#whatever is going on with false sounds like it goes insanely hard though

[fudgecake-charlie]

sorry for the lack of art! I’ve been really feeling it and I don’t really have the energy to get on my laptop too much and draw. please take this silly grian laughing his ass off as an apology [+ rambles in the og tags whoops]

[ryoceann]

Hi. Itk here. Believe me, don't, doesn't matter. Thought I'd drop (after you summoned ha) by given the chaos and try to enlighten the ones who choose to believe me, as much as I'm capable of.

The first thing I wanna say is: stop trying to figure out their relationship. You most likely never will. Fans are stuck on both extremes, when the actuality of it is far more in the middle (perhaps even up or down and all around ha). It's complex and strange and not at all "normal" (as normal as they could be, anyways).

It's not as simple as "oh they're just a closeted couple who engage in bearding and have kids and behind closed doors they're just a regular, old married couple and a big, happy rainbow family".

Doesn't sound like itk info, believe me, I get that but observing the fandom I'd say it almost is because most fans simply hang on extreme simplistic ideas of what their relationship is.

Second thing I'd like to say and unfortunately seems like it's not at all obvious but: do not believe anything they share publicly. Not saying they're lying compulsively, but they are public figures and they have a lot at stake to just casually drop the actual truth of any given situation.

Just don't. The same salt you have regarding itks, have towards them. It'd do you some good...Believe me. Unless you are involved in the entertainment or political life, you cannot even begin to fathom what it's really like, the level of manipulation, falsehood and well, overall deviation of it. It's quite disturbing tbh. So just always take whatever's said and shown with a good amount of salt. With public people hardly anything is accidental or casual.

I think the most prominent question now is...Why? Why would they do something like that? Regardless if you have the ingenuity to believe the little scene they made or not...Still, the question lingers.

With my level of "in the knowness" I cannot for sure say the real reason, yet from the pieces I've collected so far, seems to be a multiple gain scheme. It was a high risk, they were well aware, and it paid out in the way they were expecting, minus small bumps here and there. But overall it seemed to have worked in their favor. How in the hell, one would ask?

Believe me, I used my best sneaky capabilities to find out exactly why but they were smart enough to keep this one locked tight, minus a few loose lips. And from those all I've heard was that "whatever the purpose was, it worked out".

As weird as it may sound to the innocent mind, it's actually not at all, given that even leaked nudes are not at all leaked or accidental, and those tend to (at least in the past) get immense amount of backlash. It's not the first time famous folks fake a fight, surely won't be the last.

A lot goes into public image, it's not black and white as "well but it looked bad on Jensen", "it looked bad on the prequel", etc. You'd be surprised as how little this truly matters given the level of manipulation they are able to pull on the public. And well, even with them...It happens all the time. Both made mistakes far worse than just "not telling my bestie about my new project" and fans would eventually let that go and put them back on the pedestal.

So just remember, always: not in the industry? then don't judge anything because you simply do not understand how it works.

Another piece of itk information I can give besides "this was planned and it worked" is: they are fine. From what I've heard they are not fighting over it or going through anything more dramatic than what they usually have been going through ever since they met haha.

So just sit back and chill out. Breathe, read fanfiction and remember that we will never truly get answers, because even what comes out of their mouths are most of the time carefully thought out and directed to have a specific meaning and effect (why do you think Jared mumbles and rambles so much?).

Another interesting piece of itk: you know how they always say they never fight? Even though that sounds insanely hard to believe even if they were just friends because who knows someone for that long and is constantly together and never fights? Unlikely, right? Yes, as obvious as that was. But unfortunately a lot of you seem to believe that, given the level of shock you had for this little twitter feud (as fake as it was). Yeah. They fight. A lot.

They fight as much as individuals in their situation would. Like I said, not at all what most people absentmindedly seem to think it is. They go through a lot. Way more than anyone who isn't in a similar situation would understand. It's messy, although they try their best to make it simpler in the ways they can.

On top of being in a very complex situation, they both have strong personalities and one of them is quite hard to "pin down". So altercations happen a lot, but they know how to deal, and they are exceptionally good at making sure that doesn't interfere in their work (oh well, at least not any work that doesn't benefit from intense emotional exchanges, anyways 😉...chemistry isn't something random, you know? haha).

I find it quite...interesting (to put it nicely) that a lot of hats easily believe they are a couple that lies constantly about almost every aspect of their lives, yet, they cannot believe they would fake a social media narrative. It makes no sense whatsoever.

It'd do you all good to be a little less tendentious and look at them as, you know...Humans? They are not what they seem to be, just as you guys also take in different versions of yourselves in different situations, they do too. And don't be so hopelessly naive to actually believe they see fans as "hashtag family". This is their work. And as grateful as they are for supporters, they certainly do not consider them family. To the point of never lying and trusting you with their life.

I'm sure they love their fans, but come on, saying they would never lie because that's mean to fans is just beyond naive. They've been doing it all along and oh, another interesting info? They don't think they're doing anything wrong.

Yeah, sounds weird, you'd think they'd feel guilty. But again, unless you were media trained, you'd never get it.

From years now if there's one consistent info I've gotten was this: they don't feel obligated to tell you anything. They believe they are doing "what they are supposed to do, the right thing for everyone involved".

So. Yeah. And hell, they are right about not being obligated to say anything about anything, I guess.

Well, I hope that was helpful or at least entertaining. It's hard to share info without accidentally making it obvious who I am for the lurkers (sure you guys were well aware that they lurk around the fandom). But it's safe because as long as I don't provide evidence, I'm fine. Just walking a thin line between sharing and not sharing something too specific that would be easy fir them to know who has that info and although they can't do anything against itks, they can manage to cut us off somehow and I enjoy having access lol, so that'd be a bummer.

Anyways, take itks and J2 themselves with a ton of salt haha! You are lovely, btw, you seem very kind and I enjoy your blog very much! much love!

itk anon everything you said was <333 and i agree with like almost all of it. very nice analysis and ask thank you ! i don't always believe everything j2 put out but the whole stunt being a false narrative just seems wrong so idk what to make of it. regardless i myself can sometimes get carried away in my star-struck love of j2. and i am a tinhat so well :) and now they look to be really good and taking a break from here was well worth it <3

''You are lovely, btw, you seem very kind and I enjoy your blog very much! much love!'' i love u so much hope u have a great day !

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

,,may I ask for a continuation of the Zedaph and EX angst? (I love your writing btw!)

thank you!!! i love this series so much (can i call it a series at this point? probs lol)

part 1  part 2 

…

  It’s been a week since Zedaph was found in EX’s lair, and even though nobody has said anything, he can tell the rest of the server is keeping a closer eye on him than normal. Of course, Tango and Impulse find any excuse to hang out with or near him, but he also gets sideways glances from Xisuma, he gets watched by Wels and False from a distance, he gets random visits from Grian and Scar who “happen to be in the area”. He knows why, too; they’re the five people on the server with evil counterparts. They know what it’s like to be traumatised by an evil clone. The difference is EX isn’t Zedaph’s clone. But that hardly even matters at this point. 

  One day, Zedaph finally manages to shake off the people watching him and flies off towards the mining desert. He would normally take the nether hub but the longer flight will give him time to think of what he’s going to do when he gets there.

  All too soon, he lands in the mining desert near a large sand dune and digs out the entrance to the secret lair. The door behind it is still unlocked. Taking a deep breath, Zedaph enters the lair. 

  It looks exactly how it did the first time he came in here, except the iron door is gone from when Impulse bashed it down to rescue him and a few bits and pieces are missing from the table in the corner. 

  It’s hard being back in here after what happened. Every second he spends in here reminds him of the agony of the person he thought was his closest ally betraying him and leaving him here to die. 

  After a while, Zedaph approaches the safe under the table and twists the wheel absently, not expecting it to open. But it does. The wheel spins easily and the door clicks open.

  Inside is a single photograph. Zedaph picks it up, and his chest twists painfully. It’s a photo of him and EX, in costume: a selfie Zedaph took of the two of them after their first successful mission. 

  “Didn’t expect to see you back here.”

  Zedaph whirls round to find EX themself standing in the doorway, arms folded. “Oh my g- What are you doing here?!”

  “I thought this’d be the last place you’d come back to, after everything that happened here.”

  “After you abandoned me!” Zedaph snaps. “And left me to starve to death! You even sent a message from MY communicator telling my friends to leave me alone so they wouldn’t find me for days!”

  “I’m not gonna try and justify that,” EX replies steadily. “I did it because I wanted you to die, Zedaph.”

  The coldness in their words hits Zedaph like a knife to the chest. “Why?! How could you do that to me?! We were partners; I trusted you! And all this time you were a villain?”

  “Yes. I befriended you because I knew the best way to cover up my activities was to get close to the hero investigating them. I was always gonna backstab you at some point. Just didn’t expect it to be when you found my hideout.”

  “I… I don’t understand how you can be so casual about betraying someone who trusted you so implicitly.” 

  “Simple.” EX’s voice hardens even more. “I never trusted or cared for you.”

  Zedaph’s stomach churns and he takes a step back, trying his hardest to hold back tears. “So what now? Are you gonna kill me?”

  EX wordlessly steps forward, causing Zedaph to move back again, bumping against the wall behind him. “G-Get away from me.” 

  But EX takes another step forward.

  “I-I said get away!” Zedaph’s voice cracks as he stares at EX with fearful eyes. “People know I’m in here!”

  EX moves fast and slams Zedaph into the wall, gripping him by the neck. Zedaph chokes at the sudden pressure on his windpipe. 

  “But “people” wouldn’t get here in time to save you, would they?” EX taunts quietly. “Even if you could send an SOS on that communicator of yours right now, you’d have respawned already and I’d be long gone by the time anyone even made it halfway here.”   Zedaph cries out, gasping for air. He’s terrified; EX is about to kill him, right here, right now. In a much more vicious way than simply leaving him to starve.

  “HEY!”

  EX’s head jerks round. 

  Through Zedaph’s quickly fading vision, he can see two figures in the doorway. Tango, the one who had yelled out, is holding a sword, while Impulse wields an axe. 

  “Let him go!” Tango snarls. “You’ve got five seconds before I stab you in the head!”

  EX hesitates, his grip on Zedaph momentarily tightening. They recognise that Impulse and Tango are blocking the door, and if they don’t release Zedaph now, they WILL get killed. 

  Zedaph lets out a muted cry at the pain in his neck.

  This sound sends Tango over the edge. His eyes flaming red, he charges at EX and swings his sword, forcing EX to let go of Zedaph and dodge to the side. As Impulse rushes to catch Zedaph as he collapses, EX ducks under Tango’s second attack and bolts for the door. 

  However, Tango swings his sword for the third time and manages to catch EX in the calf. It’s a glancing blow, but it’s enough to slow EX down. 

  Tango discards his sword and takes off after EX. He manages to tackle them to the ground on the sand outside the lair, but one of EX’s flailing fists catches him in the jaw and he loses his grip on EX. Wincing at the taste of blood in his mouth, Tango rolls over, panting hard, but EX has already vanished. 

  Cursing to himself, Tango goes back down into the secret lair and finds Zedaph sitting propped against the wall, breathing hard and massaging his throat. Impulse is kneeling next to him, rubbing his shoulder soothingly. 

  Now that he knows Zedaph is alive and safe, all of Tango’s fear and adrenaline explodes. 

