as try to convince himself that he doesn’t like Crowley (yeah okay Aziraphale surreeee 🤨). I do think season 2, is another example between the flashbacks and the current timeline. Episode three of season 2 kinda show the flaw in what Aziraphale’s idea of moral taught by heaven, just because what you think is right ≠ good morals (at least not always anyway.) he sabotage Elspeth during her job because he fear this whole thing was sinful and would damn her soul despite the fact the only reason she did it is to survive the streets of Edinburgh. Sure you can say it not the best way but given the context she most likely don’t have a lot of options. I just think, Aziraphale refused to accept the fact that he’s morally grey (I almost said he struggles, but I want to give him props that he clever enough to know that he isn’t morally white.) and want to see things black and white not knowing there a grey line in between those colors.

But I digress, even with this, Aziraphale accept and respect Crowley’s morals within the six thousand years they’ve known each other. He respects Crowley as a person too, he trust him with his life. (This is them toasting after Aziraphale almost died twice in one day both the church and a magic trick. What a day.) i don’t think he would want to change that, I mean this is the same year he had an epiphany that he loves Crowley.

Now, imma go into the status with Aziraphale wanting Crowley to be an angel again. Now said this in the beginning of this paragraph, and while sure with this it does seem like he want to change him But, I think this is more or less wanting to give Crowley the title he deserve after falling for something so simple as asking a question. (Again we don’t know why he fell, we still going within implication until season 3 get confirmed. I’m just throwing this out there). Aziraphale see this as wanting to give Crowley back the title that was rightfully his and want to change heaven with Crowley; he know how Crowley feel about heaven, he deeply disagrees with heaven and their views on their twist ideology. We seen him comment on this within season 1/2, with garden of eden, the flood, job, and armageddon itself and Aziraphale despite hiding it, agrees with him. So I think aziraphale was trying to use this as a way to tell Crowley, “Come with me, let’s go fix heaven and make things right. Let me give you a chance to come back after they wrongfully cast you out.” While also saying “I don’t want to go alone.”

“I need you”. Probably the most heartbreaking quote (besides no nightingales/I forgive you). Sure, even after he said “nothing last forever”, he still needs Crowley not just because he loves him both romantically and in a name of friendship. Because Crowley is his other half of the what complete him and he can’t imagine being without him. Again, he would NEVER have went to heaven if it wasn’t for the fact he could take Crowley. He wouldn’t want to change him, all he wanted is to fix heaven for/with crowley and want to save the world with Crowley. In his own way. not even seeing just how problematic it is for Aziraphale where even after the shit they put him through and even AFTER, when they try to execute him with HELLFIRE. He choose heaven ultimately, regardless if Crowley was gonna go or not. He already made his choice to leave and he unfortunately had to stick with it. Losing the things he love all in one day. Especially now with the second coming going into motion. I don’t doubt that if metatron wasn’t in the elevator that Aziraphale would’ve had a heart wrenching sob, I’m surprise he didn’t even shed a tear still. Man these biblical bitches are going through it and it breaking my heart each time I think more about this.

This is probably my longest post I’ve ever made, I think mostly because I needed to get this off my chest. Granted despite this, I respect their opinions. I’m just giving my two cent on this. So I’m open to hear you guy’s opinion on this. I love this show and this fandom and I don’t think it going away anytime soon. Neil Gaiman and the cast killed it with this show and the story and I’m excited for what season 3 might offer.

But before I stop, I do wanna mini ramble about how at first I couldn’t be able to listen to Everday without crying. (I might make a post about it. Maybe. Let’s see lol.) and at first I couldn’t put my finger on it until recently. I know everyday is more or less Ineffable  bureaucracy’s song; but I also see this as Ineffable husband’s song. Why? Well given how season 3 might be the last, I do think this song is foreshadowing their relationship and how it getting closer and their love will surely come their way. A-hey A-hey hey (I wanna say more but I don’t wanna talk more than I already did lol. Hope you guys like this post and have a good omen day ^^)

[reids-rendering-reality]

Drunk Dials

Summary: Y/N and Penelope are having a fun night off drinking until Penelope has the idea to drunk text the entire team some promiscuous messages and one of them takes up the offer.

(A/N: inspired by this post, written with permission)

Type: lead up to smut (if you guys enjoy this, I might write a smutty part two)

Warnings: alcohol consumption

Word Count: 1.5K

 I quickly sprayed on a little perfume and hurried to the door when I heard the doorbell ring. I opened the door to find Penelope with her typical bright colours, tonight’s were a bright green and purple.

“Hii,” I giggled while hugging her and let her inside, “I see you’ve come prepared.”

And indeed she had: under her arms were two bottles of red wine and her bag made clinking noises from glass as she set it down on my kitchen counter to reveal two more bottles.

“Who else did you invite? We can’t drink all that by ourselves,” I grinned at her. While we did the occasional drinking with the team, my tolerance was in no way capable of the amount of alcohol she had brought.

“Well, the night is young. Watch and learn, my little butterfly,” she responded and carried the first bottle over to the couch. I followed after her, two glasses in my hands and the wine opener tucked under my arm.

And so the night ensued with a lot of laughter and drinks, some dancing and so much gossiping. Halfway into the second bottle I was navigating the fine line between tipsy and drunk while Penelope appeared to be slightly tipsy. How could her tiny body carry so much alcohol?

“Let’s play truth or dare!” she exclaimed, “but if you don’t want to do it, you drink.”

“Oh god, my body will hate me tomorrow,” I complained, but added, “but right now it seems like a great idea.”

“Your body will forgive you because of the fun we’re having tonight. I’ll start. Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” I responded, pouring more wine into our glasses.

“Who was the last person you slept with?” she grinned and clinked her glass to mine before taking a sip.

“Starting off strong,” I chuckled and then thought about my answer for a moment, “I think it was that police officer a couple of months ago from that case in Denver. I haven’t had sex in way too long.”

“A couple of months is a pretty long time. Was it that one with the cute little butt? He was the embodiment of ‘sweet cheeks’,” she swooned a little.

“Yes, exactly him. It wasn’t that satisfying though. Although he was good-looking, he was pretty egocentric in bed,” I commented and took another drink from my glass.

“Well, it’s time for your luck to change. You are lucky to have me, your personal oracle and booty call finder. We will find you someone to give you as many orgasms as your little heart desires – or can handle if you’re into that,” Penelope says and raises her glass dramatically.

A couple of truths, dares and a lot of drinks later, we were both shit-faced drunk and laughing on my couch. In front of us was the third bottle, which was now almost empty as we tried to catch our breath.

“Alright, your turn again, darling dearest. Truth or dare, choose wisely,” Penelope says still chuckling and readjusting her seating position.

“Dare. Bring it on,” I said, my words slightly slurred already. Leave it to Penelope to get me as drunk as I last was on my 21st birthday.

“I’ve got a good one, get your phone, baby,” she said setting down her glass. When she saw my quizzical look she continued, “you are going to text everyone on the team-“

Before she could continue I interrupted, “no no no, that sounds like a horrible idea. I am in no position to make any choices right now,” I laughed and swayed slightly.

“I am making the choice for you. You are going to get some action in the sheets and I am going to bring it to you. Your phone will be the arrow that my cupid’s bow will use to shoot you into your next naked bliss.”

“Oh my god, what is your plan?” I fake-groaned, actually being completely entertained by the idea.

“You my dear, are going to text everyone from our team, the simple words, ‘hey you wanna fuck?’ and we’ll see who responds,” she said excitedly.

“Even Rossi and Hotch?”

“Even them. Everyone.”

“Alright, just because it’s you, Pen,” I said and grabbed my phone.

She leaned over my shoulder and watched me as I began texting. I copy-pasted the message to Spencer, Derek, JJ, Emily, Rossi and Hotch. I could hear Penelope giggling the entire time. When I was done, I remembered I could’ve just taken a drink to get out of the dare, but it was too late now.

After a couple of minutes I was still dying of embarrassment of what I had just done, but still laughing with Penelope as my phone lit up for the first time.

We both instantly looked over and I grabbed my phone. My heart was racing. I had never done anything like this before.

JJ: I’m married???

When we read the message we both burst out in laughter. JJ knew that Penelope and I were hanging out today and obviously caught on to what we were doing.

“Let me respond!” she said and I handed my phone to her.

Me: Will doesn’t have to know ;)

“Penelope!” I exclaimed in between laughter.

 A while later almost everyone else on the team had responded:

Rossi: Sorry to disappoint you, kid, but you’re not in my age range for wife number four. I’m sure you’ll find someone else to complete the job.

Derek: I thought you’d never ask.

Emily: I’m down anytime.

Hotch: I’m sure this was meant for someone else. If not: I’m your boss??

 Penelope and I continued the night with laughter over the texts and other stupid drunk dares until it was about 4am. Spencer still hadn’t responded. I was slightly disappointed as I had taken a liking towards the doctor since my time at the BAU.

“I can’t believe Spencer didn’t respond. I thought for sure that he’s got a crush on you,” Penelope said while trying to put on her heels at the door.

“I don’t know about that, but drunk me wants him to respond to my booty call.”

“Honey, I’m sure that’s not just drunk you,” she said with a grin.

We hugged each other goodbye and she began swaying down the hallway to her cab waiting outside.

I got ready for bed and drank a glass of water. All the while still no response. Assuming that he’d read the message but just ignored it and went to bed, I did the same. From the beginning of my time at the BAU I had that crush on Spencer, but I guess it wasn’t mutual.

The next morning I woke up with a huge headache as expected. I sighed and checked my phone. Still no response. I made myself a coffee and got dressed to go into work as slowly as possible. After those drunk texts I did not want to see anyone today.

 I was the last to arrive at the bullpen that day. My headache had lifted and I was fit enough to survive a typical paperwork day. But the embarrassment had stayed. What was I thinking, texting everyone to hook up with me? I wasn’t thinking, that’s it.

To my surprise, no one commented on it. They probably all understood that it was just a drunken game because Penelope and I had been talking about our meet up yesterday. To say I was relieved was an understatement. But Spencer was different from his usual behaviour around me. His head was stuck in a book the entire day – he didn’t look at me once.

That changed however, when I was making myself a coffee at lunch. Pouring some into a cup I almost jumped at the sound of Spencer’s voice.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said casually and walked up to me, mug in hand.

“Hi, Spence,” I responded quietly and added some milk. I looked up at him briefly to find his eyes focused intently on pouring the liquid.

Just as I was about to leave for my desk, he spoke up again.

“About your text from last night,” he began to say. I felt my cheeks heat up and turned back around to him.

“Yes?” I forced myself to look at him, just to see him even more blushed than I was.

“Was that for me? I mean, I would very well understand if it was an accident and it was meant for someone else. It surprised me to say the least.”

Deciding to take my chance, I said, “no, it was meant for you.”

“And are you serious about it?” he looked back down at his mug.

I took a step closer to him, “am I serious about fucking you?”

Upon hearing those words, his eyes shot up towards mine and he gulped. He looked almost as though he feared my response as he nodded.

“Yes.”

I saw his mouth open and close, obviously trying to formulate a response but not finding one.

“Um, I don’t really know how to say this, but um- I’d like that.”

[blurglesmurfklaine]

If the World Was Ending

A/N: not to be that bicth who writes song lyrics as a summary but…

Summary: 

I know, you know, we know You weren’t down for forever and it’s fine…

But if the world was ending, you’d come over right?

“The human race on the edge of extinction, and all Kurt can think about is his ex-fiance.”

Based on If the World Was Ending by JP Saxe

1908 words, angst, reconciliation fic (seasin six AU ish)

A/N (edit): This started out rated G but now it’s rated E oops

Read On AO3

***

He’d called his dad.

“I’m coming home,” he’d blubbered. “It’s not too long of a drive.”

“You and I both know there’s no way you’re getting out of New York right now, kiddo. The roads are gonna be way too congested, no one’s going anywhere.”

“Then I’ll book a flight.”

“Airlines aren’t operating. Indefinitely.”

“I will walk if I have to then, I don’t care, dad. This can’t be—I have to see you. I don’t want—”

“Kurt,” his dad said, a brittle finality in his tone. 

And Kurt knew what it meant. He could waste his last breaths trying, but there was no way he was getting back to Lima before time was up.

So many things he’d wanted to say. I’m so scared. I don’t want to be alone. But with an invisible countdown hanging forebodingly over everyone’s head, all there was time for were the words that mattered. 

“I love you, Dad,” he’d whispered brokenly.

“I know,” Burt had replied. “I love you, too. So much.”

“Tell Carole and Finn I love them.”

“They know. I will, but they know.”

Silence taught between the lines, heavy with the not wanting to let go. 

“Kurt…”

“Yeah?”

“You should go see him.”

And the line went dead.

Kurt had cried, tried to redial, screamed pathetically at his phone until his vocal cords were raw with the fear and loneliness that have been aching in him ever since he broke things off with Blaine, amplified now by the blood-stained sunset and the steadily increasing heat.

Solar flares, they’d said on the news that morning. Just a rare, astronomical anomaly, something to mark on the calendar. By the time Kurt had gotten out of his last class, it seemed there would be no more calendar to mark. NASA’s top astrophysicist estimated they had until sunset before the planet was burnt to a crisp. 

The human race on the edge of extinction, and all Kurt can think about is his ex-fiance.

What a horrid way to find out that he does, in fact, want to spend the rest of his life with Blaine.

He’s passed Blaine’s new apartment now and then, feeling an undercurrent of regret every time he did, and now, his feet seem to follow his heart there. 

Fear makes his arm heavy when he finally reaches the front door to Blaine;s new apartment, but something deeper, stronger within him gives him no choice but to knock. 

There’s a little peephole on the front of the door. Kurt imagines Blaine taking one single glance through it, scoffing, and walking away. He’d probably be happier to see a takeout delivery boy than he would the ex-fiance that left him high and dry, broke the best thing that ever happened to him, then left Blaine anchorless. 

If Blaine hates him, Kurt could never blame him for turning him away, even as their demise creeps up behind them.

Click.

The door unlatches and groans open slowly, revealing a familiar face. 

Blaine doesn’t look angry. He doesn’t look confused, or surprised, or any of the reactions Kurt might’ve envisioned. He just looks relieved.

In an attempt to dry his quickly dying throat, not wanting his voice to crack when he speaks to Blaine for the first time in months, Kurt swallows. “Hi, Blaine,” he manages.

There’s only time to register a miniscule waver in Blaine’s lips before his arms are around Kurt and both of them have collapsed in the doorway, reduced to a heap of sobs.

God there are so many things that race through Kurt’s mind like missiles exploding into more sobs before they find their way out of his mouth, but he can’t find the strength to verbalize any of that right now.

Oh, and he doesn’t have to. He doesn’t have to be strong around Blaine, doesn’t have to hold himself twice as solidly as he does around him and Jesus how he’s missed it. He misses the freedom of not having to hold yourself together when you submit to someone your vulnerability.

Nuzzling his wet face into the familiar curve of where Blaine’s shoulder and neck meet, Kurt is reminded of the safety his relationship with Blaine offered him, that all-encompassing security Kurt once mistook as a suffocating confine because… well, a house can feel like a prison to someone who's never had a home before.

And Blaine is his home, he knows that now. Hell, he’s always known it, and was afraid of it. 

After the apparent shock of having Kurt in his arms again wears off, Blaine pulls away to get a better look at him. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I tried calling you, but I didn’t know if the lines were working after—” 

“I know, I know,” Kurt says frantically, a bit fearfully. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be here, or if you’d even let me in.”

Blaine lets out a wet little laugh that’s halfway a sob. “Kurt, I will always let you in,” he says, and then surges forward to crash his lips onto Kurt’s.

In a flurry of motion, they pick themselves up off the floor and tumble inside the apartment, a mess of flesh and libs desperately trying to cling to each other. As if they are reading each other’s minds, as if they haven’t been separated for months, they each follow the other’s lead. 

The force of the kiss sends them staggering backwards, until Kurt’s back slams roughly against the living room wall. “Shit,” Blaine breathes, pulling away to check on Kurt. “You okay?”

Kurt just pulls him back in, not wanting to have him away for longer than absolutely necessary. “‘M okay,” Kurt mumbles messily against Blaine’s lips. “Just. Don’t stop. Need you.”

Kurt reaches out to unbutton Blaine’s jeans and Blaine returns the favor. A sense of urgency hangs thick in the air, and there’s no time to worry about getting the rest of their clothes off once Kurt’s kicked off his pants to the floor and Blaine has his pulled down enough to free his trapped cock.

Making sure they never break their kiss, Blaine reaches down to grab Kurt’s ass and hoists him up into his hips, using his weight to pin Kurt to the wall while Kurt wraps his legs around Blaine, hooking them together at the ankles.

And then Blaine presses in, and Kurt can feel himself start to fall apart.

Up until now, they’d felt the urgency, the need to rush and just finally be with each other again. But now that Blaine has finally slipped inside him, he rocks his hips forward slowly, fucking into Kurt as if they have eons left together, an eternity instead of mere hours.

With each thrust, Kurt lets out an involuntary cross between a whine and a moan, throwing his head back before eventually burying it into Blaine’s neck and gripping the back of his shirt tightly with his fists. Blaine doesn’t pick up the pace, though; he seems determined to make this last as long as he can, even if it means watching Kurt come utterly undone, still pinned between Blaine’s warmth and the wall.

Kurt feels dizzy and heady with Blaine’s body, and every motion his ex-fiance makes sends another pulse of electricity throughout Kurt’s entire body. Somehow, Kurt manages to gather up enough brain power to think to press his lips to Blaine’s shoulder, messy and wet and sloppy. One by one, he peppers a trail of kisses upwards. From Blaine’s shoulder, to the crook of his neck, to his chin, until finally their lips are together again and Kurt lets Blaine breathe in every broken noise from his mouth. 