  “What the hell were you thinking, Zed?!” he yells. “Coming back to THIS place all by yourself! What if they’d killed you, huh?! Have you gone absolutely insane?!”

  Zedaph gazes at him numbly for a moment before dissolving into tears. 

  “Oh…” Tango dithers, regretting everything at that moment. “I-I…”

  “I’m so sorry,” croaks Zedaph. “Thank you for saving me b-but I’m sorry I put you guys in danger. A-And Tango, you’re hurt because of m-me. I d-didn’t know they’d be here; I j-just wanted to see this place again.” 

  Impulse gently embraces his friend. “Oh, Zed… You’ve gone through so much in the last week. Why would you want to come back here?”

  Zedaph just buries his face in Impulse’s shoulder and says nothing. 

  Tango appears at Zedaph’s other side and joins the hug. “I’m sorry, Zed. This must’ve been so hard for you. Whatever you need, just let us know and we’ll be there. Okay?”

  Zedaph sniffles again. He can’t stop thinking about the emptiness in EX’s eyes when they told him they never cared for him. It’ll haunt him for a long, long time. But at least he’s not alone. He doesn’t have to deal with this by himself. 

  “Okay.”

[joonkorre]

what canst thou give?

@drarrymicrofic prompt: caught

yall cant expect me to watch the witch (2015) and not go insane trying to fit a quote into my work. also, this is the first time i ever write something veering into the 15+ category. so. go easy on me lmao

AO3

“Wouldst thou like to live deliciously?”

Draco’s breath catches in his throat.

“But only if you want to, of course. No pressure at all.”

It’s sweet, that tone, as sweet and numbing as the saliva dripping down his nape. If Draco is someone else, an unfortunate bastard even more miserable than he is, he might have believed it.

“I don’t know,” he replies, the unnatural chill on the back of his bare neck too visceral a feeling. Too real. “I think having to choose between that and rotting in a back alley is at least a little bit pressuring.”

“Not too much, though?”

“Oh, no, never.”

“Good,” Edmund whispers. At this point, Draco wouldn’t be surprised if that’s not even his real name, “good.”

Draco stays quiet. With smooth jazz crooning through the walls of bars and eateries to complete the easygoing ambiance of a mid-autumn night in Muggle London, it seems to be the least likely time of the year to find oneself bargaining for their life. But here he is.

“Now,” Draco’s pulse jackrabbits so quickly he can hear it. A delighted chuckle leaks into the night. “Your answer, please.”

When he doesn’t give one, the canines on his exposed shoulder threaten to break the skin. Unexpectedly, they lift off.

“You might want to think it through a little faster, doll,” the large hand pinning Draco’s wrists against the brick wall clenches around them, then drifts down his chest. Lays flat on his quivering stomach, a persistent pressure against Draco’s thrifted bomber jacket. “We have an audience.”

Draco sucks in the stale air with a hiss. He’s pulled his date this far into the alley because he didn’t want curious onlookers as they snog. Bad fucking idea that was. Still, the thought of strangers witnessing this horrid moment fills him with dread. They can’t do anything to help anyway, only to humiliate him even more.

“What—”

“Don’t look,” Edmund nips his ear lobe, “unless you want further mortification. You mortals are ashamed of the strangest things, I can smell it on you.”

Heat rushes through his body. Draco blinks, dizzy with… with something. He doesn’t know whether he wants to rebel, turn his head, and meet the stranger’s gaze head-on, or just rest his forehead against the grimy bricks and find reluctant comfort in Edmund’s instructions.

“What do you,” Draco murmurs, sour notes of alcohol floating back into his nose, “what do you propose I do then? Just stand here and wait for them to get lost?”

“You can make it easy for yourself and say no,” Edmund says.

Those canines are back on the base of his neck. The arm that isn’t wrapped around his middle slithers across his chest, calloused palm an anchor on his shoulder blade. Draco wonders if this looks intimate, possessive—protective, even—to their observer, when he simply feels choked. A mouse gripped within the gentle loops of a snake’s body.

“You’d look like you’re swooning in my arms while I drink from your,” the tip of Edmund’s nose travels up the length of Draco’s neck, ending at where his baby hairs are matted with cold sweat, “gorgeous, delicious essence. And it’d only take a blink of an eye. Our little voyeur would never know.”

“Merlin, can’t I have a single good date?” Draco grits out. “Just fucking say blood.”

“Oh, but you’re no fun,” Edmund says. “Being poetic has its merits, I think. Makes life interesting.”

“Life will be even more interesting when I get to live it, actually.”

The hand on his shoulder takes its time trailing to his face, and when it does, it tilts his jaw to the side. Draco’s eyes automatically slide shut.

“Oh, you will. Once you get used to the ‘undead’ part of it, life will be a joy to live.”

His hands shift against the grimy bricks, one seeking familiarity and warmth as it grips his other wrist, grounding him.

“You must’ve realized by now how anxious I am to have you by me, by us. If I’m not, I’d just pick you up from a club, drink from you, leave you behind that dumpster over there, and you’d wake up feeling hungover with no memory of me,” Edmund goes on, his face close. If Draco tries, he reckons he can swallow down the intoxicating spice of cologne wafting against his cheek. “But I’m not doing that, now, am I?”

Perhaps it’s not even cologne, perhaps it’s all Edmund.

“You see, the blood of mortals is our life force, yes, but few of them ever smell and taste like anything more than diluted shite. Blood like yours, though, that’s rare. Power like yours. That raw, untapped, repressed power hiding under masks and marks. Given enough time, enough resources, it can be brought forth, and you can prosper.

“It’d be a shame if all of what you are made of withers into nothing, don’t you think?”

Draco thinks and thinks. It’s all one can do when they’re held so firmly, quite literally stuck between a rock and a hard place. A bead of sweat trickles down his temple. Edmund kisses it away with false reverence, dotting another kiss behind Draco’s ear. Draco would have jolted if he has any energy left in him.

He realizes it now. Ever since the day Edmund’s gaze lingered a second too long, it was over. There is no one left to remember him, and if he ‘makes it easy’ for himself and says no, nothing will change. Sooner or later, he’d die without a purpose, alone.

What if he eliminates dying from the equation altogether?

He realizes it now. There has never been any choice.

Only one foggy, crooked path forward.

“Yes.”

Draco’s eyes open with a heavy drag, allowing in but a sliver of light. In the misty blurriness, he sees a smirk. One stark-white canine pulls the bottom lip inward, pierces through papyrus skin.

Draco’s vision darkens as red lips touch his. His nose clogs up for a brief moment, overwhelmed by the onslaught of scents and tastes. With every languid swipe of a clever tongue, copper as bitter as Charon’s obol forces its way into his mouth. A sharp needle of pain pricks his bottom lip. Draco flinches, tries to take a step back but the hand on his jaw keeps him close. One long finger sneaks into his mouth, prying it apart.

Swallowing the harsh tang of iron down, a rich, foreign sweetness floods his senses. It’s the nectar of late-June peaches and lingonberry syrup swirled in chamomile, coating his palate with a luscious glaze. A low moan escapes as his muscles relax. If it’s not for the steady hand on his stomach, Draco’s knees would have hit the dirty ground already.

“There we go,” Edmund whispers. His hands guide Draco to lean against him, back to chest, sending intermittent shivers to rack through Draco’s body. It’s cold, so cold, but he can’t pull away, just lets Edmund takes whatever he wants to take. “Good boy.”

“Don’t call me that,” Draco gathers enough of his declining wit to argue. “Sounds like you’re calling a dog.”

“Ah, you’re cute. The Sisters will adore you.”

“Sisters...” Draco says, the furrow of his brow easily smoothened by another leisurely kiss.

“Sisters,” Edmund says. The hand on Draco’s jaw edges to his neck, thick fingers adding a slight squeeze to the vulnerable valley on either side of his Adam’s apple. Draco sighs into Edmund’s mouth. “Surely you don’t think there’s only one of us out there?”

Not very certain of what to say, Draco purses his lips instead. Edmund lets out an amused hum and indulges him, sucking on his bottom lip. It’s good, so good, until it becomes sickening, like raiding the entirety of Fortescue’s stockroom. Being a creature of the night is rapidly losing its novelty.

“Okay, enough, enough, thanks,” he says, tapping the muscular arm around him and turning away. Edmund only continues his little ministration below Draco’s jaw.

He doesn’t know how long his eyes have been closed, so he opens them once more. It’s like… it’s like he’s been floating on thick water and is only recently dragged into shore. Rubbing the creak out of his neck, Draco squints.

Past Edmund’s sturdy form and angular lines, out in the main street, the thin crowd of pedestrians pass by in chattering groups and pairs. Opposite to the alley, however, one lone figure stands just out of reach of the street lamp. The yellowish light merely suggests their existence as they lean against the restaurant Draco and Edmund exited from earlier. The bright tell-tale red of a cigarette butt is visible but other than that, no detail to be discerned. Looks like someone who’s just minding their own business.

“You must think yourself funny,” Draco says, arching his neck to accommodate the kisses peppering his skin, “using my own shame against me. I doubt people even remember there’s an alleyway here.”

“Don’t forget that when a being has lived for as long as I have, has accumulated this much power, nine times out of ten, he knows what he’s saying. I’m powerful enough to catch the scent of every mortal walking by, even know if they’re actually mortals or not. Our little voyeur? He’s still here. He’s watching. He’s waiting for you, doll.”

Edmund pauses, then:

“And whether he’s a mortal? That remains to be seen.”

Draco pushes away as far as Edmund’s firm grasp allows, which is only a few centimeters away. Whatever his blood did with Draco’s own, it snaps him awake with startling clarity just as swiftly as when it’s reduced him to a little more than a rag doll. Everything is so sharp it’s almost disgusting, like his eyeballs are gouged out, scrubbed clean, then shoved back in again. Draco locks his legs, willing himself not to stumble.

“That makes no goddamn sense,” he says.

“You don’t feel them now, but wait until they set in,” Edmund tries to tug him back, shrugging when he doesn’t obey. “Your abilities. We’ll go back to the House of Collective tonight and when you wake up tomorrow, you’ll know what I’m talking about.”

“I,” Draco says. “Please say that again. With actual information.”

“So demanding,” Edmund leans back and looks at Draco like he’s seeing him for the first time, a hint of humor in his serene demeanor. “The House of Collective is where the majority of us in Britain frequent and reside. The newly Turned are brought there to be with their brethren. Trying to deal with these new abilities alone is what makes them go Rogue and lands them on the front page. Think Jeannette McDermott, the poor woman.”

Jeannette McDermott drained and devoured 6 people in a single weekend. The Aurors got to her first before the news outlets. Being a shut-in and hating being perceived in general—Merlin knows how she got bitten in the first place—the only pictures ever taken of her as an adult was of her mangled body, torn by her own claws and twisted into stillness. It was a once-in-a-century scandal that paralyzed Wizarding Europe for 2 months straight.

Draco frowns. “I’ve always wondered. How did she—why wasn’t she brought back to the House, then?”

“That’s what irresponsible Turning looks like. If we want to Turn someone, it must be carefully considered and planned, for there must always be more prey than predators. Such is the law of nature,” Edmund says it like it’s a walk in the park rather than changing people’s entire lives. “Deacon Frangos was careless—amateur little weakling—and wanted something more thrilling than, say, going to clubs for gullible drunks.

“During the official trial at the House, he confessed that he spent days working through her wards and broke in. Never expected that McDermott was a fighter. She couldn’t get to her wand, but she did have a knife. She stabbed him 3 times as he was drinking from her. Their blood mixed, and Frangos ran off to lick his wounds before we found him. That was Friday.”

“Merlin and Morgana,” Draco breathes, “that quick?”

Edmund only looks at him, silent as he waits for Draco to weigh his decisions. Or lack thereof.

“What about, what about my apartment? My things?”

“You’ll only be at the House of Collective until we get you accustomed to your new life, then you can return home. Or,” Edmund tilts his head to the side, “you can stay. It’s akin to a commune, there’s space for all. It’s in the middle of the woods, too, hidden behind extensive wards and Charms, very private. Don’t you love your privacy?”

“What, do you live there?”

“Yes! Just so you know, I built my own dwelling. It’s stunning, if I do say so myself. Marble floors, 5 balconies. Just added a new pool last month. Plenty of space to… christen, unlike your studio apartment.”

Edmund lets a casual grin grace his face, all jokes. Draco curls his lips. It’s a mystery for the ages as to how he’s ever found this man charismatic.

“I’d rather the, um, the studio apartment. It does have its charms. Checkered bathroom tiles, and, hmm, a working oven. I might paint the fireplace next week, who knows?”

“Big plans, big plans,” Edmund nods solemnly. “However, you will need to pay a visit at least twice a month for resources and news within the community. There are tons; we even have a matchmaking service so you wouldn’t have to explain yourself to some bumbling mortal and worry about lifespans. Isn’t that so very neat? But, you already have me.”

Edmund shoots him a wink. If he’s not, well, Edmund, Draco might think it’s attractive.

“I think,” he starts. His neck is aching something fierce the longer he looks back, so he turns to face Edmund directly, “we need to have a talk about ending this entanglement.”

“My,” Edmund adjusts without trouble, interlacing his hands behind Draco’s waist, just above his bum. “Must you hurt me so? After all we’ve been through in the past three dates, you want to cast me aside?”

“Those three dates were nothing more than bouts of insanity. My apologies, I was in a moment of weakness and was somehow fooled by your… Merlin, I don’t even know. Basically, you were a passing fancy that I will rue ever having for the rest of my life.”

Edmund sighs and lowers his head until it’s nestled where Draco’s neck joins his shoulders.

“My 161st love has broken my heart. Oh, how can I recover from this pain?”

He lifts his head up, meeting Draco’s unimpressed gaze with a smirk. “Perhaps one last kiss will be the balm I need. Come on, just one more for closure.”

Draco gnaws his bottom lip and wets the still-throbbing cut on it. Then, he rolls his eyes, sliding them shut. No big deal.

“You’re so generous, Draco,” purrs a deep voice right at the corner of his mouth. Draco parts his lips, breathing in the hushed words. “Can’t say I won’t miss this. Your blood truly is a delicacy.”

“Hurry the fuck up.”

Sweet, sweet wine.

Draco sags against Edmund’s strong chest, head lolled to the side, panting. They have stopped before it got too much this time, yet Draco still teeters over the edge of insanity with every suckle of lips, every caress of tongue. Edmund has been gentle, large hands cupping Draco’s face like he’s a priceless treasure made of opals and emeralds, combing through the slightly wavy hair Draco has grown out. He has fixed Draco’s shirt as he plucked off every scrap of sense remaining in Draco’s head, has stroked the purple marks in bloom, and covered them with the bomber jacket.

As Draco clutched those broad shoulders and wrinkled the expensive fabric adorning them, he had half a mind to demand Edmund to be rougher, to stop trying to savor it. Stop making it something to go breathless over.

Toying with the shiny button on Edmund’s wool suit, he reminds himself that it was smart to end whatever they had between them. Otherwise, he can see himself becoming addicted, and such a problem has no place in his life.

“It’s getting late,” he says. The street outside is still bustling with people, bursting with sound. The person leaning against the wall opposite is lighting up a new cigarette.

“Oh, doll,” Edmund hugs him tight. “Darling. You’re right, it’s getting late. ”

They stand there for a few moments more nonetheless, clutching each other. Then Draco sees it. Sees him.

As if on cue, the person straightens from their position against the wall. They step forward, one foot after the other, slack and loose, into the buzzing light. Draco can’t observe intricate details from this far away—has to wait until tomorrow, apparently—but he still has eyes.

A pair of snickering women stroll by, and the street seems empty for a split second. It’s enough for Draco to see large, black boots (Dragonhide, the part of his brain that never forgets Mother’s fashion books notes) and dark, well-fitted pants stretching over thick thighs. Sleeves rolled to the elbow, exposing dark arms with a myriad of pink-white scars. White button-up, wrinkled and stained, tied by leather harnesses crisscrossing at the chest, like the wearer has forgone changing after work and instead hurried off to deal with an urgent task. An unusual outfit for urban London, but somehow, it works.

Left hand tucked in a pants pocket, the other tapping the fine ash from a cig into a puddle on the concrete. It lifts to hover in front of full, waiting lips. One sleepy bloke trudges by, a heavy bag slung over his shoulder. A hazy billow of smoke spills forth lazily as the bloke walks out of view, opaque clouds masking an expressionless face before disintegrating into the night.

“Doll.”

Draco glances back at Edmund, who is staring at his lips. His hands run tiny circles over the small of Draco’s back.

“We decided on one kiss.”

“I know,” Edmund’s thumb swipes over the cut, as soft as a brush dipping into paint. “There’s still blood.”

“Obviously,” Draco says with a slight snort, “you bit it. Like a brute.”

Edmund’s reply comes in the form of his thumb pressing against the cut as if wanting to both stopper the blood and squeeze it out. Draco assists by opening his mouth, slipping the finger into moist warmth. And for some godforsaken reason, his eyes travel back to the street beyond.

This time, both hands are in the pants pockets. The cigarette has stopped its light bouncing, now lying still between pillowy lips. Like before, the voyeur is a statue amidst a sea of movement.

Draco swirls his tongue against the pad of the thumb, tasting himself and gulping it down. It’s bitter and sour without Edmund’s blood to sweeten it up, but he keeps licking until all he can feel is the saltiness of skin, the clenched fistful of his jacket against his hip, and—

And green.

“It’s getting late,” Edmund whispers against his forehead, his lips a touch away from kissing his fringe.

Letting the finger fall from his mouth, Draco whispers back.

“Okay.”

The voyeur never stops looking. Draco knows because neither does he.

“We’re never doing this again.”

Draco’s eyes glide back to Edmund. “I never thought you’d be the one to say that.”

“Me, too. But I’m serious,” the man says, but doesn’t clean his finger. “From now on, we keep our hands to ourselves.”

“And mouths.”

“Yes, those especially.”

Draco huffs out a laugh, “Okay. Very well. I’m glad we’ve reached an agreement.”

Edmund shakes his head, then blinks. He looks up at Draco, mischief in his eyes.

“Alright, Draco, you’ve done enough for the night.”

“Pardon?” Draco says, sliding his arm into the crook of Edmund’s. “You Side-Along us.”

“Of course, and I meant. Merlin, you’ve done quite enough. Oh, goodness, that’s pungent.”

Edmund pats Draco’s hand on his forearm and leans toward his ear.

“Say goodbye to him.”

Draco’s fingers tighten around Edmund’s arm in warning. He doesn’t say ‘goodbye,’ but he does look to the street light opposite the alleyway. Before the Apparition wrenches all the thoughts out of his head, Draco vows not to think about the expression on that face.

[letoscrawls]

What are your Extremely Italian Opinions? Anything from politics to pasta, drop some hot takes

mmmmm good question! even though i'm not a proud italian as i'm very critical of this country and i'd love to live abroad in the future, i do have typical italian opinions that i'm ready to die for. I’m sure these will be mainly about food, but let’s see:

-say whatever you want, but italian food is the best food in the entire world, not only it’s healthy but it’s also delicious and no nation can compare :) no you can’t change my mind :) every time i watch Ratatouille i cringe so bad at the beginning when they say that French cuisine is known to be the best in the world??? that’s so false and i don’t even find it funny, we italians take food so seriously and if you dare criticize something about our food we take it very personal, yes, IT IS THAT DEEP.

-idk if it's a take but i find it funny that we don't use ice that much?? like i was so shocked to learn that smoothies are made WITH ICE?? we almost never use it, we definitely don't put it in coffee and we have this strange belief that ice gives you stomachache, especially if you want to take a bath, we usually wait two or three hours before taking a bath after a meal, especially if there's ice in it somewhere lol i think it's a typical Italian Grandma Advice but we all follow it religiously. Even though i know it's bizarre i can't help but wait at least two hours after my meal before having any kind of contact with water

-No one dubs movies and cartoons like italians. Our voice actors are superior (but the italian Rebels dub is terrible, don’t watch Rebels in italian, everyone sounds very bad except for Thrawn, surprisingly his voice better than the original and i've already talked about this in my ig stories some time ago haha) and i often watch shows and movies in italian even tho it's "trendy" nowadays to watch everything in english. Tbh i think that  a country with a strong tradition of voice acting shouldn't neglect it in favor of the original language, just because something was made in english it doesn't make it better. For example, the prequel trilogy is insanely better in italian, while i love Hayden's performance as Anakin i think that sometimes...it lacks emotion? the italian dub makes up for those parts, i couldn't understand why international fans used to despise the PT so much at first, especially the acting. There isn't one single character in the prequels that sounds bad, really. Same thing goes for Disney classics, i find them 100% funnier in italian (the most memorable example is Emperor's New Groove, the main characters are voiced by some of the funniest comedians we have, they all did an amazing job), even tho some characters are voiced by celebrities who don't do voice acting on a regular basis the result is always phenomenal. Honorable mention to the Genie in Aladdin who is voiced by Gigi Proietti, an actor and comedian of immesurable talent who passed away a few days ago, his performance is on the same level of Robin Williams' imo. So yeah, i'm a huge fan of italian voice acting in case you didn't notice

-regarding politics, lots of people here say that we have the "best democracy in the world" or something like that.........eh, i highly doubt it. I hate this country because there is no meritocracy, you're most likely to succeed if you have good connections or a powerful family. The worst part is that this applies to EVERYTHING and it's terrible. Also there's a big imbalance between North Italy and South Italy, so it's hard to succeed and have access to a good education if you're born in the South and you're poor. And it's a shame. I was lucky enough to live near a very good university so i pay for taxes and nothing else, but only those who are born in wealthy families in the south can afford university in the north as universities in the south are not that good in general. it's really a shame bc south italy is freaking beautiful but the government doesn't spend the same amount of time, energy and money and that's also one of the reasons crime rates are so high there. truly every single issue in Italy could be resolved by funding our education system but most politicians don't give a flying fuck about it and it shows :/

-University in italy is considered a privilege, something that people do because they are too lazy to go to work and get "a real job". we have one of the lowest rates of student getting a degree in europe and yet a lot of people are expected to be jobless for years after graduating uni. it's crazy. there is no respect or consideration for university students since you're not obliged by law to attend one but it's your choice. university professors are terrible, they act like we don't have a personal life and in most cases will make everything so hard that you'll need to take an exam even 15 times before passing it. a friend of mine who is a prodigy in Math attended a really good university in Switzerland and he told me that you can take exams a max of 3 times there but you usually don't need to because they are much easier to pass?? also exams are so hard to pass, my degree is a living hell, you have to take multiple tests, do projects and assignments to pass one freaking exam, while the entire world has the paper system, so you basically write a paper and then the teacher grades it and guess what??? YOU LEARN STUFF ANYWAY. i hate that university in italy takes so much years, tears and mental energy to finish and this leads me to my next point

-healthcare. Italy has one of the best healthcare systems in the world because, well, it's free! You have some kind of bills to pay, but they are not as expensive as in the US, the country got a huge debt at some point in the 60s/70s (i guess??) to afford free healthcare but it was really worth it!! HOWEVER, i think it's pointless to have free healthcare for literally anything besides mental health. sadly, mental health is a tough topic here, if you suffer from a mental illness you're considered crazy, an attention seeker, incapable of being a normal citizen and stuff like that. therapists are super expensive and only wealthy people can afford them. personally, i can't afford one and i would love to since i suffer from anxiety and maybe other things (but i guess i'll never know since my country doesn't give a fuck lmao). and university students are most likely to have mental health issues due to the terrible conditions we live in, yet society ignores us, this results in very high suicide rates among students in their twenties. i honestly hate it so fucking much, especially because studying psychology is considered "easy" and you'll probably be jobless after your degree. psychologists are doctors, they deserve to be paid like any other doctor because they save lives, for real.