It occurs to him, suddenly, how truly lucky he is. What a privilege it is to be able to experience, one last time, the forever he so cowardly tossed aside. This is what he gave up. The man holding him up against the apartment wall, loving him so tenderly, forgivingly, as if Kurt didn’t shatter him a few months ago. The man who could map out every inch of Kurt’s body and soul blindfolded, and using that knowledge to show Kurt exactly how much he still loves him. The kind of love that could hold on when one of them walked away, that could be so understanding, that could forgive when Kurt said some unloving things to the person he loves most in the world.

Kurt had all of this right in the palm of his hand, and he just… let it all go.

When Blaine bucks his hips up this time, Kurt is unable to keep his little moan from evolving into a sob as he once again drops his head into Blaine’s neck, trying to hide his face, red and wet with tears.

In an instant, Blaine is there, cradling Kurt in his hands and lifting his face. “Kurt, baby, what’s wrong? Do you need me to stop—”

Kurt shakes his head and reaches to hold Blaine’s face as well. “No, no, please, don’t stop. I just—” Getting the words out between sobs is proving much more difficult than Kurt could have ever imagined. “I’m so sorry, Blaine. God, I am so fucking sorry. I love you so, so much, and I don’t even know why I—I’m just so sorry.”

 Blaine smooths the sides of Kurt’s hair down, lips quavering before letting his entire face crumble. “It’s okay. None of that matters now.”

It’s then, that Blaine finally quickens his pace slightly, and it’s enough for Kurt to get close again. Blaine wraps a fist around Kurt’s cock trapped between them and starts pumping in time with his thrusts. He leans forward to kiss Kurt one more time, as if the fifty they’ve already shared weren’t enough, and mumbles, “I love you, too.”

And that’s all it takes—knowing that despite it all, Blaine can say those words and still mean them—to send Kurt over the edge, spilling out between their bodies. Blaine keeps fucking him through the height of his orgasm, each strong roll of his hips bringing Kurt to the brink of overstimulation, and after a few seconds, Kurt can feel him finally coming inside of him, little pulses sending aftershocks through Kurt. 

They stay there for a moment—only for a moment, as the ones they have left together are limited—doing nothing except remaining intertwined with each other, holding each other, breathing together.  

Hours later, when they both have cleaned up and come down from their post-orgasm highs, when Blaine has told Kurt about the phone call he got to have with his parents and Cooper, they just lie in Blaine’s bed, wrapped around one another, hands interlocked.

It’s nearly ten at night, but the sky is bright as noon outside. Kurt has always prided himself on his courage, but doesn’t want to lie to himself and say that he isn't afraid to die. He’s fucking terrified. 

But then he looks at Blaine and Everything’s going to be okay, doesn’t feel like the blatant lie it is.

It’s getting harder and harder for Kurt to imagine why he’d ever left him behind. At the time, he’d thought they were nothing more than someone once innocent, now broken.

Maybe they are. But just like Blaine said, none of that matters. 

Because in these final moments they’re sharing, in the sun’s fatal rays, even shattered glass will glitter like the gold they once were.

[johnkrrasinski]

nothing to forgive; 

full masterlist

Pairings: dark!Ransom Drysdale x female!reader

Word count: 4,014

Warning: smut!!! BDSM, use of toys, dirty talk, stalking, humiliation. (MUST BE 18+)

Summary: there’s nothing more dangerous than a jealous ransom drysdale. 

a/n: this is for @imanuglywombat​’s 4k writing challenge. i chose the song “jealous” by labyrinth with the city as for the moodboard. i know it’s a heartbreak song but i just couldn’t resist taking ransom to the extreme with the title. this was fun to write. hope you like it. please leave a like & comment. enjoy!

If there’s anything to describe Ransom as a lover, it would be a jealous one. No, he’s not exactly an insecure boyfriend. He knows the appeal that he possesses and the charisma that he carries. He knows with that dashing face of his, he could get any woman he desired, with only the touch of those aquatic orbs and that enticingly smug attitude.

And of course, he had you wrapped around his finger too. And he liked it while it lasted. But what he strongly does not like is when someone dares to even think about getting close to what’s his.

You, a fierce, headstrong woman; someone who had no interest in wasting her time on incompetent men who were incapable of keeping up with you and your swiftly flourishing career. You were too busy building your thriving makeup company that is soon to be an empire. You were proud of your baby.

And you weren’t talking about Ransom, hell no.

He lost you the moment you found out that he slept with another woman whilst he was on his trip to London doing God knows what. Ransom likes to go on random lavish trips because his inane brain has no idea what should he spend his money on. The money that he didn’t even work for a day in his life. The money that he was so entitled to because of his family’s wealth.

You really liked Ransom at one point. Your families grew up together and you and him hooked up every now and then every time he was in New York, the city where you lived or you were back home and needed to release some tension.

He was hot and he knew your body inside out well enough to give you a good orgasm. And so, last summer, you two began dating after he jokingly asked you out after you gave him one of the best blowjobs in his life. You rejected him at first but he kept insisting until you had no other choice but relented. He was such a persevering man when he wanted to be.

It lasted for an entire summer, he would go back and forth to New York to see you and fuck you on every surface of your apartment or he would take you to his five stars hotel and aggravate the other guests by making you moan like you two owned the place.

Until last Christmas when he didn’t even tell you that he was going to London, which you only found out through Linda Drysdale when you visited the Drysdale household. You weren’t one to be a clingy girlfriend, but when your ‘boyfriend’ doesn’t even inform you at all that he was going on a spontaneous trip, it was pure outrageous.

When he went back to Boston three days later after his unbeknown trip, he went straight to your parents’ house where you were staying for another late-night rendezvous. Your parents weren’t home yet due to them being at a Christmas party that you weren’t interested in attending so you had to pretend that you had unbearable cramps and that you needed to stay at home.

Ransom didn’t spot your parents’ car so he knocked on the front door and waited until one of your maids opened it. You didn't expect him to return this soon so you didn’t bother leaving a message to your maids that if Ransom comes, don’t open the door for him. So he went straight to your bedroom and there was a contented smile on his face.

“Hey babygirl, I’ve missed you.” He took off his coat and hung it on your study chair.

“What the hell are you doing here, Ransom?” You truly didn’t expect to see him tonight. You were in the middle of answering some of your work emails regarding the packaging of your upcoming eyeshadow palette. Work didn’t stop despite the calendar saying it’s Christmas.

“Well I had to see you first after my trip, baby. You know I’ve missed you.”

“You asshole! You didn’t even fucking tell me that you were going to London!” You got up from bed, ready to punch him on his stupid gorgeous face.

“Sorry, baby, it was a last-minute trip. I just had to get away from my shitty family before Christmas comes so I don’t have to see all of them. I didn’t tell you because I wanted to surprise you when I get back.” He kissed you before you could even reply. You’d never admit it but the way he plays his tricks with his lips always prevails every fiery emotion in you. So you decided to let it go. Not that you had much of a choice anyway when his hands were already roaming under your oversized sweater before taking it off of you.

After making you cum twice and chased his own release, Ransom fell asleep seconds away next to you. You couldn’t help but admire his sculpted figure as you were lying bare next to him. He looked so… gentle when he was sleeping. Anything that he wasn’t when he’s wide awake.

Sometimes you wondered, is there a future for the both of you? You weren’t one to settle down and have kids. You loved your freedom and you would like to hold on to your youth a little longer. Marriage and kids are going to make you feel like you gained 50 years into your age and you weren’t ready for that. You don’t think you’d ever be, honestly.

But if you could take a look into the future to see whether you and him are going to stay together or not, you would. You didn’t want to waste your time by committing to a man when you could be sleeping around with actors and models. Of course, you could do that too whilst still dating him. He didn’t have to know. But, if there’s anything that you execrated is cheating.

You took pride in your deep-rooted loyalty. You didn’t share your love with too many people but the lucky ones who do have a piece of your heart were promised of your devotion. And that includes Ransom.

Not for long though.

You rose to your feet to use the lavatory in your room. After you were done, you walked to your study chair where Ransom’s coat was placed and then you grabbed it with the intention of hanging it on the coat hanger. Gosh, Ransom could be quite disorganized sometimes.

You had this habit before you put your raiments where they belong, you’d always rummage through the pockets to make sure that you didn’t forget a valuable item there that would cause you to act frantic because you need it and your life would be on the line if you lost it.

You checked the left pocket and nothing was there until you felt something soft inside Ransom’s right pocket. It felt like a material made of lace. You took it out and then… The garment that you had in your hand felt like a slap on the face.

Whose fucking red underwear is this?

You immediately woke Ransom up and he was confused as hell. Why the fuck were you suddenly going apeshit at nearly 3 AM? His drowsy state fought hard to adjust his vision to the lighting in the room.

“What the hell y/n?”

“Care to explain this?” You shoved the red lace underwear onto his face.

His eyelids instantly dilated. Oh shit, he’s been caught.

“Whose fucking panties is this, Ransom? Did you fuck a bitch in London?”

Instead of giving you the answer you already knew, he only stalled by saying “baby, calm down, alright? Let me explain.”

But he didn’t need to. The look of trepidation on his face pretty much gives everything away. “You. Fucking. Cheater. Get the fuck out of my house.”

“Shh! Just give me a second to explain, okay?”

“I don’t wanna hear anything that comes out of your mouth. Now get the fuck out of my house! Out! Now!” He was still naked but you couldn’t care less. You grabbed all of his clothes that were scattered on the floor and his coat and threw them along with the alibi of his misconduct at him. You pushed him out of your bedroom door until you both reached the front door of your house. He was still trying to make you stop and listen to him but you didn’t give him a chance.

He stood on your porch naked and hurriedly put on his clothes. It was a private residence so he didn’t have to worry about the neighbours seeing him naked. Not that he cared anyway, but still, the embarrassment of being thrown out while he was still nude was what he dreaded.

The next day, he tried to call you for God knows how many times and left you hundreds of text messages. He tried visiting you the next day but you refused to let him in. You asked your security guard to block him from entering the house. You told your parents what happened and your overprotective father was enraged.

He even went as far as facing Ransom himself at the gate to warn him that if he ever came anywhere near you again, your father wouldn’t hesitate in hiring a private bodyguard for you to keep him away from you. Well, with your rising fame and success, you figured you eventually were going to need one anyway, but now that you had an unrelenting cheater in your ledger, he might need to hire a highly trained one for you sooner.

You dumped him officially on a phone call and before you ended it, the last thing that he said to you was “without me, all you’ll find is heartbreak and misery.” He gritted through his teeth.

“Goodbye, Ransom.” Then you pressed the end the call button and blocked his number. You changed yours and then a few days after New Year, you fled back to New York. Your company was waiting for you.

For the next several months you kept yourself occupied with your work. You were thrilled for the launching of your new eyeshadow palette. The stress accelerated to a much level higher that you didn’t even have a second to think about Ransom. You hadn’t heard from him for a while and you certainly liked to keep it that way. There’s no room for a cheating, lying, lazy scumbag in your life.

A part of you couldn't help but feel grateful that you broke up with him before the clutter in your work increased. You weren’t sure that you were capable of maintaining a relationship with someone that you don’t near to. You would’ve had to make time to see him and it would’ve been a major distraction.

You held a party to celebrate the launch of your new eyeshadow palette, to say you were nervous would be an understatement, there was nothing more that you feared than failure. Despite being fortunate enough to be born into a wealthy family, you still spent years saving up money and studying hard in college to major in dual degree; business and cosmetology to construct your dream makeup line.

And now, for the first time, the eyeshadow palette that you had been tirelessly crafted to perfection, is going to be available for purchase on your website. The countdown shows there’s only two minutes and thirty seconds left until every makeup enthusiast gets to put it on their shopping cart.

You were holding a glass of rose champagne in your hand whilst giving a speech to the team that you loved so dearly because they were your second family. You didn’t see them as the people who “work for you” but rather, you saw them as equals; your partners and your biggest supporters. Without them, this entire makeup line wouldn’t be standing so tall.

What you didn’t realize was, through the glass-structured building, Ransom was watching you like a hawk. He had his hands in his pocket and he had his gaze fixated on one person only and it was you. Despite the distance and the crowd, his focus didn’t bend.

The past few months for Ransom had been filled with acrimony by his wounded ego caused by being dumped. He couldn’t get anywhere near you due to your heavily guarded apartment building. You even had your own bodyguard now. Great. He was taller and bulkier than Ransom and he wasn’t foolish enough to try to fight the big guy.

You also ordered every security guard in your office, which is the headquarter for your makeup company, that if Ransom ever dared to show his face, they must get rid of him immediately. The only way Ransom could get to you is by stalking you on social media through your company’s official Instagram account and your rising personal account too.

He really thought that it would only take a month before you come crawling back to him. Ransom was so used to getting his way that he strongly condemned being rejected. He would do whatever it takes to have you back.

Whatever it takes.

He had everything prepared meticulously for months. He waited for the right moment to execute the plan and then you would never be able to escape him ever again.

What he didn’t see coming was you going on a date and laughing with a man he didn’t recognize. He really thought that you wouldn’t be dating again for at least a year but he clearly he was mistaken. He thought you secretly missed him but you had too much pride to admit it. He also thought that you could’ve done better than that.

Who the hell does this guy think he is swooping in on his girl like that? His jealousy whispered wicked things into his ears like a red-horned devil. He had waited in his car in front of your apartment building thirty minutes before you left. He found a way to bug your phone without your knowledge and from there, he could monitor every single text, every single phone call and every single person you associate with.

He did a background check on this bloke who was a few years younger than him, making him someone your age. The result showed that he had gone to the same university as you and now he had his own publishing company located in New York as well.

This fella named William had the same distinctive features as Ransom; a brunet with blue eyes, which means, you probably had a type. “So fucking predictable.” He thought whilst he was scrolling through this stranger’s biography. The man was just as tall as him. He posed in a dark grey suit with a tie that synchronizes with the look for the camera.

Apparently, you had run into him at one of the finest restaurants in town when you were having dinner with your girlfriends. He had come up to you to make sure that it was you. You two chatted, catching up on things and he charmed you by asking the one thing you were most passionate about which was your cosmetic line. You exchanged numbers and after talking for a few weeks, he asked you out and you said accepted.

You truly didn’t do anything halfway. When you were going out, whether it be with your friends, for a party or on a date with some guy you used to go to college with, you were dressed to the nines. You looked so crushingly stunning, your beauty dazzled him like daylight. He couldn’t blame this fella though, there’s a reason why he asked you on a date first before this schmuck inserted himself between the two of you. He had to have you and once he got you, he blew his chance. He lost you.

Not for long though. You belonged to him and only him.

You walked into the restaurant as the jazz music serenaded your ears. You asked the receptionist looking for someone named “William” and she led you to a table in the centre of the room, with a good-looking man sitting there in his raven suit.

You greeted William and then made your order when the server came with the menu. You ordered a bottle of Champagne, and you were truly enjoying the company of this man. He was courteous, smart and a little shy for someone as smart and as successful as him. Maybe it’s time to get yourself back in the dating game.

Not all men are Ransom Drysdale.

Ransom couldn’t stand seeing you laughing at his jokes and touching his hand. He didn’t have it in him to wait for another second to let you roam in your freedom without being his. He was going to do it tonight, but he had to do it before you reach your apartment where your personal bodyguard would be guarding you like a fort.

So he went to the parking lot two blocks north of the restaurant. There was nobody there so he had to act fast before someone came. He used a screwdriver to unlock the door of your car and once he succeeded, he sat in the backseat and obscured himself within the absence of light.

Now all he had to do was wait…

The date was lovely but it was time to go home. As much as you loved dressing up in your Lobouton heels and flaunting your beauty downtown, the thought of your warm bed and cozy pyjamas make your heart flutter. You didn’t know if there will be a second date or not, and even if he asked, you weren’t sure whether you’d say yes or no this time, but it was nice to catch up with fellow alumni.

You walked to where your car was parked and unlocked the driver’s seat car and sat behind the wheel. You revived the engine by pushing the ignition starter and adjusted the rearview mirror but what reflected on the glass made your heart drop like a beat.

“…Ransom? What the hell are you-”

But before you could finish your vexed question, Ransom pressed a drugged handkerchief onto your nose and despite your attempt to fight him, his strength overpowered you. Then in a matter of seconds, everything turned black.

You woke up with a sore head as you slowly felt your visions turning pellucid, it took you a few seconds to realize that the dress you wore had been stripped away from you. Your undergarments were also no longer covering your bare body from the cold… What the hell?

You began to realize that you were currently in a cramped, dimmed room with a single pillowless bed in the centre. There were many other sex toys that you were familiar with, you even had some in your drawer, and there were also a few other contraptions in the room that looked like they belong in a sex dungeon.

When you tried to move, only then your brain began to discern the state you were imprisoned in. You couldn’t move and you couldn’t pull your limbs away for they were secured with a device that you couldn’t see due to the position you were in.

Your cheek was pressed on the futon mattress and when you tried to scream, you couldn’t form any words for there was a ball gag in between your lips. You tried to scream but that only made you drool even more, making a tiny pool on the leather material.

You squealed, trying to get any help from anyone out there who might listen but then you heard the sound of the creaking door opening and someone entered the room. You tried to give them a single to set you free by making incoherent noises.

But all you heard was; “well, well, well, look what we have here.”

That voice. That voice sounds familiar. Your mind tried to distinguish it, and then you realized… It was Ransom. You remember it now, you walked into your car after a date with William, you saw him in the backseat through the rearview mirror and then you couldn’t recall anything else that happened after that.

And now here you were, bound by a percontator, exposed and helpless in a strange, unknown place. You began to thrash your body but it was futile, the device really did an excellent job in keeping you immobile.

“Hush now, dirty whore. You really think you could escape me forever? You must be dumber than I took you for.”

You heard the sound of unbuckling belt then he took off his shirt behind you. “No amount of protection can keep you away from me. I’ll make sure of that.”

He stepped into the mattress and lowered himself to his knees. He didn’t wast any second in placing the tip of his cock near your entrance then he intruded your body with his length. He grabbed a fistful of your hair and kept your head there in place. He spanked your right ass before he began moving.

“Ah,” he groaned. “I’ve always loved this pussy. Always so fucking tight.” He accelerated his pace and he grabbed your hair, forcing you to look up at him through your tearful eyes. “Is this what you want? To be fucked like a bitch? ‘Cause I will, whenever I fucking want to.” He gritted through his pounding.

You could only moan and cry. Your mind took you back to the last Christmas eve when you caught him cheating. “Did you fuck a bitch in London?” He was deriding you by weaponizing your own words against you.

He put your head back on the mattress and kept thrusting brutally. He spanked you once more and you shrieked. He loved the sound of your agony so he did it five times more until your ass was as red as he liked. “Fucking slut. Aren’t you better like this? Not talking, no CEO bullshit.” He stopped his thrusting and pulled your hair back once more to glare into your eyes. “I’m gonna have so much fun breaking you piece by piece until you’re nothing but a brainless fuck toy for me to use.”

He slammed your face back down to the mattress and resumed his violation on your body. He kept pounding until there was no more energy left in you to fight. He then threw your body around so you were lying on your back.

He inserted himself back into you and picked up his vigorous pace. Your breasts jiggled with every assault. “Missed those perky tits.” His hands shamelessly groped your breasts and held on to them like they were knobs.

His right hand went from your breast to your throat, encircling the fingers around the delicate flesh. Your breathing becomes difficult and you felt yourself seconds away from passing out but before it could happen, you felt the tightening coil in your lower belly that was familiar with Ransom. And the expanding bubble burst, making a soaked mess on the leather underneath you and all over Ransom’s cock.

“There you go, what a fucking mess.” He smirked. “Last time I fucked this cunt, I don’t remember you getting off this soon, baby.” His hands went back to your knees as he chased his own orgasm. And in a matter of seconds, he released his cum deep inside your womb, staying there until he had no more drop left to give.

He withdrew himself out and then he stepped out of the mattress. He put back his sweater and jeans and before he left. He sneered at your disarranged state, complacent with the mess he made you of. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Be good or there will be punishments worse than you just had, understood?” He didn’t wait for your answer before kissing your upper lip.

He disappeared behind the door, leaving you in the tenebrosity of the room as you languidly losing yourself into unconsciousness.

[madsthewordclown]

Fire Lily | Pt. 12

warnings: none

a/n: Sorry this took me this long, guys! I’m back in school and am a little bit busier now, but I promise I’ll update as much as I can! Be warned that I did write a portion of this chapter with Can We Sing the Darkness to Light in my brain (it’s a choral piece and I’m a nerd lol) and so I probably found some of what I wrote a lot more emotionally compelling than it is due to my fragile state of mind when I hear a good tenor part. Whoops.

This chapter takes place during “The Headband.” The story kind of stalls for a bit here in the aftermath of Crossroads of Destiny, so I’m sorry about that, but I promise I’ve got some more exciting things planned for later!

Fire Lily Masterlist

The Fire Nation was weird. It was a thought that Y/N couldn’t get out of her head. Everywhere Y/N had been in the Earth Kingdom (besides Ba Sing Se, which was strange and creepy within its own right), had had the shadow of war looming over it constantly. Here, it was like it didn’t exist.

There was no fear in the Fire Nation, not like there was in the Earth Kingdom, and nothing like what Katara and Sokka had described about the Southern Water Tribe. Here, they weren’t constantly on alert. They could relax. Somehow, the Fire Nation had always been on the offensive. These people didn’t know what it was like, hearing about armies creeping closer to your home.

It was also strange to think about how Zuko lived there. The Fire Nation was his home. Y/N was letting herself think about Zuko now, every once in a while. She let herself think about Jet, too. She thought of him every time she picked up her swords to spar with Sokka. She thought of him every time she lit their fire at night.

They were staying in a cave outside of the village, and it gave Y/N the heebie-jeebies. She didn’t like how dark and damp it was, and it made her feel trapped. Toph felt right at home, surrounded on all sides by earth. Meanwhile, Sokka couldn’t get past the threat of “enemy birds.”

“They’re Fire Nation birds, guys,” Sokka insisted, waving his arms frantically to deter the birds in question.

“They’re birds, Sokka,” Katara corrected, rolling her eyes.

“So, this is how it’s going to be until the invasion.” Sokka looked around at their surroundings—the cave, some rocks, grass.

“Hiding in cave after cave after cave…” Y/N shuddered, glaring at the mouth of the cave.

“We don’t need to be cave people,” Katara said, putting a reassuring hand on Y/N’s shoulder. “What we need is some new clothes.”

“Yeah,” Aang agreed, “blending in is better than hiding out. We’ll be safer with Fire Nation disguises.”

As much as Y/N hated wearing Fire Nation clothes, she hated constant cave-living more. “I like that plan.”

“We don’t want to sit around and eat cave hoppers,” Toph said, hitting the cave wall. A few of the bugs came tumbling onto the ground, and Momo scooped one up and ate it with a chomp. Y/N winced. “They have much better food out there.”

“Well, where are we going to get clothes?” Sokka questioned, crossing his arms. “We don’t have nearly enough money.”

Y/N thought for a moment. “We could just steal some. I thought I saw some clotheslines when we flew in.”

The others stared at her for a moment.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures?” Y/N added, uncertainly. Yes, they were the “good guys,” but they also needed clothes, and no one had any better ideas.

“Okay,” Katara agreed quickly. “Let’s go.”

---

As it turned out, stealing had been very fun. Y/N wondered briefly if that made her a bad person, but she had managed to find a ribbon for her hair, and the feeling of having it away from her face made her question her morals a lot less.

Y/N did try her best to find something that wasn’t red, to no avail. Soon, they were all clad in their Fire Nation getup. It felt a lot better than the soldier’s uniform, but Y/N still wasn’t sold on the red. Sokka and Aang seemed to be enjoying themselves, though, and Aang seemed a lot less upset about covering up his arrow.

Y/N was very unsure about the sleeveless red top and dark grey pants that she was left with. But it was definitely better than her tattered dress, and the ensemble was easier to move in. She liked how her arms were completely free, and the long pants made the grass let scratchy.

Katara and Toph looked great in their outfits, although Katara did seem upset about having to remove her necklace, and Toph had already punched the soles out of her new shoes. They made the unanimous decision to go into town and get some shopping done with the money they had left.

“Here.” Y/N took her own money out of her bag, as well as the gold cup with her family crest. “We can all use this. I don’t really need it anymore.”

It was time to let go of the cup. It would be useful to them, at least. And there were plenty more heirlooms in her family. And now, standing side by side with the Avatar, two of the most powerful benders in the world, and Sokka, in his genius, Y/N felt more confident than ever that maybe she’d be able to make it back home. Her father could forgive her for getting rid of the cup. Her mother thought it was ugly, anyway.

“Are you sure?” Aang asked with some concern. Y/N nodded.

“It’ll be more useful to us if we trade it,” Y/N insisted. Besides, the cup was just another reminder of Ba Sing Se.

“Wait.” Katara stopped Y/N as the others turned to leave. “Your hair. The ponytail is too low. The Fire Nation has them higher.”

“Oh.” Y/N didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of it. She pulled the deep red ribbon out of her hair.

“Here, let me help,” Katara said, pulling the ribbon from Y/N’s hands. Y/N was tall, so she had to crouch a bit, allowing Katara to secure her hair into a ponytail that sat towards the crown of her head.

“Better,” Katara hummed approvingly. She took Y/N’s hand. “Now let’s go.”

The village they were in was vibrant and peaceful, Y/N noticed. There were plenty of people around, and Y/N hadn’t seen any soldiers yet. The group decided it was safe to split up if they wanted to. Y/N followed Toph and Katara to a jewelry booth.

Y/N helped Katara pick out a new necklace, and Toph donned a small crown. Y/N was a bit surprised—Toph didn’t seem like the type to appreciate jewelry. Y/N bought a set of matching gold bangles to put on her wrists.

“You know,” Katara suggested as she secured the necklace around her throat, “we could get you something for your swords. I know Jet had something like that.” Katara’s voice caught on Jet’s name for just a moment before recovering.

It would very useful, Y/N knew. She could always bend, but she felt like Katara could tell she had mixed feelings about it. Plus, she knew more about wielding the swords than proper firebending.

After a lot of scouring, Toph managed to locate a store for weaponry. Y/N asked the shopkeeper for advice on what to look for. He had seemed confused for a moment, and Y/N remembered that hook swords probably weren’t a common choice here—she had read once in her library that they were a traditional weapon from the northern Earth Kingdom. But luckily, the shopkeeper hadn’t asked any questions and directed her to the right area.

Y/N ended up settling on a belt-like sheath, with two loops at her hips that the hooked points of the sword easily fit through, but it would get stuck at the handle, holding the swords securely but still allowing for Y/N to pull them out without much trouble.

“Six gold pieces,” the shopkeeper said in an unnecessarily loud voice. Y/N frowned. They only had a few silver pieces and the cup left, and Sokka and Aang had the rest of the money. Y/N pulled the cup out of her bag and set it on the counter.

“I’ll trade this for it.” The shopkeeper’s eyes widened.

“Where did you get that?” He asked, eyeing the piece. It looked as if he thought it was fake; he picked it up and tapped it on the counter a few times.

“I’m from the colonies,” Y/N said. It wasn’t a complete lie. Technically, she was. The man gave her a brief look of disgust.

“It’s worth more than what you’re asking,” Y/N pressed, tapping a beat on the counter impatiently. She hoped he wouldn’t ask more questions or say anything about what his sour face was for.

“Deal,” the man said finally, taking the cup and stashing it behind the counter. Y/N felt surprisingly little as she watched it disappear from sight, and any wisps of sadness were expunged when she secured the belt around her waist.

Y/N walked back with Katara and Toph to their cave hideout. Sokka was already waiting, but Aang was nowhere to be found.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Y/N reassured. “There aren’t very many soldiers in this village, and his tattoos are covered.”

“Yeah, Twinkle Toes can handle himself,” Toph agreed, plopping down onto the grass.

“Hey, Y/N?” Sokka called, waving his arm. “Want to look over some of these plans with me?”

Before Y/N could respond, Katara was speaking. “You never ask me to help you with that stuff.”

“Hey,” Sokka protested. “You and Aang and Toph handle the bending, and Y/N and I will handle the plans. No offense, Y/N.”

“None taken.” Y/N knew her bending was almost useless—she could light their fire at night, but other than that she only knew a few basic moves. In a true bending fight, she was done for.

Y/N walked over to join Sokka, sitting on the grass in front of a rock that he was using as a makeshift table. Y/N was a bender, sure, but it was nice to have a non-bender around. Y/N wasn’t comfortable with her bending like the others, who were all masters of their own elements when she had never even had a formal teacher.

“I tried looking into that boiling rock you were talking about a bit more,” Sokka explained, spreading a map across the rock that he hadn’t shown her before. It was an older map of the Fire Nation—Y/N wasn’t sure where he got it.

“I couldn’t come up with much, but my guess is somewhere like that would probably be in one of the more volcanic regions of the Fire Nation.”

“But why would my brother be in the Fire Nation?” Y/N wondered aloud.

“What?” Sokka looked at her in confusion, an eyebrow raised. “You’re looking for your brother?”

“Um…” Y/N hummed awkwardly. “Yeah. He was arrested by the Fire Nation before I left home. I had a weird dream a few days ago, and he said something about a boiling rock.” She could tell Sokka was looking at her sympathetically, although she made a point to focus her eyes on the map.

“I know it’s a long shot,” Y/N acknowledged, “but I thought I’d at least try.”

“No, I totally get it,” Sokka shrugged. “You want him to be safe. I get that. He’s your brother.”

“I feel like it’s my fault,” Y/N admitted. “I didn’t help him. I actually made the situation worse.” Y/N gave a dry laugh. “I don’t know if he’d want to see me.”

“Of course he wants to see you.” Sokka looked affronted. “He’s your brother, and you’re supposed to take care of each other.”

“Yes,” Y/N groaned, “but I didn’t!”

“He’s your older brother, right?” Sokka clarified, his head echoing your nod in response.

“Well,” Sokka paused, as if searching for the right words, “as an older brother, I’m sure he wants to see you. And Y/N, I know it’s hard when you want to protect someone, and you fail.” Sokka’s eyes were filled with a sadness that made Y/N want to reach out and hug him, but she held off.

“But that doesn’t mean that that person is going to be angry at you,” Sokka continued carefully. Y/N felt like he was reassuring himself as much as he was her. “And even if you fail, you can keep doing everything you can to protect the people you care about. And I’m sure that he wants to do the same for you.”

“Thanks, Sokka,” Y/N said softly, her eyes beginning to water. Before she could back away, Sokka was pulling her into a hug.

Y/N hugged him back. She realized she hadn’t hugged anyone since… well, before she left home. They stayed there for a moment, before Sokka pulled away.

“Ready to review my schedule?” Sokka asked, suddenly upbeat. He unrolled a scroll that spread all the way across the rock and down onto the grass.

“Oh my…” The entire thing was color-coded. Y/N wondered where he got the ink for that. “Hand me a pen.”

Sokka smiled as they went to work.

---

Aang returned to camp later in the afternoon and was properly lectured by Katara. Sokka was completely appalled.

“You’re enrolled in Fire Nation school?” Sokka asked for the tenth time. Aang’s answer didn’t change.

“Yes. And we learn about the secret river tomorrow!” Aang reminded them. The secret river was the only thing getting Sokka to moderately accept the idea. Y/N thought Sokka was too easily persuaded by weird sneak-attack opportunities. “But I can’t go back unless I bring my parents to meet with the headmaster right now.”

“Y/N can be a pretty convincing actress,” Toph suggested. “Not for me, since I can tell when you’re lying, but others seem pretty convinced.”

“Sokka, Y/N,” Aang pleaded, “will you pretend to be my parents?”

“Sure,” Y/N agreed. If Aang really wanted to go to this school, she would help. She remembered how much she wished she could go to school. While it was still far from a normal experience… Aang deserved to have some fun like a regular kid.

“I don’t know,” Sokka murmured, looking contemplative.

“Secret river, Sokka!”

“Fine,” Sokka gave in. “But first we need to get our disguises!”

“Disguises?” Y/N echoed, but Sokka was already running off, Aang following enthusiastically behind him.

When Sokka and Aang returned, Y/N almost died from laughter. The beard plastered to Sokka’s face was ridiculous. She had no clue where he got it.

“Y/N, make your hair look more mature and put this in your shirt,” Sokka ordered, holding out a bundle of cloth fashioned into a smooth round shape. It looked like a bag stuff with wool.

“What?”

Sokka sighed exasperatedly. “Do you want to be convincing or not?”

“Fine.”

Y/N felt ridiculous and was pretty sure she looked almost as ridiculous as Sokka as Aang led them into the school building. Y/N noticed how everything inside seemed a little bit short, and portraits of Fire Lord Ozai hung on the walls, Fire Nation insignias everywhere. Y/N had never seen the Fire Lord’s face before until Aang had brought back his macaroni portrait.

Zuko didn’t look like him, Y/N noticed. Ozai’s face was sharp—Zuko’s was kinder. But Y/N found herself imagining Zuko on that poster, with his shaggy hair and scar, and that look on his face when he fired at the Avatar.

Y/N took a seat with Sokka and Aang as they entered the headmaster’s office. The headmaster was a severe-looking man with the same beard, sideburns, and thin mustache that all of the Fire Nation men Y/N had met seemed to have. He greeted them as they took their seats.

“Thank you for coming, Mr. and Mrs…”

“Fire,” Sokka replied haughtily. His accent was atrocious. “Wang Fire.” Y/N held back a snort.

“And this is my wife,” Sokka gestured to Y/N, “Sapphire.”

It took everything in Y/N’s power to not roll her eyes. “Sapphire Fire. Nice to meet you.”

“Well, Mr. and Mrs.,” the headmaster paused, “Fire. Your son has been enrolled here for two days and is already causing problems. He’s argued with his history teacher, disrupted music class, and roughed up my star pupil.”

“That doesn’t sound like our Kuzon!” Y/N said, giving Aang a discrete bump of her elbow when he smiled.

“That’s what any mother would say, ma’am,” the headmaster responded. “Nonetheless, you’re forewarned. If we continue to have problems, I’ll have to send him to reform school.”

“Reform school?” Y/N asked.

“By that, I mean the coal mines.” The headmaster stood, glaring down at them.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Headmaster,” Sokka said. Y/N wanted to facepalm. “I’ll straighten this boy out something fierce!” Sokka turned to Aang. “Young man, when we get home, you’re in for the punishment of a lifetime!”

The headmaster seemed rather satisfied with that response, nodding with a slight smirk.

“Thank you for informing us of our son’s behavior,” Y/N told him, trying to sound professional to make up for Sokka’s over-the-top character. “Goodbye.”

“Success!” Sokka cheered as soon as they were out of earshot. Y/N punched his arm.

“Wang Fire?” Y/N questioned incredulously.

“What? It’s a good name!” Sokka whined, rubbing the spot on his arm.

“Sapphire Fire?” Aang added with a smirk.

“Okay, so maybe that one wasn’t my best,” Sokka admitted, stroking his beard.

“Will you please get rid of that thing?” Y/N already didn’t like how much Sokka was enjoying his fake facial hair.

“Never,” Sokka replied with a smile.

Fire Lily Masterlist

taglist: @kaylove12, @akariblue, @wolfiemichele, @aquatickanye, @sunflowerr-mami, @nadiblue. @la3divine, @sarsky, @aangsupremacy 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Maybe a Blackwood drabble involving a distant cousin, down on her luck, thinking she struck gold moving in with dear cousin Charles... until things take a dark turn? (They don't have time really be cousins of course.)

(I made her an old friend because the cousin thing doesn’t really vibe for me but I hope you like it)

+

Dark drabble request for Charles Blackwood! Reader is an old friend of Charles that he's obsessed with. Non-con breeding kink if possible?

What Could Be

Warnings: noncon, manipulation, yearning

Charles was always nice. Well, to you. Most people told you over and over what an asshole he was but he was always good to you. Ever since you were teens and he was scamming cards down in the alley. He always had your back and despite his reputation, you had his.