So uhm this was supposed to be funny but ended being very critical hahahaha

[redheadedrenagade]

Wicked Game

Chapter 1: When the Lights Went Dim

credit to gamegifsdaily for the beautiful gif. 

Here’s the first chapter to Wicked Game, a Joel Miller x Female OC fanfiction. I’ll be honest, I have NO CLUE where this fic is going to go. I don’t anticipate it being super long, and I still haven’t decided if I’m going to go super in depth into the OC’s past. I really just wanted the chance to write something sweet and smutty for our Joel. And Ellie. I love them both so much don’t loOK AT ME

This takes place 2 years after the pair move into Jackson. OC came along halfway through their first year, so the 3 have had 1.5 years of time spent together so far. In this, Ellie has forgiven Joel for his mistakes and continues to have a healthy relationship with him, though it does still very much bother her now and then.

As far as WARNINGS go, this is an 18+ fic, and I fully intend on keeping it that way. Possible triggers may include sexually abusive language, especially in this first chapter, sexual language and situations (aka SMUT Y’ALL), cursing, gore, death, apocalypse horrors and I’m sure a number of other adult themes. So please, please don’t read if you’re underage. I say that with care, not contempt. 

That being said, I hope you enjoy what I’ve come up with so far. :) If interested, this is the song that inspired the title of this chapter. I felt like it fit really well. 

She had no idea how she’d ended up in this insane situation. Four men with their guns drawn on her, her own gun pointed right at the leader’s forehead as Ellie did as she was asked and stayed behind her. Ellie had no gun on her, just her trusty knife. But they hadn’t thought much of it since Charlotte had her gun, they were hardly out of Jackson to feel true concern. They got complacent. And now, they were in deep shit.

She must actually be afraid if she’s listening. She never listens. God dammit, I have to get her out of this…

“How…how about we make a deal? Hmm? I go with you. Willingly. But you let the girl go,” she says, working hard as hell to keep her voice from quivering as all the possibilities of torture flash across her mind.

“Charlotte…no. NO! You can’t – “

“Quiet, Ellie! I mean it!” she cuts the girl behind her off, her heart breaking at how angry she has to make herself sound so Ellie will hopefully head her suggestion. Charlotte feels Ellie relent as she presses her small body against Charlotte’s back, her forehead coming to rest between her shoulder blades. Charlotte understands the sweet gesture and what it means. She can feel the girl’s anger and love radiating off her. She’s warm, and Charlotte lets herself compartmentalize this nice feeling for another time, when she’ll have to escape inside her own mind just to survive.

I know, honey. I’m sorry. But there’s no other way.

The group of men in front of them snicker and look at each other in a way that makes her stomach twist into a knot.

“Now why in the hell would we do that? You’re both pretty, young things. Especially that one…could be a mighty nice opportunity, trainin’ her to be our little slave,” the leader replies, and she feels her face contort with rage at the sick filth coming out of his mouth.

“We can either all die, right here, right now, or you accept my offer. If not, I’ll put a bullet in your fucking skull, and when one of you shoot me, Ellie will run. Now both of your little fuck-toys are gone. Kinda’ defeats the purpose, don’t you think?”, she hisses at them, her eyes drifting onto each one of them, sizing them up.

Ellie can outrun them. She can do it. I know she can.

Just as she’s about to risk it all and pull the trigger, the man lowers his gun and smirks at her.

“Fine. You’ll just have to care of all of us, then. You think you’re strong, sweetie? Oh, we are gonna’ ruin you,” he says, his dark eyes glittering terribly. Charlotte lets out a long breath she didn’t realize she was holding and gives him one sharp nod, her arm still holding the gun at him.

“Okay. Good. She runs away first, though. Only then do I drop this gun. Then I’m all yours, boys,” she replies, noticing how monotone her voice has become, completely devoid of emotion.

Maybe I’m numb. That’s probably a good thing.

She hears Ellie curse in rage behind her, but before the girl can protest, Charlotte turns her head to the side and lets her eyes find Ellie’s. They are angry, terrified pools of forest green, and her heart clenches hard at how torn she looks.

“It’s okay, Ellie. Go on. It’s okay,” Charlotte whispers to her, giving the girl a smile only reserved for her.

She looks as if she’s about to say something, her mouth parting slightly, but she’s quickly cut off.

“Ellie. We only got one shot at this. Don’t make it all for nothing. Go. Go, Ellie. Now!” she manages to ground out, sparks of agony twisting its way through her veins. Not because she’s scared, but because she knows this is goodbye. Her mind briefly wanders to Joel, picturing his face as he smirks at her and Ellie for doing something weird or obnoxious (which was most of the time). Picturing his dark eyes looking into hers on occasion, which never failed to make her stomach flip flop like a little kid with a crush.

“We’ll come back for you,” Ellie whispers fiercely into her ear, making sure to step to the side and glare acidly at the men, and without another word, the girl turns and starts sprinting away, her form getting smaller and smaller as she distances herself. Not until she’s over the large hill they’d come down does Charlotte sigh in relief, turning her head back to the men.

“Give it five minutes. I’m not stupid, I don’t want you just hunting her down after I give you my gun,” she says matter-of-factly, and the man raises his hands in a passive gesture as he backs up a step and then crosses his arms in wait.

Charlotte hardly registers the conversation a couple of them are having, but she hears enough that she has to physically hold back a shudder of disgust. The time comes and goes in what feels like both seconds and eons, and finally, she slowly lowers her arm and clicks the safety back on, letting the gun fall from her hand into the grass with a soft ‘thump’.

This is actually happening. Shit. But she got away. That’s all that matters. She got away.

“Good girl,” he mocks her in false praise before holding out his hand for hers to take.

She swallows the bile rising in her throat and lets herself remember one last day in the sun with Ellie and Joel. A perfect day, when they were happy, when she’d held Ellie down and tickled her into a laughing fit that made even the unbreakable Joel chuckle and shake his head in amusement. The dinners with Maria and Tommy, in their house which always felt like a haven. The townspeople she’d grown to love like family.

I’ll miss you all so fucking much.

Then, the moment was gone, and all that remained was the hand that would lead her to the end of what her spirit could endure. She takes it and says goodbye to the way things were only hours ago.

══════════════════

Charlotte is jerked awake by the sound of someone’s gruff voice near her, and suddenly, she’s slapped hard across the face. She gasps, blinking furiously while trying to see through the blur of her vision who had hit her. She tries to bring her arms up to protect her face, but she realizes slowly that her wrists and ankles are tied to the chair she’s in. Things come into focus then, the panic of being restrained sharpening her attentions, and she sees the leader of the gang bending down to leer at her, his hands resting on his thighs.

“’Bout fuckin’ time. Been waiting for hours for you to grace us with your presence,” he drawls nastily, and she looks around the small, dingy room and notices it’s just the two of them. The walls and floors are made of concrete, and the only light available are the small rays of sunlight pushing their way through a tiny window high on the wall.

“Did…why did you knock me out, you bastard? I thought…you said – “ He laughs derisively and slaps his thigh in glee, stepping back to walk over to a decrepit old desk that’s covered in various instruments. Deadly looking instruments.

“You really think I give a shit about fuckin’ you, girl? Nah, I’ve got bigger fish to fry,” he replies, picking up a knife that glints ominously in the small bit of sunlight. “We know you two must’ve come from Jackson. We’ve been working for weeks trying to find a way in without being shot, and lo and behold, we come across you two!”

She snorts, despite the consistent throbbing in her head from being cold cocked with his gun and relaxes her head back against the chair casually.

“And you think I can help you…what, sneak in? I hate to be the bearer of bad news, buddy, but it’s impossible. Truly, there’s no fuckin’ way,” she replies with ease, and for the first time since they’d met, she’s being honest with him. It just wasn’t possible.

“I was thinking of something a bit more…motivating. To the people guarding it. Now, I can’t imagine why anyone would give a rats ass whether you live or die, but I’m banking of the fact that they probably don’t wanna’ see you tortured slowly until you die,” he says smoothly as he saunters towards her, slowly making a circle around her.

She feels a jolt of fear course through her, not about being tortured, but about what they’ll do if they see her…would they give in?

God, I hope not.

“They won’t give up an entire community of good people for me, if that’s what you’re wondering. None of us would, for any one person,” she replies, her jaw clenching as she feels his presence behind her where he comes to a stop.

“That so? Hmmm. Well, I think it’s worth a shot, don’t you?” he chuckles darkly before one of his hands comes to wrap itself around her throat in warning.

“Whatever you say, boss. It’s your show, not mine,” she hisses through clenched teeth, wanting so badly to recoil from his touch.

Fuck. This could be bad. Really, really bad.

“Good girl. Let’s get started then.”

Without warning, he stabs the knife deep into the meat of her shoulder, and a sound she doesn’t even realize she can make is ripping its way out of her throat. The unbearable pain is like nothing she’d ever felt as he twists the blade inside, and instead of crying, she roars. Even through the haze of agony, she refuses to let tears fall.

“Aw, I know, honey. But if you cooperate, we’ll save the brutal shit for the townspeople. Have to give them a good show, y’know?” he says as he grips her braid and yanks her head back hard enough to where she can look up into his eyes at an upside-down angle.

She spits into his face in rage, surmising that if this is her last day on earth, she wasn’t going to go out without a fight.

He yanks the knife out of her body and her back arches unnaturally in her chair as she screams again, all anger and no surrender. He walks around to the front of her now, his face far less at ease as he wipes her spit off angrily with the back of his hand.

“Little bitch likes it rough, huh? That’s fine with me.” He then swiftly sinks the blade into her thigh, crouching down close to see her expression. She almost goes deaf from the sound of her own scream in the small room, and out of instinct and adrenaline, starts thrashing against her restraints in earnest.

“What’s that? You want more?” he asks, his expression mockingly soft as he places his free hand against her cheek. She turns quickly and bites a couple of his fingers as hard she can, picturing her canines cracking the bones in half. He wrestles his fingers out of her mouth as he yelps in pain and surprise, then looks at her incredulously as her chest rises and falls rapidly. She stares straight into his eyes, her mouth now filling with a copper taste, and she gives him a bloody, feral smile.

“Do you?” she whispers, and her voice is acid. He blinks a few times before his face twists into rage and he starts to fumble with his belt before ripping it off. She doesn’t have time to anticipate what his intentions are before he’s stomping around to the back of her as he quickly wraps the belt around her throat, squeezing harder, harder, until little white spots start to erupt across her vision.

“Fuckin’ cocky bitch, I’m gonna’ make you wish you would’ve turned into one of those fucking monsters when you had the chance,” he rasps against her ear, but she can barely hear him through the sound of the blood rushing behind her ears. Her heart is trying, and failing, to keep her alive, and the panic of truly not being able to breathe hits like a freight train. She’s turning absolutely animalistic under her restraints, knocking the chair side to side in her desperate attempt to breathe, to escape.

Please, please, air! Please, god!

She’s practically deaf now as the room starts to shrink, dimming around her like theatres used to do before a movie started.

This is it. Oh, god, this is it…

Just as she’s slipping over the precipice of unconsciousness, the belt slackens, causing her to breathe in a horribly painful, ragged breath that claws its way down into her lungs. She immediately starts coughing so hard that she’s barely able to suck in the sweet, precious air given to her, and nothing matters more at this moment than filling her lungs with it greedily. She feels an agonizing pain start to ripple through her shoulder, and then an almost unbearable sensation of the knife being pulled out of her leg in a swift, precise motion. She screams again, her cry broken and raspy after her throat was crushed so tightly by the belt.

“…….hear me?”

“…………I’m here….”

A low, gentle voice rumbles into her senses from across the world and she wonders for a moment if she’s already dead.

She cracks open her eyes as she feels light pressure being applied to her wounds and realizes there must be people here. She croaks out a feeble warning.

“Who…don’t touch – “

She hears it again then, that low cadence of baritone hushing her gently, wrapping something around her leg.

Her understanding seeps back into her brain as her eyes finally start to clear, although things are still a bit blurry as the intense pain throbs and flows through her.

Then, all at once, fear grips her heart hard as memories come flashing back into sharp focus behind her eyes.

Ellie. ELLIE.

“Where’s Ellie?! ELLIE!” she screams, her voice cracking in panic again as the figure of…Joel?…comes into focus before her. Suddenly, she’s awake. Truly awake.

“She’s fine, Char. She’s okay, she’s right here with me, see?” Joel says in a shockingly gentle voice she’d never heard him use before. Not with her, at least. Sure enough, Ellie pauses tending to her shoulder and walks around to look at her, taking her hand gently. The expression on her face breaks Charlotte’s heart.

“God, they really fucked her up, Joel,” the young girl says with a wince that held equal parts compassion and fury as she surveys Charlotte properly.

“Barely…barely a scratch,” she mutters, grinning crookedly at them before furrowing her brows in pain again and letting her head fall back against the chair.

I’m so tired. But I’m safe. Because of them…is this really even happening?

Before she can say anything more, Joel is gingerly scooping her off the chair – when did her restraints come off? – and starts to make his way out of the building with Ellie in tow.

“We know, tough guy,” Joel whispers to her, the barest hint of a smile in his tone as he jostles her into a sturdier embrace. She can’t help but let out a small whimper and she hears him curse under his breath at himself for being too rough. Her vision is starting to grow a bit fuzzy around the edges, and a feeling of calm starts to wash over her as he holds her close.

Suck it up, buttercup. He just saved your ass. Don’t make him feel bad.

In and out, her consciousness weaves as she registers a few bodies here and there on their way out, Ellie marching resolutely in front of them. Joel is so warm, and he’s breathing hard from having to support all of her weight, but he doesn’t slow down for a second. The light of the already darkening day starts to seep into black and white as she starts to black out, and her mind can only think of Joel and Ellie.

They’re okay. She’s okay.

“I’m sorry, Joel…my fault…I’m sorry,” she grumbles groggily into his shoulder, guilt snaking its way into her heart. She’d put Ellie at serious risk. Now, she was doing it again, but this time with Joel in tow.

I’m supposed to protect her. Not the other way around.

“S’all right, sweetheart. Just hang in there. We’ll be home soon,” he replies, and she can feel the comforting vibrations from his chest as he speaks. She giggles lightly at the pet name, her mental awareness no longer coinciding with reality anymore.

“Sweetheart…” she whispers in a small voice, burrowing her face into him closely enough that her lips graze the pulse point beneath his strong jaw. He inhales sharply through his nose and squeezes her a little tighter in his arms but doesn’t reply. Ellie jogs further ahead to keep an eye out, gun in hand as Joel does his best to move as quietly as possible.

The ground starts to be swallowed up by the sky, and she wants to stay awake so badly, but she just can’t. She slackens her hold around Joel’s neck and her body slumps in his arms, all of the fight leaving her at once. She hears him pleading, jostling her a bit to get her attention, but she just can’t. She just needs to rest, just for a minute.

“M’sorry…so tired…” she mumbles before the darkness floods her vision and the world is swallowed by silence.

[livlepretre]

tysm for all ur FE updates!!! i'm really excited for elijah's introduction in this dynamic. i feel like he's just as acquainted with elena's morally complex nature as klaus's since, after all, he was the first one she ever lured in and daggered (call-back to that scene was GREAT btw). i'm just curious how you view elena/elijah's dynamic vs. klaus/elena's, even outside the scope of the fic, esp since they've had more canon interactios

This is an ask after my own heart, nonny! 

This is such an interesting question-- it’s true that Elijah and Elena have a lot more canon interactions to work with, although the Klaus and Elena interactions we DO have in canon are so ripe and explosive that it lends itself to a lot of speculation. 

So, here are my thoughts: 

Elena/Elijah: Elena and Elijah both operate under the false assumption that they’re both honorable people. In fact, all of the trust they build together in season 2 is based on this idea, with both of them going to great lengths to negotiate and prove themselves to the other. They both think they’re being extremely honest with the other-- the deal they make in 2x11 utterly fascinates me, because Elijah honestly asks Elena to die as her part of the deal, and she agrees??? It doesn’t sound like he tried to hide that from her at all. Now, Elena DOES dagger him, but she also proves herself to him later and is able to account for her actions. All of that combined with the insane levels of attraction between them (WHEN HE SMELLS HER AND THEN GIVES HER THAT LITTLE WAVE IN 2x08????) make for really captivating television. There’s also a lot of interesting framing going on with the camera angles-- if you look back at it, notice how often Elena is shown in mirror reflections during her early scenes with Elijah-- all the time. What a great call back to how he sees her not just as herself, but as her role as the doppelganger. I do think he BEGINS to see her as herself as he gets to know her, especially by 2x19, but that takes time. 

Well. The crux of it all is that Elena goes through with her side of the deal-- the deal on which their entire relationship is based-- going to her death, losing her aunt whom Elijah fails to protect-- even though doing so was HIS part of the bargain-- and then Elijah is the one who breaks his word when he decides not to kill Klaus. This is the first sign we have that actually Elijah isn’t honorable at all; he thinks that he is, but really, he’s as selfish as his siblings. I don’t really think Elena ever forgives him for this. We see in season 3 that she still really is attracted to Elijah, and that she can’t quite help but be drawn in by him, but she never allows herself to really put herself in his hands again. She might feel bad about conspiring to kill him with the rest of his family in 3x14 and 3x15... but she also doesn’t hesitate. And she doesn’t exactly confess what she’s done, either. She just gets caught. I also don’t think that Elijah’s letter to her did anything to smooth over the wreck they’d made of their relationship/unspoken attraction to each other. The way Elena recites it back to him in season 4 says it all about how much she dwelled on his words, but it also implies that she’s still hurt and angry about it all all of that time later. I think she had this really powerful, idealized image of Elijah, and her disillusionment with him is profound. 

Meanwhile, Elena is also on a path throughout seasons 2 & 3 of discovering that she’s not who she thought she’d grow up to be. She is definitely more honorable than Elijah when they meet, and she means to keep her word. But Elena’s story is that she’s an orphan with no parental/mentor guidance influencing her in a positive and moral way; instead, she has a 26 year old aunt who means well but is totally in the dark about what’s really going on and pretty much in over her head, and maybe Alaric, who shouldn’t count as a good influence because, well, look at his life, look at his choices. And she has the Salvatores. The greatest influences upon her. Damon has the greatest part in tipping her away from the straight and narrow path, to getting her sense of right and wrong to slowly unravel until she gets to a place such as 2x05, when she watches Damon eat the deputies and she doesn’t bat an eyelash (how far she’s come from 1x07 when she slapped Damon and called him out!). I MORE than suspect that the infamous Elijah-daggering at the lake house was a Damon/Elena collaboration. But even Stefan, who the show frames as so stalwart and honorable, is still a terrifying vampire with ultimately little concern for human life. He still hurts people off and on throughout seasons 1 & 2, or doesn’t particularly have a problem with it when Damon does. I mean, do you see Stefan crying over what Damon did to Caroline in season 1? It’s inconceivable from a human view point. But that’s the point. They’re not human, and they’re the greatest influences in Elena’s life. No small part of Bonnie’s horror with the Salvatores is because she watches Elena slowly turn down this dark path with those two leading Elena by the hand-- human Elena, who should never cross through the veil into the shadow. 

She’s still in the process of straying from that path-- from her honorable self-- when Elijah meets her. By the time they encounter each other in season 3, she’s already left all of that behind. She stabs people in the back when they trust her. She negotiates and gives her word only to double cross as soon as the moment is right, and she doesn’t seem to lose very much sleep over it. Elijah’s issue is that he cannot see that in Elena-- he wants to see her as who she was when he met her-- who Katerina and probably who Tatia was-- as a miracle that he desires but doesn’t quite dare to touch-- but he is incapable of seeing that his betrayal of her at the sacrifice was probably the last straw that killed whatever innocence was left in Elena. 

I think the attraction and the yearning is always going to be there between them, but it’s so embittered, especially from Elena’s point of view, that it’s hard to say whether they would be able to work past that unless Elijah suddenly learned some actual introspection skills. 

Elena/Klaus: I’ve had to think a while about this dynamic to answer the question of how this relationship is as directly compared to Elena/Elijah. Obviously they both have the history and repetition element, of the dead lover whose face keeps reiterating through time-- what a dreadful and terrifying idea, honestly. Except where Elijah is almost afraid to even touch Elena (he SO desires her, but never ever acts on it), Klaus touches Elena all. the. time. There’s a real possessiveness to his relationship with her-- notice how he holds her as he devours her; how during the Reckoning he’s always physically close to her, leaning into her space, touching her-- whereas Elijah really physically backs off from Elena when he confirms her identity, Klaus comes closer. 

This is interesting because I’ve realized in thinking about this relationship, and what Klaus and Elena potentially have in common, that what they really share is their isolation-- their loneliness. Klaus explicitly states that this is why he desires Elena-- to make hybrids, so he won’t be alone anymore (Rebekah mocks him for it, but there it is). Elena, meanwhile, is at her most alone in season 3-- everyone walks away from her there, for reasons she has no control over. This is never really used as a point to bring them together as characters, but I find it really interesting as a possibility for connection. 