It had been a while though since you last saw him. Almost ten years. You'd got engaged to Jimmy and Charles left town just before the wedding. He said he had no choice but to miss it, he had an inheritance he needed to claim before it expired. But he never returned.

Then you and Jimmy divorced. Your mother wouldn't house you after the divorce and most felt similar about boarding single women. So you stayed with the widow Doreen Aldine and worked at the flower shop.

Six months and fourteen days after the separation, the last face you expected to see walked in. You wanted to hide but you were the only one left in the shop. You closed at 4:30 and it was already quarter after.

Charles wasted no time. He wasn't that type. He neared the counter and admired the orchid on the corner. You watched him nervously. Had he forgot you?

He smiled and assured you otherwise.

"You still like daffodils?" he asked as he rested a hand on the counter.

You tried not to smile back. "Charlie." You were the only one who called him that. "You must have made it in time. That's a nice suit."

"Did I?"

"You didn't come back. Why would you?" You said. "Leaving this town..."

"How's Jimmy?" He asked.

You blinked and tilted your head. You laughed.

"Engaged to someone else. Already." You answered. "We divorced just before Christmas."

Charles frowned and dropped his hand from the counter.

"Oh... You alright?" He touched the thick orchid stem. "I can't imagine old Missy Helen has changed. She always was a vicious gossip."

"Her and her daughters," You shook your head. "I live with the widow Aldine."

"Lee died?" He asked. You nodded.

"I work here." You shrugged. "Ma won't... How are you, Charlie?"

 He considered you and sighed.

"Good. I got a place upstate." He checked his watch. "You got time to cut a bouquet?"

"If that's what you need." You said.

”A dozen of those roses,” He pointed to the expensive pale pink ones. 

You nodded and went to your work. He counted out a pile of bills and you gave him his change. He took the flowers and smelled them. He looked over them at you and tipped them towards you.

"I know you prefer daffodils," He said. "But you deserve the best."

"Charlie," You laughed.

"I'm sorry about the divorce." He said. 

"Not your fault." You stared at the bouquet. "I'll figure it out."

He waited but you didn't take the flowers. Couldn't.

"Come upstate with me" He said. 

"Charlie--"

"Just a visit. See the city, see outside this damn place." He waved the flowers closer. "I'm only here for the night. My uncle needs bail."

"Tomorrow?" You asked.

"At noon." He said and pushed the flowers against your hand. "If you don't come, just look at the flowers and think of me."

You took the bouquet at last and his lips went crooked. He knew he'd won, like he always did.

"You still running dice?" You asked.

"Mmm, no," He hummed. "But I still play the odds."

<3

You told Doreen you’d be back. You told her you’d write to let her know. You realised as you packed your valise that Charles hadn’t given many details. Yet that didn’t deter you. That you could not stop thinking of his offer drove you to give a notice of absence at the flower shop the next morning and mull over which scarf to wrap your hair in.

Was Charles still the boy he had been? Had he meant it?

For a moment, you worried that one of his mean tricks would turn on you. That it was finally your turn to find out why Charles Blackwood had earned the loathing of so many in town. Why he had left and never come back. Well, not until yesterday.

You left the vase of roses with Doreen and the cheque for your room. You would still need it when you came back. Or if you didn’t leave at all. As you walked down to meet Charles by the square, you were certain you’d be waiting for nothing. But he was there in a red sports car with an open top. He stomped out his cigarette as he stood straight and smiled at you.

“You look as if you’re running from someone,” He said as he took your valise.

“Only myself,” You replied.

He placed your bag in the small trunk and opened your door for you. He wasted little time as he got in the driver’s seat and turned the ignition. His hand clutched the stick and you stopped him before he could pull away.

“Why now, Charles? Why did you come back?”

“My uncle…”

“But--”

“Good timing,” He turned his hand and squeezed yours. “For once.”

You drew away and he shifted into gear. The edge of your scarf fluttered as the wind barreled around you. You watched the old town fade away in the side mirror then peeked over at Charles. His smile was gone and his face was tense in thought. You knew that look; it was the one he got before he had stuck Mr. O’Neil’s ladder to the wall with tar but now, you suspected he was up to something much more sinister.

<3

Charles’ house was bigger than any you could have imagined. The winding driveway and the towering gate. Had his inheritance really been so prosperous? You were in awe as he led you up the curved front steps, his arm under yours. Your ride had been long but smooth. You only spoke now and then, little reminiscent remarks.

He stopped at the front door and pulled a long key from his pocket as he parted from you. You clasped your valise in your fingers as he pushed the doors open and revealed a spacious foyer of polished marble and newly-laid wood. You stepped inside as his hand went to the small of your back and the door clicked as your heel echoed it in a sudden halt.

You stared at yourself. A likeness which was much forgiving of your true appearance. The paint was finely laid to reflect your former youth. The girl Charles had known all those years ago. The girl long gone. The portrait was startling as it reigned between the curved staircases. You turned to Charles and his hands clutched your arms tightly as he held you in place.

You dropped your valise in shock as he loomed over you. You trembled as his oceanic eyes were dark and stormy. You squirmed as his hot breath enshrined you.

“Charlie…”

“I waited so long.” He said. “I counted the days. I hustled, I lied, I cheated, to get all this.” He squeezed your arms as you tried to push him away. “For you. It’s all for you.”

“You’re scaring me, Charlie.” You gasped.

“I wasn’t going to wait forever. I wasn’t even waiting for you to get rid of Jimmy. I just needed it to be right. And it is, now.” He leaned in and rubbed his nose against yours. “Everything is perfect now that you’re here.”

“No,” You breathed and he took a step forward and forced you back. Another and another, until you were against the wall. “Charlie, I thought--”

“You thought I’d wait forever,” His hand left your arm and went to your throat, his lips hovered before yours. “Why him? Why did you never want me?”

“We’re friends, Charlie, I never thought-- I never wanted to ruin--”

“Don’t give me that,” He snarled and crushed his lips against yours.

You slapped his chest as he leaned into. His other hand crawled down your arm and gripped your waist. His fingertips dug into your side through the silk of your dress. He held your jaw as he devoured you and began to bundle the fabric over your thighs. You tried to pull it back down but his hand was between your legs in an instant.

He drew his lips from yours as he moved his knee between your legs. He pressed his hand roughly to the front of your panties and growled. You clawed at the lapels of his jacket and whimpered.

“Why--”

He interrupted you with another kiss. This one sloppy. You squeaked in surprise and his hand slithered down your chest, groping you hungrily before descending further. He snaked both arms around you and kneaded your ass. He lifted you suddenly and you tore your lips from his, hitting your head against the wall.

He balanced you between him and the wall, one hand gripped your right thigh as his other tugged at your garters. You beat against his shoulders but he barely noticed. He dragged his fingers over the satin along your crotch and picked at the edge. He teased you with two fingers before he turned his hand and stepped even closer.

He struggled with his belt and grunted in frustration. You wriggled desperately, grasping at him and the wall for anyway out. He only leaned against your heavier as he fumbled with one hand between you. 

“Please,” You begged. “Charlie--”

He kissed you once more. He bit your lip harshly then forced his tongue in your mouth. You felt his hand moving and smooth flesh tickle along your thigh. He guided his tip up your leg and hooked his finger under your panties. He pushed the satin aside with the head of his cock and you squeezed him between your legs, trying to shut him out.

He grabbed the back of your head and parted from your lips. The scarf crumpled in his hand and choked you as it slid down around your neck. You stared into his eyes fearfully and he thrust. One single, painful thrust that filled you entirely. 

Your lips formed an O and his eyes flared. He did it again, this time you let out a whine and he twisted the scarf so that it choked you even tighter. You beat on his shoulder as your pleas were trapped in your throat.

“Look at you,” He tilted his hips again, harder. “Look at this place.” He moved in tandem with his words. He leaned in until his lips were against your cheek, his spit smeared across your skin. “Big enough for us.” He sped up. “For our family.”

“Char--” The scarf tightened and your voice fizzled.

“You don’t have to-- thank-- me,” He rutted as he jostled your body against the wall. “I-- love-- you.”

[sylvie-writes]

here’s what i’m thinking. it’s the 1940’s. y/n is on her first date w the lovely steve rogers. it’s lots of shy giggly fluff. syd, my fabulous companion, can you write something along the lines of this and i’ll swim across the atlantic to shower you and mags in kisses. love u xx

First Date Jitters

“Becs, what if he doesn’t like me. What if I annoy him?”

Bothered, you laid your arms on the vanity and groaned, annoyed by the mere thought of ruining this first date. Steve Rogers seemed like a dreamboat and the minute he asked you out on a date, your eyes formed hearts and you were floating on cloud nine. 

“Honey, he asked you out on a date, didn’t he?

“Yeah, but y’all pushed him! Maybe he felt pity for me and-”

Tired of your rambling, Rebecca ran the brush through your hair a bit too harsh for your liking.

“Geez! What was that for, Barnes?”

She smirked and went back to brushing your hair, returning to gentle strokes from before. 

“To shut ya mouth full of lies.” Her strong New York accent came through and you giggled. When Rebecca spoke with a said accent, she meant business and was going to get her point through regardless if you listened or not.

Eventually, you zipped your mouth, letting Becca work her magic with your hair and makeup. As she did so, your mind drifted off to the first time you had met Steve.

“Pleaseeeeee, Bucky’s bringing a friend for dinner. Don’t leave me in a room full of testosterone.”

Becca was down on her knees, clasping the hem of your dress. Currently, you were standing in the middle of a busy sidewalk, people passing and shooting funny glares. Embarrassed, you pulled at her arms, but to no avail, she wouldn't budge from her spot on the cement.

“Rebecca Barnes, get off the ground! You look like a fool!” 

“Not till you say, yes. You know how many dinners you’ve turned down?”

Groaning, you agreed to go just this once. The last time you went to dinner, you made a complete fool of yourself, even though Rebecca said otherwise. Bucky’s naturally flirtatious nature and secretive winks made you read into the situation a bit too much. From then on you vowed to never show up at a dinner of theirs. You’d known Rebecca for almost five years, yet you still couldn’t forgive yourself for that first night. 

“You know why I always refuse, Becca.”

She linked her arm in yours, now off the ground and ready to walk around town some more.

“I know, but Bucky does that to every friend I’ve brought home. Don’t worry, the other girls did way worse than you. In the end, Bucky just likes to hook, line, and sink em kind of thing.”

Rebecca laughed, punctuating her sentence, and at her words of assurance, you felt a bit relieved. 

That night you knocked on the door, and within seconds it flew open. Rebecca, flour covered hands, held out her arms for an awkward hug. 

“You didn’t chicken out this time!”

You gave her a set of squinted eyes and she lightly giggled, waltzing back to the kitchen. Just as you were about to follow, a certain someone stopped you. Blocking the doorway, a young man you had been trying to avoid stood before your much smaller figure.

“Hey! You showed up this time, angel! Sorry I know I kind of scared you off last time. I’m sure Becs has given you her opinion on me.”

Bucky scratched at the back of his neck, shyly looking into your eyes.

“No hard feelings, Buck.”

You gave the man a tight lipped smile and started to maneuver past him, when his arms reached out for your waist.

“Becca told you I brought a friend, right?”

Confused, you cautiously nodded.

“Well, I want you to meet him. Hey Punk! Get out here!”

Suddenly, a man, no smaller than yourself rounded the corner and smiled bashfully at you.

“Hi ma’am, name’s Steve Rogers.”

The man, Steve, held out a hand for you to shake, which you did. All of a sudden, you two started talking and before you knew it, Bucky had left to go tell Rebecca their plan had worked. As implied, dinner ended with Steve asking you out. 

“Hellooooo, any one home in there?”

Rebecca playfully tapped your head, shaking you from your thoughts.

“Huh?”

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for the past five minutes. Thinking ‘bout Rogers, aren't ya?”

With a timid smile, you nodded, soon standing from the vanity seat and going to change. Your friend had done an amazing job on pinning up your hair and fixing your makeup. You almost felt like a million bucks. To compliment it all, your mother had even found you a little baby pink number. Quickly changing, you stepped out of the closet, twirling in the sea on the pink fabric. Rebecca gasped at the sight and immediately reached for the camera, taking a picture of you, mid laughter. 

Checking your wrist watch, you suddenly heard the doorbell and practically ran for the door with Rebecca who was laughing so hard that she couldn’t keep up.

Swinging open the door a bit too excitedly, you found Steve’s grin dissipating. A bit disappointed with his reaction, you toned down the excitement, hoping he wouldn’t notice your sudden change in demeanor.

“Wow, doll. You look,” The young man swallowed the lump in his throat, “stunning. Absolutely gorgeous!”

At the words, your disappointment morphed into satisfaction, and you stepped out the door, hitching onto Steve’s arm, waving goodbye to your best friend. 

“Don’t keep her out too late, Steven!”

Rebecca’s words followed you both down the hallway, causing some laughter from Steve, who seemed a bit uncomfortable. Worried once more, you decided to pry a bit.

“Is everything ok, Steve?”

He turned to you with wide eyes and shook his head to dispute your many apologies.

“I’m just a bit nervous, it’s not you! It's just that no girl as pretty as you has never gone out with me before.”

Steve’s cheeks turned rosy red, before he looked the other direction, not wanting you to see him like this. In his mind, one wrong move and you’d leave him for another.

Humbled at his comment, you took your free hand and turned his face in your direction. With a big smile, you planted a soft kiss on the corner of his lips, leaving the young man almost breathless.

“Don’t worry about me, Stevie. I’m not going anywhere, except where you take me.” 

Confident by your actions, Steve stood a bit taller and led you out of the apartment building, excited for his first date with you. 

You were tucked into Steve’s side, enjoying a small conversation with him. The two of you were quite the pair, nervously asking the other one a question, trying to get to know each other since this was your first date. They say opposites attract, but that was not the case with you and Steve. So far, he had told you of the endless days he’d spent in the hospital, and a part of you longed for him to be healthy, as that sounded like his one wish. Steve would go on and on about how Bucky had set him up on dates and it normally ended with Bucky having two girls around his arms instead of one. You could see Steve’s self-confidence faltering, so you decided to share your many failed-date stories, eliciting a laugh from the man at the few comedic ones. 

The whole walk, you were so caught up in talking to the man, that the two of you almost passed the first place you were going to stop. Of course, you were clueless as to where Steve was taking you, so you would have kept walking if Steve hadn’t stopped and gently placed his hands over your eyes. You felt the man turn you around and walk you a few steps when finally he removed the makeshift blindfold that was his hands.

“We’re here! Rebecca told me how much you loved chocolate, so I figured you could pick a box of your choice.”

He smiled lovingly at you, as you squealed like a child on Christmas morning. Thrilled, you ran into the store, seeing a case of a variety of chocolates. Steve caught up and enjoyed your cute facial expressions as you scanned over the options. There was an endless amount of chocolate, all in different forms and unthinkable flavors. About to order, you pulled out your clutch when Steve halted your actions.

“Now you think I’m gonna let my girl pay for her own box of chocolates?”

“But Steve-”

Your date stood strong in his statement, and demanded that you pick whatever chocolate you wanted. After scowling at him for a bit, you finally caved and picked from the overwhelming selection behind the glass case. You and Steve shared a few samples, laughing at how you both were acting like wine samplers. Since your date was buying the box, you told him that you’d only allow him to do so, if he selected a few chocolates himself. Begrudgingly, Steve agreed and you both might’ve held up the line a bit with your indecisiveness.

Walking out, you were once again wrapped into Steve’s side, this time his jacket on your shoulders as the sun had gone down and the night chills had creeped out. So far, you could feel Steve becoming more and more comfortable as the two of you started to talk about whatever came to mind. Just as you thought the man was done with the surprises, he stopped in front of the movie theater.

“Steve-”

“Nope, this is our first date, and we are going to make it memorable!”

You chuckled at his persistence and decided to play along.

“Well what about this lovely chocolate, we can’t just toss it out yet?”

Steve took the box and stuffed it in the pocket of his jacket that was still hanging on your shoulders.

“Oooh is Steve Rogers breaking the rules?”

A cheeky grin formed on his lips, “Only because I really like you.”

The minute the words left his mouth, Steve’s ears started to turn cherry and you shyly giggled.

“Well, I really like you too, Steve Rogers.” With that, you kissed him, but this time on the lips. As you did so, you could feel his cheeks warming and a big smile twisted onto your lips, breaking the kiss.

“Oh Steve Rogers, what am I going to do with you?”

[hankwritten]

TFComics Rewrite

I am currently plotting an outline for a TFComics, and I want to get my thoughts about fixes to canon and possibly get feedback. Since this is a rewrite there’s really no *spoilers* or anything, so I’m willing to answer all questions about what I plan to do. Also some characters I’m not so sure about how I want to retool them, so if your have ideas for your fav let me know!

Disclaimer:

This rewrite is intended to critique the content/choices made in the construction and telling of the Team Fortress 2 comic series. It is not a personal attack on the artists/writers/directors or any of the creatives that made contributions to this series, nor is it meant to substitute or replace the official release. This work is transformative in nature, and relies on an understanding of the source material to be understood. TF2 and its characters belong to Valve.

TFCR is working on the assumption that the audience has read the original comic, and as such will skip over scenes and plot points that are unchanged from the original. I don’t think it needs to be said, but this fanfiction will not make sense if you are not familiar with the source.

I also recognize that there are strengths within the comic’s writing and weaknesses within my own. Namely, that Valve writers are gods in the realm of comedy, and I’d rather not try to match them in the regard. As such, I will state up front that these will not be as funny as the TFComics. That is not to say there won’t be jokes (either ones transplanted from the source or some of my own) or that the tone of this will be terribly grimdark, only that my focus will be on improving story structure and character development as those are what appeal to me.

 The Broad Strokes

The goal of TFCR is to give a more engaging story for all the mercenaries we know and love, as--let’s face it--the TF2 mercs are side characters in their own damn story. These are some of the planned improvements.

There will be reason for each of the mercs to actually be there. As it stands, the motivations for almost every character besides Pauling and Saxton Hale are vague and unsatisfying. We’d usually say something along the lines of “money” for hired killers, but clearly Scout doesn’t even know if they’re getting paid, and some of the other characters are even worse. The hunt for the Australium is, therefore, boring. MacGuffins usually are, but at the very least the characters should care about the item even if the audience doesn’t. This work aims to give each of the nine mercs a motive and a reason to be in the story instead of just replaceable joke dispensers.

Explain what “Team Fortress” means, and how it relates to RED and BLU. Long and short: the nine mercenaries we see on the team are not from either RED or BLU but rotate between the two, and were the individuals selected to fight the robots. That means all things do happen to all characters. As Valve pretty much goes with “whatever is funniest at the time”, it’s very hard to make a cohesive theory about “where the hell is BLU team?”, but I’ll do my damndest. We’ll also examine Team Fortress’s relationship with the other capital T Teams, and why they’re considered the “rejects” of the bunch.

Comics 1 & 2 will be removed from the timeline as they serve no purpose, only taking what needs to be known about the plot’s setup and jumping straight to A Cold Day in Hell.

We will introduce the Classic Mercs right away so they can generate threat and play against the TF mercs when they do actually meet head to head.

We will not be killing off Gray Mann. (Not preemptively anyway.) In fact, there will be more focus on him and Olivia as villains facing off against the Admin, providing her foil as the TF2 and TFC mercs provide foils for each other.

I considered waiting until the final comic was out to begin working on this, but that may never happen. Jay Pinkerton said he may reveal what plot they had in store eventually, but considering it took Half Life over a decade to get the “I was once a Valve writer but my NDA has expired and now I can go buck wild” treatment, I’m not holding my breath. The main reason I wanted to do this is that the Administrator’s motivations are not interestingly foreshadowed, to the point where there aren’t even any good fan theories out there. That said, WritingDispenser and Riddle of the Sphinx helped come up with a pretty fun one, which was actually the inspiration for me to get off my butt and start plotting this.

There will be no queerbaiting. This refers both to HeavyMedic (which has been simultaneously used as wink wink nudge nudge joke many times and as encouragement for fans to play their stupid hat game) as well as lesbian Pauling (since femme lesbians are the preferred method for front facing LGBT representation across almost all media, but video games especially). If you need to understand why lesbian Pauling is an issue, Sarah Z coined the term “queercatching” in order to describe word of god confirmations on characters sexualities that are not followed up on in the text. I recommend the full video on it.

Due to the importance of immortality in the theming of the comics, respawn will not be a thing. Deaths we think should have happened previously will be explained as close calls, or that Medic can heal a short time after death. Medic and Scout’s deaths will be cut in the story itself, as after Sniper died and came back, them doing the same thing kinda lost their punch.

Scout

There will be no ScoutPauling hints. It doesn’t make sense to give screentime to this relationship because Valve obviously doesn’t think it’s going to go anywhere so why make Scout turn down advances from other hot women? I mean I get Expiration Date was a Thing but it feels like Scout’s whole motivation shouldn’t be reduced down to chasing a girl who doesn’t like him back.

He’s here because he lost his life’s savings in bad investments and needs the money. That’s it. Which is still somehow more than his canon motive which is question mark question mark question mark

He, Soldier, Spy, Demo, and Pyro all start the adventure with Miss Pauling.

Engages with Heavy on a genuine level when they go to collect him, Heavy doesn’t blow him off when he tries to level about dead dads.

There will be no DadSpy reveal. The way Spy treats Scout has never been “deadbeat dad feels bad about abandoning his kid” but more “this is someone I would kill without a second thought if I felt like it” which makes his reveal in comic 5 feel very disingenuous. I don’t think Valve even had this plotline in mind until comic 3, as #2 still has Spy seeming only to care about Scout’s Ma and not Scout himself. It also makes “seduce me!” retroactively weird.

Uhhh hooks up with Zhanna. This one isn’t critical I just think it’s funny.

Soldier

Soldier is going to be the Ur example of the Admin not treating her people well, as we’re going to lean into the whole “Soldier was only mildly messed up until the whole lead poisoning” thing.

He’s here because he’s blindingly loyal to the cause. He’s actually going to very little from canon because of this actually.

Might be the reason Team Fortress has a reputation of being the lower tiers of the Teams, but that doesn’t mean he’s damn good at his job. Fatal flaw is that he’s unstable, and even though the courthouse plotline won’t be in this fic, it should be noted that he actually does cause problems for the other protagonists due to his short temper. He’s a risky asset, but still essential.

There will be a minor explanation for the WAR! Comic, but I think that’s better saved for Demo’s analysis.

Pyro

Pyro is the character you could cut entirely from the comics and have the least change. Now, they’re going to be Pauling’s right hand. Let me explain.

Engineer and Pyro are implied to live together, and Pyro doesn’t have anything better to do than go with Engie after Team Fortress is disbanded. Rather than having a reveal, we will see some of what is going on with the Admin and friends early on, and see what leads up to her sending Miss P the note that kicks off the whole plot. However, while Engie needs to stay and look after her, Pyro’s skills aren’t useful here, and they are sent as a direct messenger to help Pauling.

They’re loyal, and unlike Soldier rarely mess up orders. They’re also partially mute, making them ideal for handling sensitive info. Pauling trusts them to handle the burning of “Elizabeth’s” paper trail.

Will be using they/them in the narrative voice, but other characters will refer to them as he/him. I considered going with it/its because that’s bubbled up in popularity again, but ultimately I decided against it.

We’ll get glimpses to their train of thought, but like the comics they will remain virtually silent.

Demo

Demo’s role in the cast is going to be very similar to Spy’s. The events of WAR! involved him nearly dying and Soldier taking the win, and he’s very bitter that after all those events *apparently* mercs can just be switched around teams willy nilly and don’t have to kill each other anymore. (As the audience, we know this is because the Admin found out the “make them so angry they won’t ask questions” wasn’t a long-term viable solution, and instead brought TFI forward as a neutral third party that was pretending to mediate the gravel wars.) But Demo’s suspicious, and is only along because he really has been miserable since he lost his job.

This conflict will eventually come to a head, more on that in the Sniper section.

Is fairly forgiving with his teammates. Doesn’t like Sniper but I’m willing to drop a little angst during that submarine scene. Is glad to see Medic actually. Here to be some glue to hold this merry band together.

The Eyelander will not be forgotten after 2 comics because I love this character concept and I think it was underutilized.

Drunk jokes will be kept to a minimum. What I liked about WAR! and Bombinomicon was that it took Demo and showed that they knew how to make him funny without making him one note, which they sort of did in the early TFComics but stopped in the later ones in favor of him….being asleep for the whole plot. I promise 100% awake Demo in my rewrite.

Demo likes Pauling on a personal level, but has trouble reconciling her with his feelings on TFI.

Doesn’t get knocked out by moonshine because. Seriously? Poisoning the Demoman with alcohol? In what world does that work.

Heavy

Not too much to change. Scout doesn’t accompany him when he goes to look for the secret Australium cache, and he engages with Mags and Saxton (which will be when the audience finds out what they’ve been up to) and actually cares about what’s going on with them. He thinks Darling is up to something. Which he is, he’s attempting to unseat both Gray and Helen due to long family history.

Will at least mention Medic. Their reunion falls a little flat since it mostly relies on Meet the Medic for context, as they don’t really interact in the comic. There can be a bit of a flashback to what it was like as all these mercs broke up.

I know uhhh Valve seems to think found family is really dumb, and that these murderers could ever like each other is silly or something, but the mercs do? Like each other? For the most part anyways. 

Bronislava and Yana come alone for adventures, not just Zhanna. Again, no real reason, but sometimes I get to have tacky fanfic stuff in my own fanfic because I Wanna.

Engineer

Engie ruminates on his family history of allowing all this bullshit to happen and just kind of shrugging. Basically Moss’s analysis of the Conagher themes.

Has put a lot of time, sweat, and tears into BLU and now TFI, isn’t willing to let it fall now, even if Admin is basically living on borrowed time. He’s doing this because of the ‘ole sunk cost fallacy.

Also we get to see more of Pauling and Admin’s relationship through his eyes.

Medic

Congrats on being the one merc with an actual arc, Medic! As a reward, you will not be changed much.

I’m actually going to use Medic’s section to say that the Classic mercs will be referred to by their first names in order to differentiate them, and we’ll get little previews of what they’re like from Medic’s perspective before we actually see them fight Team fortress. The battle at the submarine will be more of a fight in this sense, working it out so it seems like surrender is the only option after Sniper is killed.

Final fight with Cheavy will be...not blocked so awkwardly. I mean this is now a textual medium so my work is already halfway done, but still the pacing is so weird. Shudder.

Sniper

These are the big guns. Most changes, even more than Demo. He’s been actually hunting for New Zealand/the Australium cache on his own, and doesn’t want Pauling interfering, saying for a he knows she could have been the ones to kill his adoptive parents.

(She hasn’t, but the Admin did actually order them killed in an attempt to stop Sniper because she thought she could prevent the exact thing that is going on right now which is that Sniper is considering trying to get at it.)

Sniper doesn’t know this, but Pauling, Demo, and Spy eventually convince him to share his findings and help them get to New Zealand.

Spy

Similar to Demo but is less conflicted about it. He knows just because he likes someone doesn’t mean he won’t have to kill them later. 

Spy knows about who killed Sniper’s parents, and tells Demo, sort of as a test to see where his loyalties lie. He also knows that Pyro is Pauling’s confidant for certain things.

Demo questions him about what he’s doing here, whose side he’s really on. But you know. Spy is Spy and he was never really on anyone’s side but his own. When it comes down to it, it might be exactly as Scout thinks: that he’s ditched them all and run off when he had the opportunity. But, big damn hero, comes back in the end.

He’s here mainly to “keep an eye on things.” Also maybe because his gf asked him to keep an eye on her son :)

[mrs-hyperfixed-writes]

Mirrors and Madness

Could you write a oneshot about y/n who is still stuck in the mirror, at the border of madness, and Actor Mark rescues them? Requested by Nekotsuki314159.

And since @the-tragic-hero-and-you wanted more Actor content.

How many years has it been? You didn’t know, for your own sanity you had stopped counting the cycles of sunlight and moonlight that streamed down through the windows.

On the other side of this mirror, there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. Just solid darkness that you were able to stand and sit on. You had watched this mansion fall into a decrepit ruin, home now only to spiders and their prey. Not even vagrants wanted to sleep in this place. They had tried, but as soon as they had glanced at the mirror and glimpsed a misty dark shape banging against the broken glass and making noiseless screams they had uttered shrieks of their own and ran for the hills. You had been well beyond subtlety at that point, the sight of another person had filled you with such an intense hope that you had lost all sense of self-control and started raving for them to help you. But no one ever visited this place twice, afraid of the silent demon in the mirror. You had become the town’s resident Bloody Mary.

All they saw was a dark shape, but on the other side of the mirror you could see yourself clearly. The colour of your skin, the length of your hair, your fingernails. You were still wearing the clothes you died in - a white shirt and simple dark trousers. Everything was still there on this side of the mirror, only visible to you. That made it worse, knowing that no one would ever see the person behind the dark shape.

So, stuck in this hell, all you could do was think. And you had been thinking for so long. It had been one hundred years, not that you would have known that. And for the millionth time, you thought of Damien. You thought of the Colonel. You thought of Celene. You thought of Abe and Chef and Benjamin.  And you thought of Mark.

You had been so angry when they had shut you in the mirror. At everyone. Even today you still were, anger and pain were old friends. Damien was supposed to be your best friend, but that had meant absolutely nothing in the end. Him and that bitch Celene had condemned you to something you wouldn’t have wished on your worst enemy. The Colonel had killed you, the evidence of his crime still a fresh wound in your stomach that never healed. Whatever Damien and Celene had become probably sported the scar, but you had no body to heal it. Your soul was bare, and the wound had gone right down through it. You had grown used to the pain. Your white shirt had been glued to your skin with the dried blood.

Finally, your thoughts had turned to Mark. You had hated him most of all at first, angry at his entire failed plan for revenge. But all this time to think had brought sorrow into the equation. The Colonel had gone mad. Damien and Celene had had no choice you supposed - even if you still held hate in your heart for that Seer. And Mark. A poor heartbroken fool whose wife had hadn’t even had the decency to leave him before fucking his best friend. So you had forgiven them. . . Most of them.

And sometimes, like today, you entertained the thought of Damien coming back for you. Taking you out of this place.

You almost laughed. The idea was so hysterical that it might as well be a cruel joke. It was almost a guarantee that you weren’t even on Damien’s mind. You were forgotten. You probably weren’t even important enough to be a thought in the back of his mind. And then you were laughing, so hard that tears were running down your face in great big drops. You hugged yourself, your ribs beginning to ache. From a certain point of view the situation was so funny! So funny that you couldn’t stop the shrieking laughter that bubbled up from your throat.

Then laughing gave way to sobbing.

You fell on your knees, hugging yourself even tighter to keep from falling apart. Then the sobs turned to screams. Screams of unbridled anguish that threatened to tear your throat apart. You gripped fistfuls of your own hair and pulled, trying to use physical pain to distract you from the mental torment. But it was useless. Your head was a whirlpool of negative thoughts, a volatile mix of the desire for someone to help you, the anger and lust for revenge, and a degree of self-blame for staying here and getting caught up in the situation. But you were Mark’s friend just as much as Damien was. How could you just leave after what had been done to him?

I’m such a fool Mark, you thought to yourself.  

You raked your nails down your face, stinging red marks rising in their wake. You screamed even louder. You were hanging on so tight to that last shred of sanity that you possessed. You clung to it like a man lost at sea clings to a piece of wreckage. But as you screamed and cried you wondered if letting go would be such a bad thing? Losing your mind had been your bogeyman when you had first been imprisoned here, it had been the only thing you had. But as you sat there, trying desperately to hurt yourself, you seriously considered just letting go. Just sinking down into the comfort of insanity, where these thoughts couldn’t reach you.

Let go, a voice whispered inside your head. And you were prepared to. You calmed yourself as you felt your fingers slipping from the piece of driftwood holding you aloft, as you started to slip into the abyss.

SLAM!

You yelped, clinging back on for dear life in fright. That had been the door. Someone was in the house, and by the sounds of their footsteps they were coming towards the shattered mirror. You picked yourself up from the floor, prepared to throw yourself against the glass and beg for their help, shame overcoming you at the thought of how easily you were going to give up. But as you rose and came face to face with the person that had saved you from giving into the madness you paused. You knew that face.

It was Mark.

And he was staring right at you with a look of utter devastation on his face. He was staring at you as if. . . as if he saw you. Not that dark shape that others saw, but you. He was scanning you, taking in every detail. His eyes lingered on that gunshot wound, and he winced.

He looked awful. He had bags under his eyes and dark circles to match that spoke of many sleepless nights. He had lost weight, and it looked like he hadn’t shaved in a month. He wore a red jacket, so some things never changed. And his eyes. His eyes were full of such sorrow that it broke your heart. You had never seen him like this. Never seen him vulnerable. Before, he had used his arrogance and pride to shield him, but now he was strppied bare and exposed to the world. Exposed to you.

And with all the questions that raced through your mind, all the conflicting emotions that threatened to cleave your heart in two, you could only think to ask, “Why did you come back?”

And he heard that. You, who had spent so many years in alone with your own screams, were heard. And you were heard by the very man that had been involved with this. But regardless, relief ran through you when he answered you. Oh, to hear a voice that wasn’t afraid. To hear a voice that wasn’t your own.

“I missed you. . .” he trailed off, seeming to know that it was a poor reason to come back after all this time.

You wanted to laugh again. But if you did you might again descend into that pit of madness and never be able to climb back out. And the thought of scaring him off with that insanity grounded you. Instead a single tear rolled out of your cheek. He had missed you? The idea that he had been thinking of you at all sent conflicting emotions racing through you.

“You left me,” you whispered. “Damien left me. The colonel left me. Everyone left me.”

“I’m sorry (y/n).”

Another tear fell. He had meant that apology with everything in his being. The Mark you had known wouldn’t have apologised if you had tortured him for it. What had happened to him? What had broken him.

“I should never have left you here (y/n),” he said with watery eyes.

He hadn’t forgotten you. He saw you. He heard you. He came back for you. Late perhaps, but he came back.  

“I forgive you.”

Because you did. There was a voice that told you to try to reach out and grab him. Pull him in, take his body and be free. But you ignored it, because he came back. He hadn’t forgotten about you. And that whirlpool of pain and anger began to settle again. It wouldn’t be calm waters yet, not for a long time. You both still had issues to work through, but now you had each other.

“Take me with you?” you begged, letting the raw desperation creep into your voice.

He nodded and reached out a hand, his fingertips stopping short when they gently thudded against the glass. You stared for a moment, unsure of what to do, and when you looked at his face for guidance he gave you a smirk. That smirk was so familiar that it nearly sent you sobbing again. Apprehensively, you reached out your hand too. It also thudded against the glass from your side, but there was something else. You could. . . feel his fingertips against the glass. He was so warm. Mark worked his entire hand closer to the glass, never once breaking contact with your skin.

You nearly fainted when his hand reached right through the glass to fully grasp yours tightly.

Then he pulled.

And the feeling of euphoria when he pulled your hand right through the mirror towards him was indescribable. You cried out, unable to keep these feelings to yourself, tears of joy instead of anguish streaming down your face as you looked at him. He was pulling you through slowly, a look of intense concentration on his face. He never let go of your hand, and when your arm was fully free of the glass he used his other hand to grip onto it.

And as you were pulled out into the biting air, you solidified. You were developing a body. You could feel the air and dust against your bare skin. Against your shoulder. Against your face. He didn’t take a moment to stop, only hooked his arm under your shoulders when your top half was out. Soon your legs followed, and with a final pull and an arm hooked under your legs, you were out.