Another thing that really interests me is that Elena often tries to negotiate with Klaus the way she would with Elijah-- and mostly, it fails spectacularly. Klaus recognizes in Elena that she is a schemer and a liar-- because he is too. What’s fascinating though is that, just like Elijah, he tends to treat her as an equal in these conversations-- even if he doesn’t want to play. He doesn’t tend to treat with the other characters in this way, and that gives Elena an intriguingly special status there. 

In canon we really don’t have a ton to work with to talk about the Klaus/Elena dynamic-- it’s all potential. The idea of fate being so strong and impossible to avoid-- that in that sense, they’re almost warped soul mates?; the powerful fire imagery surrounding them (the only time Elena’s elemental coding switches from water to fire is with Klaus); the chemistry and attraction that bubbled over in all of their scenes, especially in the early days; the fact that she is just so constantly challenging him and wrecking him at every turn? Klaus’s big problem is that no one is his equal, and yet... here is Elena. Human Elena, whose reasoning is as warped as Klaus’s by season 3, who somehow keeps scrambling up to play against Original vampires and witches and all sorts of creatures who should be able to crush her and yet, she keeps besting them. That’s some potent stuff to work with. I tend to think that at the end of the day, Klaus actually understands Elena much better than Elijah did, because his view of her isn’t really muddied by idealism and instead really takes into account her more tarnished nature. My only regret is that the showrunners obviously feared ever really exploring Klaus x Elena x Elijah (EVEN THOUGH THEY COMPLETELY SET IT UP) because they felt that Stefan x Elena x Damon was already as much as the show could handle (it wasn’t-- we should have done both, obviously). 

[asgardianthot]

Flesh And Bones - part 1

Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes

Soulmate AU

In a world where people bond with their soulmates through physical pain, living in the same compound makes the search much easier (or it should, if they weren’t so damn stubborn)

TW: self-inflicted injuries

words: 1742

A/N: this is my first time posting a series on the tumblrs but I’ve had the idea for months so here goes nothing

Series Masterlist

Pain is such human extravaganza.

For your body to react to certain dangers or stimulations that trigger specific nervous patterns, that’s something most living creatures are built with. We are but machines; when you lay your hand over fire and it hurts, your nervous system is alerting the rest of your body of harm and yelling at it to get away from said harm, similar to how old hair dryers would stop functioning when they overheated to prevent explosions.

That, we have a general idea of. Pain is natural and not a construct.

But suffering. Aching from love, or the lack of it… nobody does it better than humans. Super-humans included. Enhanced, hyper-trained, whatever. The pain parade of romance is something so deeply rooted into the dumbest parts of our brains, that that must be the reason behind soulmates.

The point is, it is only logical for such a cruel universe to bond love and pain so tightly.

It’s simple, really. Sometime in the speck of dust of time in which we live, a person will get injured. They’ll bump their toe on a kitchen counter, fall on their butts, cut their finger while chopping vegetables, or maybe get into a chaotic car accident. No matter the damage, when the universe decides that hurt idiot is your hurt idiot, you’ll feel their pain on your own skin. It also didn’t matter if you knew the person or not, only chances were your soulmate was a complete stranger.

At first it comes like a tingle, a small pinch or even the ghost sensation of a scratch. But if your soulmate is nearer than they should without you realizing who they are, the sensation becomes full and the closer they are the more vivid their pain feels on your own skin. It is extremely uncertain, however, if it has to do with spatial proximity, or emotional.

Sam Wilson would eventually sit on the park, after his morning jog, or afternoon jog, and contemplate people. He enjoyed the easiness, the memory of a time before the army, when his life was simple. No PTSD, no Avenging. To be fair, the Avenger life was the cure to the PTSD somehow, for Sam Wilson was a man of action and the more quiet his life was, the more his mind wandered. He loved the agitation, the missions, the feeling of helping people, yet every once in a while, or once a day even, he would simply sit and watch the futility of civilian’s walks around the park.

A woman sat next to him and didn’t offer any sign of kindness. She seemed busy -occupied- in the way that she moved and looked around, which is why he didn’t look at her any longer so she wouldn’t feel uncomfortable. However, he then began getting the feeling that she was keeping an eye on him, and when he glanced at her nervous hands, he noticed the poor woman holding a needle to her skin, poking her own hand a few times.

A desperate soul.

On one side of a binary coin, some people don’t believe in soulmates. They aren’t the easiest to spot, and when a couple like that is seen, there is no proof for a simple skeptical individual that they actually felt each other’s pain. There were studies proving the neuronal effects, and were those hard to execute, but not everyone fell for them. Some argued that it was psychological placebo, that the person forced themselves to feel their lover’s feelings, some accused the studies to be biased or false. Some were old and hadn’t found one so why would they believe soulmates were real? They’re not necessary. You don’t just love the person you’ll want to spend the rest of your life with, and them alone, there’s all kinds of love and affection. Then, well… some were simply bitter, covering up their fear of never finding one for themselves.

On the polar opposite, there were the desperate ones. They would inflict harm on themselves in public spaces, expecting a reaction from the passersby.

More than once had Sam seen a man stab their own leg or cut through their palm yelling ‘can anybody feel this?’ as if they feared this was their only shot, forcing the Falcon to run and make them stop hurting themselves along with other civilians. Some couldn’t wait. And Sam never understood why someone wouldn’t be able to enjoy life if they didn’t know their one and only; It made dating much more relaxed and fun and honest. Perhaps that person would eventually become your soulmate, and even though the probabilities of that happening were slim to none, it didn’t need to ruin every romantic relationship in your life.

Therefore with pain in his chest, he addressed the young woman whose eyes were directly analyzing Sam’s hand.

“Hey, lady?” he asked her, earning a big pair of hopeful eyes to find his; yet he had to give her a sad frown to let her know he wasn’t who she was looking for, thus gaining a mimicking disappointed look, “It’s not worth all this trouble.”

Her expression quickly turned into one of distance, like she was trying to protect herself from people who didn’t understand her. She sat back and allowed a smirk to take over her face as she stared into nothingness.

“You’re one of those people who think it’s all a hoax? A construct?” when obtaining no reply, she kept pressuring the Falcon, “Placebo effect? Self-conditioning?”

Sam didn’t give in. He simply took a big breath and sat up from the bench. When he turned to face her, her eyes weren’t as distant.

“No.” He said calmly, “I think yours will come when it’s time. Until then,” he raised his eyebrows a bit, “you’re just hurting yourself for no reason.”

Sam walked away before he could see the young woman’s lower lip tremble.

-

“I didn’t eat your cereal.” Bucky protested, plopped on the couch that faced a flat screen.

Sam, however, wasn’t buying it. He held his ground, one hand on his hip and the other agitating the skimpy remains inside the carton box, making it rattle.

“It’s empty.” He insisted, in a way that screamed paranoia over being accused of overreacting or being crazy.

Instead of acting in an opposite behavior, he gave Bucky all the more reason to treat him as if he were going insane.

“Well, it wasn’t me.” The soldier replied easily, not flipping through the channels anymore but surrendering to a local news one; after a sigh, he looked at the accusatory, “Maybe Steve did it.”

Sam pursed his lips before turning to Steve with a dead look on his face.

“Steve, did you eat my cereal?” he asked condescendingly, already knowing the answer to be no.

As a matter of fact, the blonde’s shirt had small dark spots where he sweat his morning jog on, his hair was still perfect for a regular person but a bit disheveled for Captain America’s inhuman standards, and he was focused on drinking from a water bottle.

He tilted his head to Sam, who nodded, more agreeing with himself than with Rogers.

“You’re the only one who stays on the couch all morning.” He braked back at Barnes.

He didn’t respond this time, perhaps because he was, once again, being accused of being lazy and not using his time nor his gifts wisely. Perhaps because he was just tired of saying he didn’t eat the cereals in question when he had undoubtedly and decisively eaten the cereals in question.

Paying attention to the random local news he’d landed on, he got the gist of what the reporter was saying. They were presenting a quirky story of a bitter man suing his soulmate. He claimed the only reason he got into a car accident was because he felt a sudden sharp pain in his foot and got distracted, and therefore, was asking for his soulmate to pay off the insurance money. Of course they had to find the soulmate who was allegedly responsible for the crash.

“That’s ridiculous.” Bucky mocked.

Sam sat next to him, already having dropped the subject of the missing cereals. He listened to the reporter interviewing the odd man and let an amused but very quickly evaporated smile.

“People have been pulling stunts like these for ages, you can’t be surprised.”

Barnes glanced at him for a second, then returning to the TV. He still thought it was the stupidest reason to sue he’d ever heard of.

“It’s insane.” He said anyways.

“I think it’s sad.” Sam derailed the commentary on an opposite direction, “Can’t be fun starting your lifelong love story through a lawsuit.”

Steve joined the conversation from behind the couch. “I’m pretty sure it’s just a way of getting their attention. You know, find them whatever it takes. It’s actually kind of romantic.”

Bucky scoffed. He couldn’t stop Steve from being such a hopeless romantic and blindly believe in fairy tales where there was none, but he could still be annoyed by the fact.

“A little convenient, isn’t it?” he raised an eyebrow in judgement, yet not turning around to face the blonde.

“What?” Sam shot defiantly, “You don’t believe in this stuff?”

They both knew he was referring to the soulmates paraphernalia. With his glum attitude and dark observations, Barnes did seem like the kind of people to discard the idea of a soulmate. Love that never changes, souls that bond… it did not sound like James Buchanan Barnes’ cup of tea.

“Not the whole part.” He admitted, “I think there’s a lot of bullshit to it.”

The smirk grew on Wilson’s face, “So you’re one of those wacko conspirationists?”

“What if I am?” Bucky shot back, just to mess with him.

He wasn’t though, or not when it came to soulmates, at least. NASA and the government, on the other hand? The man had seen too much inside Hydra to not believe any crazy theory to be possible. He dropped the subject and became more serious, shrugging a little.

“All I’m saying is there’s lots of rules and conditions, I mean, who makes the calls?” Bucky questioned, almost angry, “Who chooses everyone’s partners? And what if you hate your soulmate?”

“That’s the point.” Steve intervened with his bright optimism, “You won’t. They’re your other half.”

Bucky pursed his lips and picked up the remote to switch channels again.

“Sounds real dumb.”

[shadowthrone-ammanas]

Ghost Kid Chapter Thirteen: Greetings

This is where I started pretty much 100% making stuff up as I go because I had a vague idea for this fic up until this point and Mu seeing Hat Kid again. When I wrote this and onward, it's all new to me, excluding the Mu and Hat Kid scene. So I guess in a way you could say the adventure starts here, we'll all see where this goes and what happens and hopefully it's good. I'm having fun writing it though so how good it is doesn't really matter, especially since the big cushion of chapters I have already written means I have plenty of time to edit and fix things that need fixing to make them as good as I can without driving myself insane. I hope y'all continue to enjoy it. :)

Hat Kid may have gone around the forest, telling every Subconite and dweller she came across that she was officially a resident of Subcon now too; she’d signed a contract and everything. She was welcome here; this was her new home. It was… strange to be so relieved about that after all the work she’d put into gathering the Time Pieces so she could leave. That had been before her death though, before she’d technically failed the final test to become an official space pilot. She’d miss her one friend at the school – everyone else in her classes had been older and had thus resented her for being better and younger than them – but… that was okay; Bow would do just fine without her.