The Actor fell to the floor, grunting as your weight fell on top of him. You did sob then, but this time it was because of the feeling of the air and dust, and most importantly the feel of Mark’s warmth underneath yours. You wriggled around, lying on top of him so that you were chest to chest.

“I’ve missed you so much (y/n),” he whispered, pulling you closer to him as if afraid you would disappear, a hand gently running through your hair.

You drew back suddenly, going to feel those gunshot wounds. But you didn’t. They weren’t there anymore. All that existed in their place were scars. Mark traced them with his fingers, something like wonder on his face.

You pulled yourself away from him and attempted to stand only to collapse again. After so long without a physical body learning to walk again was going to be difficult. Mark chuckled, whispering something that sounded like baby deer to himself. Instead of helping you up, he stood and hooked one arm under your shoulders and the other under your leg, carrying you in his arms.

You snuggled into his chest, murmuring about how he would never be alone again. He murmured back the same thing.

[itsuki-minamy]

“K SIDE: PURPLE 09”

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

K - Side: Purple (Chapter List)

"Is it Miwa Ichigen-san?"

As he wiped the sweat from his neck, Mishakuji shook his neck and asked.

It was the usual vacant lot that he used as a training room. Hase hung up when the sun went down and it was time to finish the day's lessons.

"Oh. I think I've talked about it sometime, but he's my swordsman friend. Why don't you meet him?"

Hase said with a smile. He may have been smiling too much. Yukari narrowed his eyes a bit, turned his back on Hase, and started preparing for his return.

"What do you think, Yukari?"

"I am not particularly interested."

Yukari answered Hase, who asked again, without looking back. Hase's smile was a bit stiff and the sweat that flowed under his armpits was different from practice. But, fortunately or unfortunately, Yukari stopped, so he didn't have to worry about distracting him.

However, Yukari was cunning. It is possible that he had already noticed Hase's true intentions.

"That said, if you were learning alone, you would eventually get stuck. The sword can only be expanded by interacting with many people. You want to be stronger, right?"

"……"

"I can't bear to see your sword talent keep showing up. Miwa is a trusted friend. I definitely want you to see his sword."

Before he knew it, he was pleading. Hase didn't have the heart to confess that. He's been stuck with an idea ever since he drank it on Massive Boys.

Gather Miwa Ichigen and Mishakuji Yukari.

That is why he came here to "Niibangai".

Yukari's sword talent far surpasses Hase's. It is possible that Hase is even stronger now, due to the difference in experience and physique that he has accumulated. Yukari will grow steadily from now on. In the not too distant future, Hase will no longer have anything to teach Yukari.

But Miwa Ichigen is different. That bottomless man has the ability to accept Yukari's sword talent. Hase was convinced of that. The two sword monsters he encountered in his life, Miwa Ichigen and Mishakuji Yukari, should meet. That was Hase's conclusion.

However, even when he spoke all the words from him, Yukari's back did not move firmly. Hase was about to give up on Yukari who got up with all his luggage.

"His sword is beautiful."

The words he said at the wrong time shook Yukari's shoulders.

"The most beautiful thing I have ever seen is Miwa Ichigen's sword. I want you to see that sword, which is incomparable to mine, take a look at it and you will know."

There was no lie in the clinging words. The truth is that it was etched in Hase's mind as the most beautiful thing in the world.

That night, in the Kendo hall, Miwa brandished his sword as if he were dancing alone.

Hase had no choice but to go out because it was so beautiful.

"Yukari, by all means…"

Yukari slowly looked back at Hase. Seeing that expression, Hase swallowed the words. He was angry.

Indescribable anger, dissatisfaction and irritation appeared on Yukari's beautiful face. It was the first time the boy had such an emotional expression. Not knowing where it came from, Hase could only be confused.

"Don't do the same thing over and over again."

Yukari said that shaking his voice from him.

"I'm not interested. It is enough if I can learn to use the sword from my master."

"Nevertheless…"

"Sensei..."

Yukari turned around. He frowned and bit his lip to kill something.

"My master says to go somewhere far away, should I go?"

For a moment, not knowing what was being asked, Hase listened carefully.

"What?"

"Everyone is saying it. I think I'll do that. Taka-san, Seiya-san, Mi-chan, Sayuri-Onesama. I'll go somewhere someday. I'm going to disappear from here."

His words were familiar to him.

That's exactly what Taka-san said that night. A child as beautiful and talented as Yukari is not suitable for a gloomy place like "Niibangai". He should be able to walk into a brighter world.

"It's like it's natural. I didn't want that. I'm sure it will happen one day, so I'm not asking for it."

That should have been hope. It must have been a blessing for the future, for the possibilities. But…

"Everyone says it's natural for me to think that, and that's a good thing. Not being here. I should get out of here someday."

Yukari was walking away. As if he was afraid that he would see his wet eyes.

Seeing that, Hase's chest quickly settled in his understanding.

(Oh, what is it? This guy…)

"Yukari. Do you think you're going to get rid of me?"

Yukari's face quickly turned red. Like a child struck by a star.

Hase was about to laugh and hastily put his strength into his facial muscles. No matter how experienced he is, he knows how miserable a person is who is laughed at because of his true feelings. If he does that, Yukari won't forgive him for the rest of his life.

"No, Yukari. It's not like that."

Naturally, Hase was getting closer to Yukari. When he put his hand on his shoulder, he noticed that Yukari's shoulder was unexpectedly small. It was the shoulder of a 15-year-old boy, of course.

"Everyone says that because you are important. I am the same. I don't think you are a bother to me or that you should go somewhere far away."

"……"

Yukari looked down as if he couldn't believe it.

It may not be unreasonable to think that.

Yukari is a foreign body to "Niibangai". Beautiful, noble and full of talent. Even if he is favorably accepted by other residents, it will not be possible not to see him as a foreign body. Sayuri and her friends love Yukari, but wasn't it such a love as treating a little bird with broken wings instead of a compatriot?

How did this sneaky kid take it? Hase cannot fully understand.

Yet he seemed possible to imagine it, albeit vaguely.

"Neither Taka-san, Seiya-san, Mi-chan, nor Sayuri-san want you to go far. Somehow they want you to stay."

Yukari looked at Hase with dissatisfied eyes.

"Then, why?"

"They don't want to get hurt."

The word passed through Hase's mouth before he thought.

"If they don't, they won't be able to bear the loneliness of losing you. If you don't prepare ahead of time, you will hurt yourself when the time comes when you're not ready for it. Everyone is afraid of that."

As he said, Hase noticed that he was smiling. The slight smile was also a bitter smile for him.

Someone who is beautiful enough to long for will stay with them forever. Everyone knows that such a thing is just a dream story.

The more beautiful a dream is, the greater the difference from reality. You can imagine the pain when you fall from there. That's why they wanted to put a cushion in beforehand, and Hase could understand that feeling painfully.

"I'm not going anywhere."

The tight voice trembled like a child. Hase was great and dominated many times.

"Yes. You don't have to go anywhere, but you can go anywhere."

"……"

"We don't want to get in the way. You know, Yukari?"

After a moment, Yukari slowly took it easy.

"Ok!"

He changed his face and started packing his luggage. Yukari was looking at him with wide eyes.

"Would you like to go home? If you don't go home and take a shower, you will catch a cold!"

"Ok."

"Let's get Sayuri back to making rice! Sayuri's rice is delicious!"

With a deliberate and high voice, Mishakuji still smiled.

"Only the sensei can say that."

"Hmm? Really? Good things are good though. That's the one thing that can't be changed."

"Originally, there is hardly any place to change, sensei."

While exchanging such a conversation, the two of them walk through "Niibangai". It seemed that something bad had fallen. It took him a long time to remember that Yukari was a 15-year-old boy.

Still, along the way, Hase finally brought it up.

"Ichigen Miwa…"

Yukari's eyes stiffened for a moment, but they quickly melted. Hase continued, admiring that it was clear.

"I won't force you to meet him. If you don't want to, there's no point in doing so. Forget my words."

The vision of that night in his mind, strangely, did not seem so bitter in Hase today.

"Remember this. Miwa Ichigen's sword is beautiful."

"……"

"Whenever you want to see something beautiful, say so. I can write a cover letter."

Yukari blinked slowly. Hase noticed a kind of flame ignite in the back of his eyes.

Hase walk slowly, without laughing.

++++++++++

"Hey, Mishakuji-chan, are you going somewhere?"

Mi-chan said such a thing, mixing surprise with his stiff voice.

Even though it was Saturday night, the only guests from "Hanawarabe" were Taka-san, Seiya-san and Mi-chan. After hooking up at another store, they seem to have fallen for "Hanawarabe", and were drunk with a good feeling. On the contrary, Mishakuji was impressed that he had never seen a place where they were not drunk.

"I'm going to meet Hase-san's friend. He lives in the mountains somewhere, so it's a day trip from tomorrow. I guess..."

Sayuri looked at Yukari only from the edge of her eyes. Yukari concentrated on washing the dishes and pretended not to notice.

"Is his friend related to Kendo?"

"That's right. He is an old friend. He asked me if I wanted to see him, in that case he would write a letter, he said that the people there would be excited and I could go see him right away."

"Well then it's a training trip. At first I thought that Mishakuji-chan had started something strange, but you are completely absorbed in it."

"Mishakuji-chan will grow up like this~. Somehow I feel lonely~"

With a sigh, Mi-chan insisted on a glass of beer. When Taka-san, who was next to him, smiled and tried to say something, Mishakuji opened his mouth silently.

"I'll be right back."

"Eh?"

"'Niibangai' is my hometown. I will be back."

The thick eyes that are peculiar to drunkenness turned towards Yukari. After blinking slowly, Mi-chan happily collapsed.

"Oh, that's good."

"I mean, that's not the norm. Mishakuji-chan is still a high school student. If you forget to study, you won't learn."

"Oh, my, when did Sayuri become an educational mom?"

"I wonder if all of today's accounts are attached to Taka-san."

"Really? It's a party, Taka-san!"

"Banquet!"

"Hey, no one told me to skip it, right?"

Looking away from the three people who started making noise, Mishakuji smiled calmly alone.

It wasn't long after he spoke to Hase in the wasteland, that he decided to meet Miwa Ichigen.

If he had been the Yukari back then, he would not have refused and they would have finally met. Sayuri's words that he would go somewhere far away were etched in his heart all the time. There was such a suffocation that everyone looked forward to Yukari's future and decided that they would not be ahead of the game. There was so much loneliness that people she thought were friends said, "You are different."

But…

(You don't have to go anywhere, but you can go anywhere.)

When he heard Hase's words, he felt his chest support.

That's right, Yukari thought. Being able to go anywhere also means you don't have to go anywhere. It is not decided by others, but by Yukari himself. Yukari doesn't have to be caught up in anything. He didn't even have to be trapped in his heart.

If he wants to go somewhere far away, he can always come back. "Niibangai" will not change, will always be there.

When he thought that, the first thing he wanted to see was Miwa's sword. He couldn't help but want to see the sword muscle that he made Hase Isshin say, "It's more beautiful than anything else."

So he's going to find it. He was surprised that it was effective, but mindless patience is not included in the beauty that Yukari thinks. Seeing beautiful things was Yukari's greatest joy, and even now, he still had the feeling that his expectations of him are bloody.

"Mishakuji-chan, it's time to go upstairs. I'll do the rest."

Suddenly Sayuri said that. Looking at the clock, it's still 12 o'clock. It should rather be the future in which "Hanawarabe" will be busy.

"You're leaving early tomorrow, right? You can't meet someone there with a sleepy face, so take a break today."

"Onesama."

Yukari looked away slightly at the soft voice. But the surprise soon turned into a miserable joy. He was sure that Sayuri still did not think about his involvement in the sword. However, this person was still willing to send it herself. Nothing more than because she thought of Yukari.

"Yes. Thank you. Well, then I'll go rest."

Yukari, leaning slightly, took off his apron.

Mi-chan laughs and lightly sets the glass down.

"Well, Mishakuji-chan. I can't wait for you to buy me souvenirs!"

Seiya-san smiled and waved his hand towards Yukari.

"See you, Mishakuji-chan. When you come back, tell me what kind of person he was."

Taka-san gently narrowed his eyes and waved softly.

"I'm glad, Mishakuji-chan. You found something you can absorb yourself in."

Yukari smiled and leaned in again.

"Goodnight everyone."

Then Yukari opened the door and went upstairs to where his room was.

That was the last time he saw Mi-chan, Seiya-san, Taka-san and Sayuri.

[romeoryu]

me waiting until the last minute to write my intro post, forcing myself to rush through it all as quickly as possible despite having had days and days to write something detailed and thoughtful? it is more likely than you think. but anyways helo it me!!!! ur local admin aka kayla aka romeo’s mother and somehow also his worst enemy. heh. like i said, i’m gonna rush through this & try to make it cohesive as possible but forgive me if nothing makes sense adshjfdfh. like this to plot, or just hmu on my discord which is currently JAELENTINE’S DAY#8258 ( hbd yoonoh ilu )

— ( 𝐤𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐚𝐞𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐠 & 𝐜𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞. ) oh my god look, it’s romeo ryu! he is a 23 year old actor from newark, new jersey. they were first associated with the met cartel 2 years ago, and the tabloids are always saying he is so audacious & evasive, but their stans on twitter say that he is actually really rougish & debonair. 

— 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐭, 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐩𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞, 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐣𝐞𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐫𝐲 𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐠𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐢 𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧, 𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐚𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐚 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐳𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐬. 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐬 𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞, 𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐲 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐧.

— 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒃𝒐𝒂𝒓𝒅.

tw: drug abuse, death/overdose

— part i.

from the very beginning of his life, romeo ryu has struggled with trying to figure out where his place in the world is. he doesn’t remember much of his earliest years, time spent in a home with parents he can only remember in far away, hazy dreams. 

his parents were young, and in lust. he was never planned, or, in the end, wanted & ended up in the foster care system by the time he was two. for most of his life he bounced around from foster home to foster home, some good and some terrible, but none of them great. he held on to and undying hope that one day he’d stumble upon the family that wanted him, the parents that loved him and the childhood he dreamed of. but year in and year out it never came, and that hope began to burn out around his 13th birthday. 

stuck in the system, he had to grow a thick skin. there was no one at his back or there to defend him, and most of his foster families only cared about the monthly check they received in return for letting him sleep under their roofs. and in the end, that’s all it really was. a place to sleep and a couple free meals. aside from that he was on his own. 

college was never an option – there was no way in hell he could afford it, and by the time he was 16, he was sick of sleeping under strangers’ roofs. he dropped out of high school in order to pick up a handful of odd jobs and by the time he aged out of the system he’d saved up enough money to leave jersey and shove the little bit of shit he owned into a one bedroom apartment in the bronx with two other guys he’d found on craigslist. it was never ideal, but it was the only place he’d ever felt he could call his own. 

from bussing in shabby live music bars to over night shifts at the bodega and early morning opening hours at the public library, romeo kept himself busy. but no matter how many hours he worked or how tired he got, it didn’t keep him from falling into the wrong crowd. it started out as just a bit of fun, just a way to get out of his own head in the few hours of free time he managed to carve out in a week, the alcohol and the drugs were just a way to pass the time, a way to make his shitty, boring life a little less shitty. 

but then it got worse. then instead of saving money he was spending it all on whatever he could afford. instead of looking to move out he was struggling to keep up with rent. his days between 19 and 20 passed in a blur, until he was hit with a reality check one night in a friend’s basement unit, so high he still doesn’t really remember what happened. but he remembers the shaking body on the floor and the cold fear in his belly and the hand on his arm pulling him away and telling him they have to go. they don’t tell anyone, and they don’t talk about. still, romeo doesn’t know who found the body or how long it took for it all to be over. 

it’s not enough of a reality check to pull him out of the dark though, and his head really only surfaces enough to get his act together long enough to get the fuck out of his shoebox apartment and away from his annoying ass roommates. he packs up, fits all his things in a backpack and duffle bag and leaves the rest, and gets on a plane across the country. 

— part ii.

he wasn’t expecting much from LA, just a change of pace and better weather mostly, but he manages to strike gold when a stranger approaches him while he’s bartending and asks him if he’s a model. romeo tells him no and then the guys asks him if he’s an actor. and when romeo says no to that he asks what the hell he’s doing in LA, and if he wants to give any of it a try. romeo isn’t exactly keen, but he asks the guy how much he’s paying, and that’s the only convincing he needs. 

acting comes easy. it’s natural to him, finally letting out all those emotions he’s been choking on for years. and his face doesn’t hurt either. he shoots his first indie film when he’s 21, and walks his first red carpet ten months later. to say he catapulted into fame would be an understatement. he blinked and he had management agencies practically kicking his door down, had gained hundreds of thousands of followers in mere weeks, and was signed onto his first major hollywood film before he’d even bought a couch for his apartment. 

it was like whiplash, the way he tossed into the grasp of hollywood. but fuck, was it fun. and confusing, suddenly having fans and people that loved him and supported him. he had the face and the talent, but he didn’t have a celebrity personality. he stayed away from interviews and side projects and award shows (as much as he could at least), but he found it hard to stay away from the after parties and the one night stands and drugs. god, the drugs were good. 

fast forward to 22 and he’s made his first handful of friends, and has officially been associated with the met cartel. which brings us to today, or a few months ago. when he was fired off the set of his most recent film and his largest project to date for drug related issues. it’s his first huge scandal, and his second wake up call. this time though, he’s got a management team to clean it up & they shove him into rehab in an attempt to clean up both his image and his act. 

as of today, he is 0 days clean, but that’s no ones business but his own. he was released from his rehab program three weeks ago, and has since been trying to get find his footing again to no avail. he doesn’t really know what else there is for him to do outside of partying and sleeping with anything that has a pulse, especially now that he isn’t working 70 hours a week. but he’s figuring it out. kind of. not really. but again, that’s no one’s business but his own. 

— part iii.

personality wise, he’s a bit of an asshole. but it’s all just surface, typical defensive behavior. he doesn’t know how to be close to people or how have real feelings in a place that isn’t a movie set. which is why the drugs are his choice of hobby. he doesn’t know he’s supposed to be when he’s sober or how he’s supposed to move throughout the world. 

but beneath all that, if you manage to get past the exterior, romeo is a sensitive being. real Sad Boy hours. he takes a lot of things to heart (though he’ll never admit it) and he’s terrified of being alone or abandoned, which gets complicated. he likes to spend most of his time with people to avoid being lonely, but he doesn’t like to get very close to them in order to avoid being abandoned. so, that causes issues. 

outside of acting he’s into music and art. he spent a lot of time working in live music bars and went through a big emo phase when was a teen so he’s really into rock / screamo / punk / etc. and working in a library he read a lot and has an interest in history, particularly art history, and poetry. very artsy, very into the idea of artistic expression as a therapeutic practice mostly bc that’s what acting is for him. it’s the only way he can allow himself to feel entirely and unapologetically, which is why he’s so damn good at it. 

and uhhh this is sooo long so i’ll stop here but alsjkdfh yeah give me all the plots okay like co-stars, EXES, hook ups, bad influences!!, good influences, flirtationships, enemies, all of it. i’ll probably make an in depth list soon buuut this is hm for now!!! if you read this whole thing you are the mvp mwah.

[losing-my-will]

Unspoken

Words: 3.786

Explicit/Mature

Warning: Menstruation talk.

A/N: I’ve created this monstrosity back in June whilst I was in the middle of one of my worst cramps. I don’t know why but it simply came to my mind. This drabble/one-shot heavily mentions menstruation; so! If you’re not comfortable with this topic I advise you to back off.  No smut, I’m not ready to write that stuff (even if I consumed it like crack) *I also want to believe that woman’s bleedings was treated as a taboo back in Berk*.

I want to apologize every mistake (grammatically) that you might find in this… thing. And keep in mind that English is not my mother tongue *laughs nervously*

Takes place in Rtte.  

Summary: She felt as her womb punches itself and her insides ripple apart, she senses the sick nausea, and the spinning surroundings. And through the suffering, she mutters her prays: “Thor finish this Hel!”

Indeed, he sends help.

 .

.

A bad odor wakes him up; raw fish flesh with a mix of chicken floods his nasals. Confusion crawl on his mind when, once again, the warm breath hit his face, sending the reek of animal’s guts. Though not the worst of the smells, if is compared with the inners of a yak, is not anybody likely first choice for a good-morning-slash-welcome-to-your-nose. True is the repugnance stirred him, and so he completely sat up on the wooden mattress.

The boy’s eyelids slide open and soon his whole vision field came occupied by a blue, scaly head, “Stormfly?” He greeted happy and confused at the same time, “What brought you here, girl? Everything okay?” he petted her snout looking for answers on those pair of anxious, yellows eyes.  

The dragon squeaked, and the boy soon recognizes; it wasn’t a good replied. His current visit started trotting around his room, like she was impatient.

“Is it Toothless?” Eyeing up his fellow friend to make sure he was there, he was; asleep on his rock, not affected by the tumultuousness. Confusion strikes again.

“No…?” the boy continue without understand the eagerness in Stormfly’s behavior.  There was only one answer left, but he doesn’t want to ponder in worry too much.

“Is it… is it Astrid?” He asks carefully. There’s no other reason her dragon would be in his hut. Astrid could have sent Stormfly to search him, like he did countless time with Toothless. Maybe she was stuck in a little trouble. He asks to the dragon, but the creature squeaked again with the same tone. “Stormy… does Astrid has a problem?” He insists.  

She cranes her neck to one side to another whilst stretching her wings, appearing done with his questions. This causes a sleepy Toothless growl in his sleep.

“Okay, okay. I got it. Take me to her.” As soon the words leave him, the dragon wrapped his slim arms with her talons. She takes a leapt and in no minute both were in the entrance of Astrid’s hut. Hiccup is still proud for this subconscious decision. Yes, he had his feelings for her well accepted and well evolved, but when he came to organized Dragon’s Edge, a tingling, distant voice on the back of his mind told him to put Astrid as close to him he could. And he obeyed, leaving it as a normal thing, she was after all his most trusty friend (alongside Toothless) she came as his natural second choice for an advice or simply company. Astrid was and will always be his second-in-command.    

So when the seriousness of this situation finally hit on him, his heart swells and in his stomach placed a sentiment of unease.

He hurried to the open door and hastily runs inside; all other thoughts disappeared except for the one and only coherent one yelling at him for a blonde with sapphire eyes.

“Astrid!” no replied… but whines, “Astrid?” he tries again.

In the heavy silence of the cold hut he distinguish vaguely, if his thoughts could shut up, feminine breathy moans. Hiccup blushes in an instant, “Ahh, Stormfly… why-why did you… brought me here?” The Nadder pushes him to keep going, but the boy was reluctant, “N-no. Girl, A-Astrid has no problem…. I think”

The dragon ignored him once again a proceeded on her insistence. Hiccup could only hold his breath.

‘Fine’

Hiccup conjured all kinds of Vikings songs to block the enticing noises coming from the illuminated loft, concentrate in their words and rhythm so he could hums them to himself while climbing the ladder.

The way up felt like an eternity, but he finally makes it. The sounds didn’t stopped though, so when Hiccup finished with the last steps and planted his metal food on the floor the auburn haired man covered his eyes in a swift move.

“Hiccup!” the maiden-shield shrieked.

“A-Astrid! I’m so sorry, so sorry, forgive me please. Don’t cut any part of my being! I already lost a foot. Stormfly practically kidnapped me and brought me here. I swear to all the gods I didn’t want to interrupt you!” the poor boy stammered like never before, flustered and ashamed and honestly scared to shit, it was just yesterday when he gladly sharpened Astrid’s axe.

It was long moment before any of the young adults said something, not even the crickets were heard. Then a rare bravery came to Hiccup, a boldness that for sure would sign the future of his maleness.

… Or so he thought.

He carefully unwrapped his palms away from his face, but before taken a few steps back just to be sure.  

The sight was… unbelievable.

Astrid Hofferson, best warrior of Berk, ideal shield-maiden with an aim flawless like any adult. Childhood crush and his second-hand. Stood in the middle of her loft on wobbly legs, with a shame imprinted across her beautiful face and her puffy, red eyes. Her hands cupped her crotch with a fierce grasp and… and her bare thighs were smeared in blood.  Thick, crimson blood; all way down to her glued knees. She wasn’t wearing her leggings nor her skirt. The clothes were thrown at the bottom of her bed aside with her metal shoulder pads that leave her only with her blue vest and nothing more, none wrist-covers to make her feel less naked.

“Hiccup” she whispers, a sob manages to escape mingled with her pleads. “Get out” she commands, but no authority stands with it. Another sob build up on her throat and the boy was motionless as a rock, “Hiccup, I said get the fuck off”

“Astrid-”

The girl seems like she find her strength within the mess her mind was at the moment, “What the fuck you’re doing here?”

“Storm-”

“Yes, I know! I heard you the first time”

“Please-” but he was interrupted again.

“Why are you still here?” she barks the question, expecting a quick answer so she could reach her axe and chop his head off. Tears sprinted out and furiously streamed down her flushed cheeks.

“You need help” was his last statement.

“I don’t need the help of anybody” she retorts with an angriness capable to make Stoick the Vast shiver.

With great courage, the Viking boy took two steps close to the young girl, “I heard you”

“Yeah? So your nosy being decided to come up as an intruder?! I’ve been dealing with this since I was twelve. Get out!”

Hiccup ignored all what she was saying, “No”

“Hicc-” she meant to scream at the annoying, stubborn handsome man who; with all good intentions wanted to help her- that she was fine and he could fuck himself. However, her body saw appropriated to contradict her words and make her bend over her belly, “Shit!” she screeches.

“Astrid!” he caught her before the shield maiden could land on her face, “See!” it was his turn to yell at her, “You’re not okay! Quit that attitude of toughness! And accept me!” thank to all the Gods above none of the two have the chance to see the double meaning his words could signify.  

“I don’t know what’s wrong. It’s never this bad-” another rush of pain cut off her apolitically sentence, the agonic yelp tore his heart.  

“This’s not the first time?” Hiccup asks with widen eyes. ‘How many times?’

Astrid shakes her head, “Mmf! N-no!” she struggles to say. Hiccup doesn’t need her to talk if she’s apparently suffering this much.

“It’s okay! It’s okay. Don’t speak, you shouldn’t-”

Nonetheless, the Viking girl was thick in the head just like every proud Viking, “Bath! I need a bath! Please Hiccup” The boy nods. In hope she’s not going to gash his limbs later, he picks her up with one arm holding her back and the other hooked under her knees.

“Astrid, cling your arms around my neck” he softly suggested.

“No” at the mention of such –very scandalous- idea, the shield-maiden spin her head towards him, horror clear as water in the blue of her eyes.

Hiccup tries with a reassuring smile whilst he explains, “Astrid, is for the better”

“How?”

“You’re uncomfortable in this position, you’ll not if you do what I tell you” Is not like he desires to see there like a lecherous creep, though probably that’s exactly what Astrid’s thinking.

“You know nothing” she claims.

“My lady, do you trust me?” Emerald locks with sapphire, sincerity pours over the two Vikings. Of course she trusts him, as much as he does on her. They rely in each other. They’d knowledge for a long time ago that, in the future- they’ll be connected in a level of intimacy above the current. But not yet. And Astrid was afraid of showing that vulnerability, or in general.

“Astrid…” the girl knew she had to do a decision, he was here to offer a hand, and she was more than aware that Hiccup wouldn’t harm her, nor physically or in the emotional ambit. Hiccup wouldn’t take an advantage not even if he were drunk. This bareness and taking-care matter was just for this one night. Just for tonight.

“Okay” she mutters.  

She slowly raises the only hand that protects her intimacy, revealing the source of the red patches now dried on the smooth skin. Her fingertips were too stained with the curious smelly blood.

“My Lady, don’t cry” Hiccup swept away the lonely tear running down with his thumb. Continuing as he wraps a blond lock and twirls it with his pinky; at the corny action Astrid can only giggle.

The first months on the Edge, the group and their dragons found a refreshing spring within the forest of the island, surrounded with big rocks and thick bush to give a better privacy to whoever ever comes there and takes a bath. It was like that for maybe the first six months, with the idea that winter didn’t hit strong in that zone; inside baths weren’t planned. And then the seven month came, they were surprised when a blizzard arrived full force; a unique in their kind.  

Hiccup instantly started the additional construction in all the huts. The first he made was for Astrid (for birthday occasion) a secret gift well hidden under the circumstances. “Hiccup, down the hall, left” Astrid guides. He knows where it is.

They stride down the ladder, with restless thoughts if this was a fantasy, if the Gods were just playing with them out of boredom. Stormfly was behind them, prepared for any duty she’ll be ordered to do. “Sit me on stool” Astrid says sweetly, “the buckets are under that table, they’re already filled with water” The boy smiles, she was responsible as ever. Every rider has to fill their buckets every night, so they’d have water equipped in any case during midnight. Astrid, Fishlegs and he were, as expected, the only ones who remembered.  

In the next minutes, Hiccup rolled up sleeves and started his task in prepare the bath following Astrid’s instructions. The Viking boy gush two water buckets onto the tiny wooden tub, and asked nicely to the blue dragon to light up a small flame underneath. Astrid sighs once she sees steam coming out.

“I think is ready” Hiccup proclaims when he takes out the middle finger he sank previously, confirming the water was heated enough not to burn her skin.  

“Good” she grins excited, desperate to disappear in the warmth of the object-of-her-relieves, though faltered when she felt a spurt. Astrid chewed her bottom lip to calm herself when anew tears treated to dart.

He notice her stiffness; “Astrid, It’s okay” He simpered.

“Hiccup- you know nothing” the shield-maiden gives up. For some reason Hiccup flinches at the disappointed tone in her voice.

“Not if you don’t explain me”

But Astrid clamped shut her lips, not wanting to slip any information. She resolute her inner angst and with a tired sigh rose from the chair, her hands were back to her loins.

“Wanna help?”

She shook her head ‘I can do this alone’. But four steps tell otherwise. Hiccup hastens towards the petite figure who shudders violently on the floor. “No” she pushes him away, trying for a second time.  

“Astrid, please” Both young adults wrestle for a moment.

Why it is so difficult to her? Hiccup questions himself while he seeks for that face contorted in a grimace of discomfort.  

Why he insist so much?  Astrid wants to guess.

“Wait right here” And leaves Astrid alone; kneeling over her own puddle and with an incredible soreness.  Without his presence by her side the shield-maiden surprisingly sees herself much smaller, unprotected… no, she has watched her back since her first axe was giving to her in her fourth birthday.  But this boy here… maybe she has to thank all the gods for this amazing human being by her side; who obviously tries to make the situation less rigid and less awkward, he’s here for her as a good friend, isn’t he?

That same realization makes Astrid talk, “Hurry up”

“Yeah, just… looking… where do you put them? … Oh!”

“What are you doing?” Through the painful flex of her lower muscles she actually laughs. Hiccup’s good vibes sometimes can be very contagious.

“Cloths”

“Oh”  

“Yeah, uh. It’s just, that- well… a lot is coming out of you-”

“Shut up and help me”

“Yes, my lady” With a tenderness he only uses when training dragons- lays a hand on her shoulder blade and the right embraced around her narrow ribcage, both Vikings walked unceremoniously till the awaited bath.

“Don’t look” she snaps. Hiccup turns around; a crack in the opposite wall suddenly becomes more interesting. “Um…” lazy rustles are listens behind him, “I want to- fuck!”

He blushes, “Everything okay there?” How many times she had cursed this night? Well, Clan Hofferson is mostly known for their courage, loyalty, their fearlessness, have generation after generation where the majority born boys –a great (and half unpleasant) surprise in Astrid’s birth- had gave to Berk excellent warriors, and own quite the filthy mouth.

“Y-yes…just- just minor inconveniences”

“If you say so”

More movements combined with low whines and soft groans, more water shiftiness next to pleasure sighs, “Pass me those cloths you collected, please” When turning on his heel, Hiccup gape at the marvelous scene; Astrid in bindings, she had discharged her vest at some point. He shakily handles her the ragged pieces, trying his best not to graze not even his nail with her hot skin. Thankfully the ambiance has fogged a bit, blocking southern view of the tub.

The blonde caught his stare though, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. “What?” he exhales.

“You don’t look like you’re okay” He shrugs as a reply, “Hiccup-!”

“Astrid you’re naked! Wait! Before you kill me” he quickly amends, rising palms like he is surrendering, probably at her mighty rage, “It’s hard to bear, uh… it’ll best if I go”  

“No!” she answers fast.

He halts, furrowing browns and taking further steps towards her, “You want me here?”

“First I want to thank you. Even if this situation is the weirdest, per say bizarre we’ve been together, I can’t ask for a better companion. I’m sure by now you’re conscious of the differences in my treatment with each one of you, and though I care for you all, I-” she sighs, “I trust blindly on you, Hiccup. You show me a possibility to change this world back then when I was only fifthteen. I kept your greatest secret and you confident me the craziest plan I’ve heard, even knowing I could you beat you up for putting your life in the line. I was one of the first and few to see your amputee leg and cure your charred skin … and look over your stump. So thank you, due I’m not allowed to ask the Gods for a better friend because it’s already here, I earned it and …” She beckoned him closer with a gesture of her wrist, “… It’s you”

He kneels besides the tub, fiddling inside the water to hold her hands, “You’re not dying, are you?”

She simpered, “No, Hiccup, I’m not dying” but she scowls, “I thought you knew about this thing. You are amongst us the most highly educated, ya’ know, being future chief and all that…” she waves it of letting her point settle, “… your education was far superior”  

“Exactly, I was educated to be a chief; oratory to refine speeches and geography to carry out the invasions those speeches spoke of”

“But your father never told-”

“Grandfather” he clarifies, “and his father, and his grand-grandfather; all who came before. I was instructed with old books”

“Still, he taught you to read and write at the age of four”

“Yes-”

“Meanwhile, my younger self had have to wait at her seven years old”

He chuckles, “I couldn’t do anything back then”

“Maybe advice your father” she growls and punches him hard.

“I wasn’t even aware” he continues laughing.

“Anyways, I did thought you knew about the blood moons”

“Well” he scratches behind his neck, “when my father gave me the talk of swords and sheds, he mentioned of a time in which men cannot touch woman”

Astrid nods.

“But you’re not going to bleed to death, are you?” His concern anchor a spring in her heart. He is so sweet to her. And Astrid hates when the throbbing grows with such a potent vigor.

“No. You can leave it, seriously. I’m good” and she smiles, “Gothi calls it Blood Moons, they last three to five days, and every woman has it”

“Is there a cure?” Before answering, Astrid burst in an uncontrollable attack of cackles- much to Hiccup bemuse.

“Once you reach the forties, for some reason” she shrugs, “Its stops”

“But you’re hurt”

“Not… quite. Symptoms are unstoppable bleeds, extremely hurtful cramps, swings moods, and more and more bullshit. It also stops when a woman gets pregnant, but comes back when the stage is over” while she briefly explains a sudden urgent to hide her body overwhelms her; Astrid conveys deeper in the water, her breast bindings dampening, “It’s just one of the many obstacles of being a woman. I’ve carried it since I’m twelve. I know what to do when this Hel whips in” she gives him the widen of her smirks, “I comfort myself with the knowledge that this’s just for a short moment”

“You said this time was worse” Hiccup scowls.

“Yes. Gothi once informed me that if I pressure myself too much in training sessions, exists a possibility that my cramps might be worst later”

“And as the stubborn Viking you are, didn’t listen to her”

“You think I’m gonna let this stupidity stalls me?” she spats.

“That’s certainly not you”

“Exactly!”

Both Vikings chuckles, Hiccup’s glad to see Astrid more relaxed, though still baffle that she let him in and care for her, “Thanks for trust so much in me. Even if you’re not entirely naked, I-”

“Confused? Because I’m not ripping you apart?”