It was nighttime – or the darker part of night, depending on how one viewed the everlasting magical darkness in the forest – when she finally returned to her ship, still supported by Snatcher’s magic vines. She’d have to talk to him about building a space dock here soon because even if this was her home now, she still wanted to go out and visit other planets sometimes. Maybe Snatcher would even be willing to come with her on a few adventures. That would be exciting! They’d probably have to be short adventures though because he needed to protect his forest from his crazy ex and other people who might try to do bad things to it if he left for too long but…

“Subcon’s newest resident, hello.”

She froze, her hand reaching for the door on top of her ship. She looked up and around but… no one was here. Unless they were under the ship.

A form appeared before her; grey skin, strange shaped head, tattered clothing that had perhaps once been fancy, very strange eyes, and no legs. And… were those chains on his wrists? “When one greets you, typically you are expected to return the greeting,” he said.

“Uh… hello?” Hat Kid wasn’t sure about this but… this guy wasn’t necessarily a bad guy. “Who are you?”

“I am Moonjumper. I hail from the horizon” He put a disformed hand to his chest and bowed slightly. “You go by Hat Kid, correct?”

“Yeah, how do you know that?”

“I’ve been watching you and Lukas. He’s basically adopted you even though he won’t admit it. It’s very cute.”

“Uh…” Hat Kid took a ‘step’ back, suddenly even more unsure. “I don’t know anyone named Lukas.”

Moonjumper grinned. Whether it was an actual malevolent grin or a mischievous one that just seemed evil because that’s how his face looked, was hard to tell. “But you do, you just don’t know that that’s his name.”

There were a lot of people she didn’t know the real names of – everyone on this planet seemed to want to go by their title for some reason expect for maybe DJ Grooves and that was probably a stage name – but there was really only one person he could be talking about, right? He hadn’t basically adopted her but he was definitely being very accommodating in letting her stay in his domain. “You mean… Snatcher?”

“Bingo.”

Oh! … Hat Kid lifted her hands to hid the grin coming to her face. She knew Snatcher’s real name! … How she’d found out was kind of dirty though, wasn’t it? It’d been given to her by this stranger who was probably telling her to annoy Snatcher. Unless he was lying… she’d have to test it later.

“I can see you are very happy to know that,” Moonjumper said. “Would you like to know more?”

Yes! But… “How do you anything about him at all?” As far as Hat Kid could tell, Snatcher was very secretive about everything having to do with his past. So much so that even the people who knew the tale of the prince and Queen Vanessa didn’t know the prince’s name or that he was Snatcher – she’d had to piece that out herself based off what she’d learned when she’d visited the manor. And even then, she hadn’t been sure until she’d confirmed it with him.

“His body is the vessel I am currently inhabiting.” Ah! Mystery solved at last! Was that a good thing or a bad thing though? “So, I know everything about him from when he was alive. He always wanted a daughter; seems he finally has one.”

It took Hat Kid a second to realize what he must mean by that. “I don’t think he sees me as a daughter.”

“Hmm… maybe not but maybe so too. It has been a long time since he lost this body. He’s changed since then, not as much as he thinks though. I believe he still secretly wants a kid, someone to pass his wisdom on to. … Not that he’s very wise, he just thinks he is.”

Hat Kid couldn’t exactly argue with that. But one thing she could argue with was… “Why are you just now introducing yourself to me? Can you only talk to official Subcon residents?” As much as she was enjoying learning about Snatcher, she also needed to know more about Moonjumper.

“Well, this is embarrassing but… when you first showed up, I was sleeping.” Meaning he wasn’t a ghost, right? Ghosts couldn’t sleep… except the Subconites could because they were possessing dolls and Moonjumper was possessing something too. A dead body but that probably still counted so… maybe he was ghost. “Not being able to pop in on you when you first entered kind of ruined my grand entrance idea so… I just let it go. But this is your home now so I need to introduce myself eventually. Besides, I’m getting rather bored, sitting around doing nothing, it’s time for something new.” He grinned again; mischievous or evil, it was still impossible to say for sure.

“Well uh… hello then. It’s good to finally meet you.” Copying his earlier move, Hat Kid put a hand to her chest and bowed slightly. “Thank you for telling me stuff about Snatcher.” She still wasn’t sure she trusted him or believed the things he’d said but… he didn’t seem too bad… maybe. She’d have to talk to Snatcher about him later. Not that Snatcher was the most reliable source of information on whether or not someone was good or bad since he disliked a lot of people for no reason and more often than not pretended to dislike the people he did like because he was just like that. “Can you tell me more?” She probably shouldn’t ask for more info but… she wanted know and it’s not like Snatcher would ever tell her anything about himself.

“Hmm…” Moonjumper lifted a hand to his chin in thought. “You probably already know he’s lawyer. He was known for being shrewd and sometimes harsh but fair and overall kind when alive. He was happy once upon a time too before Vanessa got her hands on him. She drove all his friends away, separated him from his family and orchestrated many of their deaths. Part of Lukas suspected but he didn’t know so I guess I don’t know for sure either. But I think she did, he just lied to himself about it because he’d convinced himself she was an angel. She’d sunk her claws so deep into him, escape would’ve been painful and he wasn’t willing to go through with it. Because of her, he even considered committing suicide a few times. Not seriously, mostly just idle thoughts, but if he had then maybe…”

“Please stop,” Hat Kid interrupted. That… wasn’t the kind of stuff she wanted to know. “That’s horrible, how can you sound so… so… like you don’t care?”

Moonjumper chuckled. “He’s the one who fell for her lies and false faces. He could’ve left at any time. He also considered that a few times when she first started isolating him and taking over his life, showing her true colours. He never did though even when his one last friend told him to over and over again. He got mad at her instead and she eventually died because of him, pretty horribly too, I think. In a way, everyone in Subcon died because of him. If he’d just…”

“Stop,” Hat Kid interrupted again. “Why are you telling me this?”

Moonjumper shrugged. “You wanted to know more.” And apparently, he just liked being an upsetting asshole.

“Well… I don’t want to know anymore. And… and… it’s not even your stuff to tell. Also, it’s not Snatcher’s fault so don’t blame him.” She didn’t know the specifics of what had happened but she did know that Snatcher couldn’t be held accountable for Vanessa’s actions. “So, stop it.”

Moonjumper chuckled. “Whatever you say young one. I suppose I will see you later. Good bye for now.” He winked before his form faded and disappeared.

Hat Kid crossed her arms as she looked all around at the burning forest surrounding her and her ship. He was gone, no trace of him remained. Was he still watching somehow though? … Possibly. Didn’t matter though, did it? She needed to go talk to Snatcher, confirm some things, apologize for other things.

Previous / Next

[popculturebuffet]

Reviewcaps: Mega Man: Fully Charged (BOOM!) #1

After 5 long years the Blue Bomber returns to comics and to the Fully Charged Universe! Things get a lot more grim as Aki grapples with a new robot army under actual robots, his buried past, and the fact Mega Mini is still around for some reason. Cracked skulls and dead cells under the cut. 

So i’m a huge mega man fan. I haven’t really talked about video games here because this is my first video game adaptation, but yeah, I love em and Capcom’s vast and awesome franchise of robots and humanoids in blue, and in one case red, is one of my faviorites. From children blowing up tons of robots from a balding man who dosen’t get the hint already, to the pacifist soldier forced to fight in a war against robot whales, buffalo, mammoths, and other bizzare robot animals, to his best friend who has amnesia for some reason fighting more robot animals because capcom ran out, to his human sucessors wearing him like a hat, to some guy who turns out to be a war machine I haven’t played yet because I haven’t gotten the chance to and is the only part of the franchise I haven’t, to another universe where he’s the ai versoin of a dead child whose now a teenager mentally, to that ai’s sucessor a shy child whose dad was kidnapped by a space monster and fuses reguarly with a much cooler space monster. What i’m saying Is I deeply love this franchise, this franchise is complicated iwth all the branches, and it’s also full of lovely nonsense. 

So naturally with that many versions and a decades long history Mega Man’s had a healthy life in one of my other faviorite meddieums: Comics. Over in his home country of Japan Mega Man’s had tons of Manga: The biggest and one of the few to make it here is Mega Man Megamix, a bunch of stories that, after the first two adapted the first two games in their own rough way, took place after each of the various games, and is pretty damn good. Others off the top of my head include a Mega Man x adaptation where X dates a mermaid, a weird mega man zero adaptation, and a longrunning adaptation of Mega Man Battle Network, all ones I need to read. 

Even Brazil had a Mega Man Manga... which I need to cover too.. less because it’s actually good or notable, and more because it’s BATSHIT INSANE, and you can read about it here. But the cliffs notes: Roll is an adult woman who goes around naked half hte time and is the most importnat character, X is master roshi with all the restraint and panty snatching that implies, and ther’es a character that one writer tried to have kill everyone and take over the comic.. yes really. I go most of this .l from that page but it’s documented on various wikis that this did actually happen. Just.. why. All of it.  Meanwhile in the US.. we didn’t get that many. No nintendo power adaptations despite being a huge franchise, no horrible malibu comics like street fighter got. There was one attempt by Dreamwave comics in the early 2000′s a series that only lasted 5 issues, and had mega man trying to go to school and some intresting if loose takes ont he franchise.. but the company bottomed out due to horirble mismanagment soon after and mega man sat ont he shelf for a while until the early 2010′s. At a time when Capcom had given up on the franchise, which has thankfully changed dramatically with the release of 11 and the various mega collections, they still gave the liscence to Archie comics, who, wanting some more of that sweet money they were getting off of sonic, gladly took the lisence and gave it to  Sonic Scribe and easily the best one the comic had during it’s long run, Ian Flynn, who set about adapting mega man from day 1, while incorperating nods and call forwards to the various other versions of the blue bomber, and adding his own nice touches. What i’ve read is really damn good and it’s a shame it got cut off right before the adaptation for mega man 4. I’m only being so brief as .. I intend to cover it like i’ve been saying. I love the character, Flynn’s comic was one of the best versions of him bar none, and I could use more comics content on here too. It’s a win win, smiles all around.  But yeah sadly Archie lost intrest in doing non-Archie stuff, with the Archie Horror Line proving a sucess and a reboot on the horizon. While I do LOVE Archie Comics, this edotiral decision still leaves a bad taste in my mouth and left fans without any mega man till 11 came out and any comics till this year, when the rights apparently lapsed and Boom! Studios, home of such great comics as the mighty morphing power rangers ongoing and JOhn Allison’s wonderful Giant Days, swept it up. Hopefully Boom! will reprint the archie comics eventually, but until then they decided to do a softish reboot of another version of the franchise, another one that like Archie had been given a raw deal.. but unlike Archie had issues: Mega Man; Fully Charged

While most of you probably know this as a refrsher Mega Man: Fully Charged was a cartoon from a few years back, a CGI adatpation of the games in an attempt to get in on that market by Ben 10 and Generator Rex maestro’s Man of Action. Like the Dreamwave comics it followed Mega Man, now Aki LIght as he went to school, did school stuff, and also fought rouge robots after school with secret powers he unlocked before the pilot and were never elaborated on in show.  The show kept Dr. Light, Mega Man’s creator and dad, and his dog Rush who while at first looking nothing like the games was later upgraded to resemble his game counterpart more from what i’ve heard and what’s present in this comic. Replacing Mega’s sister Roll, as his real name was Rock because the Mega Man staff loved musical puns, was Suna.. whos basically the same character but human and with an entirely diffrent design.  The show also, for whatever fucking reason, added... Mega Mini.. a tiny robot with a brooklyn accent who lived inside Aki, Mega Man’s regular name in this series which i’m fine with as while I do lik ehim going by Rock, I get that’s not really a name. Mini also manages his powers, makes stupid jokes and makes me pray for death but death won’t come. As you can tell I hate the little bugger from the handful of episodes i’ve watched. Rounding out our main heroes is Aki’s best friend Bert Wily, whose likely related to the canon wily and is your standard dorky best friend, but his roll as an inventor does come in handy since Mega hasn’t told his dad he’s a superhero, though it’s revealed in the end that he knows.. I did do my homework, even if i’ve only seen a handful of the series. More on that in a minute.  Opposing Mega Man were various robots from the games, adapted with varying degrees of design, from the good. 