He nods.

She shrugs, “I’m just happy. Now I can really say that I have someone who tolerates”

He was about to ask what about Ruff, but he doesn’t want a picture of the female twin bleeding on his brain now, “Perhaps you are wishing for your mother to be here”

“True, but that doesn’t mean that I’ll chose you out the equation”

Hiccup raised his head and thick brows at her. Have he heard well?

“I have to finish scrub. Could you do me favor?”

“Anything”

“Bring clean clothes. There’s a trunk in my room where I keep my stuff. You’ll find a green tunic in plain sight”

“Something else?”

“White bands” He gulps. She is practically asking for undergarments. Hiccup rushed stairs up, concentrating in what he was told; at least this solitude gifts a wee freedom for his thoughts. This whole night has been a perpetual incident after incident. Trust reaffirmed but unspoken words continue hanging between both dragon riders. Soon, he hopes.

“Here it is! Tunic and und- bands” He says whilst holding each in each hand. Water brackets around her toned legs as she shifts within the tub receiving her possessions with an appreciative glint in her eyes

“Thank you. Turn around, please”

“Yep”

A few minutes passes before Astrid finalize, “I’m done”

Hiccup confronts her again. A smile spreads over his freckled face. She looks so cute; soft and cute really, the tunic barely reaches her creamy thighs, and she had released her long, wavy golden hair from her usually eccentric braid. “You’re good, my lady?”

“I feel so tired, but I’m hungry too” explains resting her palms over her tummy.

“I got apples from our last visit to the Northern Market”

She beams, “You do?”

“In my hut”

“Oh, nah, I don’t wanna wait. I have better” She cocked her hip one side; her usual arrogance was coming slowly, but secured.

“What can possibly win apples?”

“Honey”

The pair smirks.

“You proclaimed it, my lady”

“Shut up, dork”

The young adults sat on the table situated close the hearth, which Stormfly has had lighted a while ago, thankfully.

“Listen, I’m gonna be blunt” she sighs, “I don’t think this is going to happen again, but believe me when I say: I’m so, so grateful to have you here. I owe Stormfly a lot”

“No, I’m not going to take you for granted when this night’s over if you think that. A friend’s duty is care for its friends; even if they’re annoying, or spits facts like no end or if they’re stubborn…” he trails it off and Astrid snorts, “I do wish you’ve told me this… particular problem before”

“Well, partially. Not yet”

“Of course, I didn’t intently push you, did I?”

Her bloody-pumping organ broadens once more, “May I hug you?”

He barely nods before he realizes having a shuddering blonde-headed figure within his lanky arms.

“Thank you so much, Hiccup” she whispers against his muscled chest. She thanked not only because she went lack of speak, but because this moments; briefs occasions- were so difficult to her. Her mother understood to a point, but Ingrid Hofferson taught her daughter to be stronger than that, and his father was unbeknownst as any other Viking male. Therefore, her silly mind thought the auburn-haired boy would ran as soon he saw her weakness. But she smacked herself for even let that cross her head; of all the things Astrid Hofferson had learned is that Hiccup Haddock was no traditional man. With that affirmation settling, she snuggled tightly to him.

That night at the Edge, two wild hearts fluttered together at a same tempo.

[sleazygoing]

xxxclusive z-list celebrity interview time!

Tagged by: me bitch! Tagging: this is a long one not everybody might be in the mood for but knock yourself out yo. and tag me so i can see.

Name? “Vernon F. Kennedy, baby, don’t wear it out. The ‘F’ is for... ‘Fernando’. Or ‘Fitzgerald’. Or ‘Fucking’. Depends who you ask. Can I say ‘fucking’? I said ‘fucking’.”

Are you single? “Also depends who you ask. Let’s just say I’m a busy guy.”

Are you happy? "Like a clam. Hell, I’m happier than a stray cat in a buffet joint dumpster.”

Are you angry?  "I don’t like, believe in anger. I don’t think it’s productive. You can open a lot of things without having to take a crowbar to ‘em, you know what I’m saying? Forgive and forget and all that stuff. I’m trying to keep my karmic rap sheet in check so I come back as something good in the next life. I’m shootin’ for something big and carnivorous.”

Are your parents still married? “Yeah, no, it’s not like that.”

NINE FACTS –

Birth Place? “A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. Buy my autobiography.”

Hair Color? "I’m calling it... spiced hazelnut. It sounds nicer than brown but maybe goin’ a little gray around the muzzle.”

Eye Color?  “Green and very pretty. But I’m not losing the shades because I’m... jet lagged.”

Birthday? “February 22nd. Write that down. My star sign is Pisces, 69-ing fish.Same as Mr. Rogers, Chuck Norris, and Barbie. Now those are three American heroes right there.”

Mood? "Mood ring says... restless. I say just peachy.”

Gender?  “Fella.”

Summer or winter?  "Summer. I like it where it’s hot but not George Foreman hot. Like a lizard. I reckon I could be happy just about anywhere with a little sunshine, a balcony, and a pool.”

Morning or afternoon? "I’m a morning person. Up and at ‘em.”

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE ? –

Are you in love? "Yeah baby! I’m high on life!”

Do you believe in love at first sight? "I think you’d get a straighter answer out of a Magic 8-Ball. I don’t know! But put it this way, I know love, and I know eye-candy when I see it. Both are very good.”

Who ended your last relationship? "It’s a nuanced situation that I guess you could say comes down to... creative differences. Sometimes it just doesn’t work out. She says ‘irresponsible’, I say ‘spontaneous’. It’s just one of those things, chief. Just the way she goes.”

Have you ever broken someone’s heart? "I don’t like, believe in... that. But I’m no angel. Nobody is. We’ve all disappointed people. Onwards and upwards.”

Are you afraid of commitments? "I love commitment! But a fortune cookie told me not to put all my eggs in one basket.”

Have you hugged someone within the last week? "You know it. I’m a hugger. Like a friggin’ koala. Hug your friends, fellas.”

Have you ever had a secret admirer? "If you’re out there, secret admirer, you’d better hop on that carpe diem shit right quick and start throwing rocks at my window, honey bunny. I want red roses and something shiny so I know it’s real.”

Have you ever broken your own heart? "I’d never do me like that. I 'm lookin’ out for numero uno and treating him right.”

SIX CHOICES –

Love or lust? "Makin’ love is love.”

Lemonade or iced tea? “Long Island iced tea. Start the day right. Or very, very wrong. I’d say it’s fifty-fifty, but I like those odds.”

Cats or Dogs? "I love both. But dogs are easier to read, you know? They get it. They have people faces. My ex-wife has one of those cats with no fur like the lovechild of a raw chicken and one of those badboys from Gremlins 2, and I can’t lie to you, he kinda gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

A few best friends or many regular friends? "I have a lot of friends.”

A wild night out or romantic night in? "I like to party. Take that how you will.”

Day or night? "I mean, they’re both like, kind of the same if you think about it.”

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS –

Been caught sneaking out? “Oh yeah. And don’t forget sneaking in.”

Fallen down/up the stairs? "I have a pretty good ‘falling down stairs’ story but I’m actually not at liberty to tell it for legal reasons.”

Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? "Fifty million US buckaroos in cold, hard, sexy cash.”

Wanted to disappear? "Yeah but in a fun way.”

FOUR PREFERENCES –

Smile or eyes? "Smile!”

Shorter or Taller? "It’s whatever, really. I’m an even 5′9′’, but that’s the only department they call me average in.”

Intelligence or Attraction? "Thank God I’m pretty, that’s all I’m saying.”

Hook-up or Relationship? "I’m easy.”

FAMILY –

Do you and your family get along? “I’m a lucky guy like that.”

Would you say you have a “messed up life”? “Nuh-uh. I’m livin’ the dream. Lucky guy.”

Have you ever ran away from home? "Slightly.”

Have you ever gotten kicked out? “You betcha.”

FRIENDS –

Do you secretly hate one of your friends? "What, the whole ‘keep your friends close, enemies closer’ shtick? No, that’s not me. I think a better idea is: ‘keep your friends close and your enemies as far away as possible, preferably’.”

Do you consider all of your friends to be good friends? “Yeah. Mostly. Sorta. Sometimes.”

Who is your best friend? "Diamonds ain’t just for girls.”

Who knows everything about you? "You kidding? I don’t even know everything about me. That’s life.”

[multimetaverse]

Andi Mack 2x24 Review

Bought, Lost or Stolen was probably one of the best written episodes we’ve seen in 2b but they’re handling Buffy’s crush very poorly.

Positives:

It was nice to see Jonah act confident and mature around Walker, which is what I thought would happen, if he makes a scene at the art festival I doubt Andi would agree to go on their first official date the very next ep. 

It was also nice to see Jandi actually having a good time and it seems like a lot of their communication issues are resolved. I’m still 70% sure that Wandi is endgame but this ep and the next could very well set the stage for endgame Jandi.

Walker Brodsky now has a last name so he joins TJ Kippen in the coveted important recurring characters/love interest category.

Walker was very good in this ep. He was polite with Andi but also showed the right amount of pettiness that a 13/14 year old would after being rejected and basically told to never contact her again. 

There’s clearly unfinished business on Andi’s part and her scenes with Walker made it clear that she still has some feelings for him. I also noticed that she didn’t seem as happy as she said she was when she was with Jonah at the spoon. I also think Walker saying his portrait of Andi wasn’t for sale is also very telling that he hasn’t let go of his feelings either.

It would be a very bizarre choice imo to have Walker meet Bex and Cece and make a good first impression in front of a prize winning portrait of their daughter and granddaughter if he was meant to be Buffy’s crush. 

I was 95% sure that Juffy would be endgame before this ep and now I’m 70% sure. It really all comes down to whether Terri wants or is forced to make Jandi endgame. 

As @tj-smitten pointed out to me, Buffy’s hair twirl actually starts before she talks to Walker as she is looking at Jonah walking off with Andi (about 15:48 if you want to see for yourself). 

Of course she keeps twirling her hair when she talks to Walker so whether Cyrus is right or not is kept somewhat ambiguous. Certainly her brief conversation with Walker seemed flirty which is a point in Wuffy’s favour. However, the fact that she rolls her eyes when Cyrus suggests she has a crush on Walker but gets angry and shuts down the conversation after Cyrus brings up Jonah is a point in Juffy’s favour as is the fact that she was really pushing how cute Jonah and Andi were together at the spoon.

I’ve talked a lot about why I think it’s Juffy not Wuffy but another way to look at it is that the show is lying about one option and I think it is far easier for the show to lie about Wuffy considering that there was literally no build up.

I’m glad they disposed of the Bowie and Miranda relationship as the show long stopped pretending that Bexie wouldn’t be endgame. It’s actually pretty realistic that the break up would be caused by disagreements about parenting, one of the main reasons why 2nd marriages have a much higher divorce rate is that spouses will have their own separate batches of kids and the stress of trying to parent or co-parent other people’s kids in addition to your own causes a lot of tension.

Amber was actually great in this ep, this is first substantive plot she’s had since Snorpion. They seem to be kinda drawing some parallels between Cyrus and Amber’s friendship and Cyrus and TJ’s relationship, perhaps to make Buffy more accepting of it? It’s hard to tell what role they want for Amber going forward as she wasn’t in S2 much, probably won’t be in S3 much (Emily got cast in a movie), and isn’t romantically connected to anyone like TJ and Walker are. 

Celia’s ‘’she’s dead’’ line was hilarious as was the Amber/Cyrus staring montage as Buffy was about to eat her burger.

Celia seems to be taking the collapse of her marriage well.

Negatives:

Terri probably thought that the ‘mystery’ of Buffy’s crush would be a great hook to get people coming back for S3 but I think she’s sadly mistaken. She’s gone about this Buffy crush plot in almost the worst possible way. Buffy is now either the other woman in Jandi’s relationship or Wandi’s relationship. Last week pissed off the many Jandi shippers in the audience by presenting Buffy as a threat and now this week will piss off Wandi shippers by posing Buffy as a threat. 

The other reason the show is delaying revealing Buffy’s crush is because that would reveal whether Jandi is endgame but all the casual audience will see is a last minute plot line that is being artificially prolonged. There’s just no way that Buffy wouldn’t deny having a crush on Jonah if she didn’t have one or deny having a crush on Walker if she didn’t have one. 

We know Walker isn’t in any more eps this season so I’m curious to see if Buffy will be allowed to have scenes with Jonah.

As nice as it was to see more Amber development, what is the point? Her plot feels like it would have fit better several eps ago but of course it couldn’t fit there because the show decided to slow the plot down for 6eps to deal with Buffy’s move. It really feels tacked on, like the writers realized that they had dropped Amber’s plot and had to cram in it at the end. And its’s great that she’s being redeemed but it seems like they’re focusing on her and Cyrus and Buffy rather than Jonah who is the person she actually wronged and needs to apologize to. 

Also does Amber have health insurance if her dad is still unemployed? Hopefully her mom has health insurance through her job

It was a bad writing choice to keep referring to Dr. Sharon Frank (Cyrus’ step mom) as his mom especially when Cyrus has always referred to her as his step mom before. 

It was also very odd to see Sharon and Norman working from their homes. It seems like a potential safety risk and also opens up the door for the kind of privacy violations that we saw tonight. 

As glad as I was to see Miranda and Morgan leave the cynical writing that turned both of them into villains so we would forgive and forget Bowie and Bex constantly flirting left a bad taste in my mouth. It also makes Bowie seem like a total idiot for liking and trusting Miranda but that’s a price the writers are willing to pay to smooth things over for their Bexie endgame. 

Looking Ahead:

The Jandi trampoline date looks very fun and I’m hoping that the reason why Jonah is going to be busy the next two weekends is because he’s getting real therapy for his panic attacks. 

Not really sure why they’re introducing a Buffy/Amber feud when they were cordial with each other tonight. Possibly something to do with Amber’s treatment of Jonah? We might also get some more digging into why Cyrus and TJ are friends.

I expect most of Jonah’s remaining scenes to be next ep so I’m very curious to see what happens when he’s alone in the dark in the red jacket. 

[rosie-anon]

Don’t Touch Me

The first of possibly many submissions for @robot-anon ‘s competition! There were five prompts for writing submissions, and me being me I immediately took it as a challenge and used all five of them in one. I regret nothing.

Prompts Used:

Have a blind or deaf main character

Childhood friends to lovers AU

”Don't touch me… Don’t ever fucking touch me again.”

Pick a crackship and write it seriously

”Just shut up and kiss me.”

Ship: Spot Conlon x Tommy Boy

Warnings: Angst, swearing

When Tommy Boy lost his eyes when he was ten he didn’t think it was as great a thing as the other boys lamented it being. Who would? It’s one thing to be pushed down and thrown to the ground, but it’s a whole nother thing when you hit a wall so hard the world goes fuzzy and doesn’t come back. In the end, though, it nearly doubled his sales once he got the hang of hocking headlines without being able to see his customers. It also helped him catch the attention of one Spot Conlon, an up-and-coming Brooklyn newsie who wasn’t too happy that Tommy Boy’s helplessness shtick was attracting all the customers.

With the reputation Spot already had at age eleven Tommy Boy should have been worried, but Tommy Boy was twelve and too cocky to back down when he couldn’t win. Spot’s bravado was nothing to him and as soon as the blind boy was sure he had judged the distance correctly he gave a solid right hook that not only impressed Spot but also knocked him on his ass. That one interaction was enough to spark a strange but resilient friendship between the Manhattan and Brooklyn boys.

“Ain’t completely blind, Conlon. Just can’t, ya know, see.”

“Yeah, sure, Tommy. That makes perfect sense.”

“Ah, fuck you. You know what I mean. ‘S like lookin’ through thick glass, I guess. I know you’se is in front of me, I can see the sun and all that. I know you’re wearing red.” His voice trailed off. “Can’t see your face, but I always like it when you wear red.” Spot didn’t respond and for a moment Tommy Boy worried that he shouldn’t have said that last bit. He’s only known Spot a few years, and he only saw him when he came over to Sheepshead with Race, he couldn’t possibly know how Spot was going to react.

“I’da wore it more if youda just told me that,” Spot said quietly and Tommy Boy froze, trying to figure out if he’d heard right, but he couldn’t because Spot was so close that he could feel the other boy’s breath across his face and his brain wasn’t working quite right.

“Yeah?” Tommy Boy asked, trying to steady his breathing.

“Yeah,” Spot said, and this close Tommy Boy could see him smile. “If I’da known you didn’t just see dark I woulda cleaned up more,” he teased, and Tommy Boy smiled back. He thought about saying something about the smudged dirt he thought he could make out on Spot’s cheek, but instead he swallowed his fear and mustered all the courage he had.

“Just shut up and kiss me, Conlon.”

And he did.

But that was then and this was now. Five years is a very long time and now was very different than then. Now they were up against Goliath and Tommy Boy was nursing bruised ribs he wouldn’t have had if Spot had just agreed to help from the start.

“Don’t touch me,” Tommy Boy spat, jerking away from the hand that tried to entwine with his own bloodied one, “Don’t ever fucking touch me again.” Over the years, his eyes had gotten worse and worse and even though he wanted to tell himself he could still see the wine red of Spot’s shirt he knew that he couldn’t.

“Tommy Boy, hey,” Spot said, but Tommy Boy shook his head. There was no forgiving this.

“No.” He backed away from Spot’s voice and into the table behind him. For once, he was grateful he had never seen Spot’s face, because if he had then he might have been able to picture an expression on it just as pitiful as Spot sounded just then.

“Tommy, please. Youse of all people should know that I didn’t have no choice. I got kids I gotta think about, it ain’t just about you. Brooklyn’s my responsibility, I’se gotta be lookin’ out for my own boys, not Jack Kelly’s,” Spot defended. Tommy Boy just shook his head though and turned away from him.

“Fuck you, Spot,” Tommy Boy said bitterly. “Go preach that gospel shit to someone who really thinks you’se Patron Saint a’ Brooklyn, cause that someone ain’t me.”