To the okay if a bit weird. 

To the how the fuck is this airman. This is airman

Really good basic design. This is what fully charged calls airman, 

Why.. why not just make him Wind Man. He looks more like Wind Man.. why did ... I can bitch about this later when I cover the series, which, yes AGAIN I intend to. BUt seriously he has an awesome looking fan for a face. How do you screw that up. 

Behind the robot masters was Sgt. Night. See in a nice twist, and one of the things I like about the series, the world of Fully Charaged already had the kind of robot on human war that would plauge the main mega man timeline for centuries in the backstory, with LIght and Night being vetrans. Night being a racisit moron, wanted to keep robots apart and set up a false flag operation do do so as Commander Night. He however.. wasn’t a compelling vilian and apparnetly dosen’t really get better, not having any depth to his operations or actoins and his basic plan turns out to be, thank you research, to wipe all robots minds to be subservient.. he’s just.. bland compared to wily who while not complex in his motives, he just wants to take over the world, still has style and in some cases,real thought to his plans. Sure the vast majority are “blame it on someone else” but in a LOT of those cases, there’s still thorught and effort put into who he’s blaming to take doubt away from him. IN universe at least.  Helping night, is Namagem... yes Mega Man..spelled backwards and this series protoman, but hte character suprisingly DOES sound intresting... he just has one of the worst names in human history. Like my god, in god we trust why not just use proto man. the Character is basically proto man, with the interesting backstory of night kidnapping him, and apparently the series gets loads better once he arrives, so i’m not going to be too hard on the name, as the writers were likely stuck with it.    But as i’ve made apparent.. I haven’t watched much of the series. I do want to watch it all and i’m aware the second half is much better, but when trying to binge watch it at a friends house I only got about halfway through season 1, and then just forgot to keep going. And the series does have good pieces: a compelling background of a brutal war, mysteries to unlock, and a steady supply of new villians via the games long history and the series own original, and honestly intresting sounding and looking, robot masters... but it stapled all this to a “cocky hero fights vilians” every week setup we’ve seen a million times and didn’t grab me, but the intresting worldbuildnig and original bits do have me wanting to give it another try so look forward to that.  And with all the intresting bits i was truly invested to see a comic make more out of this part of the franchise,a nd was utterly excited, as it could be what the series could’ve been with less hampering by the various parties involved, as fully charged felt like it had a lot of executive madates slapped on. So free of those and free to be whatever it wants with Joe Kelly advising, what has fully charged become? let’s take a look. 

We Open 6 months after the series with the comic helpfully catching us via news broadcast.. and the art being moody with washed out colors the tone having done a 180. Seriously it is kind of weird for this unvierse to go from early generator rex, a dark backstory with a bizzarely cheery tone to full on Blade Runner or to put it in mega man terms, The Megas. Seriously the breif bit of silicon city we see , the constant rain as a mysteroius figure whose revealed at the end of the next page to be Namagem.. I expect that a pretty hologram in a raincoat is going to pop up next to him any moment... what I can pick which blade runner I want to refrence. Shoo. 

Anyways a broadcast debate between a human reporter and her robot coanchor , ron roburgundy as I will call him, fills us in on exposition, while Mega Man himself narrators like this is a noir.. again i’m half expecting harrison ford to show up. Aki muses about how the city, HIS CITY, almost fell.. oh god is frank miller writing this? Are we going to get a middle schooler talking about how much he wants to make love to a city because no one wants that.  Anyways, we get expostion, both for anyone who hadn’t watched the series to give us the cliff notes, and to also catch up returning fans on what they missed. I like it, despite not having watched fully charged to the end, or known exactly what happened until research, this fills it in nicely: At the end of season 1, as I explained earlier Night was arrested, and is thankfully not a part of it nor is his foghorn leghorn attempt at a southren accent. However the remaning Robot Masters are still rioting and a new army of them has started a legit revolution, vandalizing the good guild, which still has that name for some reason despite the tone shift, who are about as compitent as the name implies. Here’s file footage of them fighting Pharoah Man. 

Anyways Dr. Light is going to negotiate peace and as I mentoned earlier nams is watching with a glare on his face. And yeah I .. I can’t keep calling him Namagem. That name is just bad and whoever came up with it is one of the biggest morons in marketing history as is whoever decided to force the poor creative team to use it. However while he is Protoman in ways.. it just dosen’t fit. The two were made together in this unvierse, maybe we’ll see as this comic fills in the blanks, and furthermore he’s a bit of protoman and bass.. and since protobass sounds stupid, and blues dosen’t work without the theme naming.. i’m going with Breakman, protoman’s disgusie from 3. With the heavy scaring, broken past and general state of him it just.. fits and HOPEFULLY the comic will give him a full on rename. If it does i’ll go with that but for now I just want to keep from slamming my head into a keyboard every time I have to type out NAMAGEM... excuse me. 

hgfjnhnghbjnh

That’s better. Okay so moving on from my new headache, we cut to the desert where the good guild, which is somehow even worse than Breakman’s actual name, are escorting light to a bunker in the desert, where the robots outside tell light to leave the good guild inside. Just as well he’d be better protected with a paper mache sword anda  note telling them to go away. 

Naturally, not long inside the robot masters leader forces light to bow and handcuffs him, before revealing himself. 

Skull Man. Who looks really badass in this thought, the skulls themed scrap throne, his regal posture and his speeches about how he feels that the only way things will be right, and settled is not by the fragile peace silicon city has but by humans beneath his rather sizable boots. And honestly.. he was a good choice for the main robot antagonist: Skull Man’s always had a cool look to him and most versions of him have been pretty cool, and the Megas gave him one hell of a theme song. If you haven’t heard of htem the Megas are an indie rock band that do reworkings of the various songs from mega man games, at the time of this recording a full album for 2, two full albums for 3, an ep for 1, and scattered other songs since the second 3 album, with plans to do their next full album on mega man x. Each of the stage themes for the robot masters is from the prosepctive of one of them and are really damn good and I’d recommend thema nd skullman’s.. really fits him here. take a listen. 

But yeah Skull Man feels like a good choice for a menacing revolutionary, as well as a former combat robot as he himself was apparently in the hard wars. He honestly reminds me a lot of more than meets the eye megatron in flashbacks.. just good stuff. But being in the wars, he’s naturally not too fond of repetant vetran light and plans to kill him as an example. Light however.. isn’t an idiot.. a good man who seeks to do his best, who came in good faith.. but just in case he put some sort of device under his skin and presses it, signaling his son to come save his ass. And thus he does come ...

And one of skullman’s minons mistakes him for a bomb.. which light clarifies i’ts a BLUE BOMBER. To skullman’s credit his response is to just order them to go full throttle showing no panic as Mega Man makes his entrance. 

Light thanks him by.. asking what took him so long.. when his son, whose a middle schooler mind you, had to fight through a bunch of armed assholes to get in here most likely. Mini shows up to my annoyance.. though credit where it’s do his zinger of what took so long “some birds, a plane, some guy in a cape” is actually.. really funny. I question why they kept him at ALL, but hey, at least he’s less grating and isn’t around long.. more on that in a minute. 

A really well drawn action scene insues.. while the expressions vary for this comic, I will give the fight scnee, I will give the artist credit for having fluid motion and nice pops of color, most things are kind of blendy into the background other than major character but the color pops where it should.. not exactly my style but it works okay. In a nice change of his character though, Aki offers to spare the various robots there of a fight and possible death, as while he already attacked them it was in self defense.  And while it is a 180 from the show.. it’s not only a welcome change as it’s closer to the games canon and a more intersting personality.. it also still works. Aki went through a LOT at the end of season 1: while he did win, he found out he had a brother, his dad knew who he was but was never honest with him about it and also likely knows where his power came from but hasn’t told him, and has had to deal with 6 months worth of rioting where he’s unsure what side he’s on, machine like he is or man like his family. He’s trying to find the right ballance; be the hero his city needs.. but be the man he needs to be, one who will spare his enemies and won’t fight unless he needs to, for the good fo everyone, His friends, his family, everyone in the city who deserves to sleep soundly. And he’s also starting to wonder, via narration of course, if he’s a hero.. or even a kid.. or a weapon> Which again while a bit of a shift from the series again makes sense: he’s a middle school aged boy who started this jsut fighting random assholes and some idiot racist who was transparently evil and had selfish goals.. now he’s fighting against a revolution who MIGHT have a point. While Silcion city seemd fine and equal.. there wer eplenty of idiot swilling to listen to night. As the real world has proven over the last few months, just because things have gotten better, dosen’t mean that things are 100% or that prejudice is just gone. He’s a 12 year old asked to take a stand in a messy conflict that lead to war in the past with his father offering no answers and growing colder. While I thought his angst was  bit overblown on first reading the more I think about it the more it fits. 

Anyways Mega makes short work of the skull squad after they refuse to back down, but while Mega Man’s ready to ghost.. Skull Man’s not done and drills into mega man’s head... and reveals something. Flashbacks. 

But yeah, Skull Man’s either implanted or restored some memory of Aki fighting in the hard wars.. right alongside dr. light.. with a drill because science. DR. Light then gets REALLY badass, breaking out of the robot restraining him’s grip before fucking UPERCUTTING Skull Man.. jesus christ, Dr.Light clearly traded his empathy for miraclo pills holy balls.  Rush helps him escape and take Aki with him but skull man’s confident, he lost the battle but won Mega’s mind.  On the way home Mega Man tells dr.light what he saw and isn’t sure if it’s the past the future or something else but Dr.Light assures him..

Even though his eyes give away he’s clearly hiding something. Also I haven’t mentioned it yet but Dr.Light looks like santa in this sisue, red shirt, blue pants, big white beard. Just.. why though. Just put him in a suit or something. Also Mini crawls out of Mega’s head and passes out due to the memory restoration.. a nice way to write him out while still giving it weight since while the audience is presumibly cheering his long overdue demise, he is aki’s friend.. why I have no idea but he is.  Back at the lighthouse, the light’s home and home base, which is admitely a really good alternate name for light labs and a better one in my opinon. Light brushes off Suna, telling her to go to bed and avoiding telling her anything. Yeahhh.. while it could be the pressure of the situation I really dont’ like dr.light’s characterization before. Fully Charged, outside of the whole secret identity thing which at least was expalined as Aki not knowing if his dad would let him continue as mega man if he knew, though it extended clearly past the point he was clearly supporting mega man’s actions so I dunno. But he was a compationste scientest, deeply ashamed of his past in the war and wanting to make peace, he was done really well and peformed well by gary chalk. Here? He’s a dick who clearly did something terrible in the past and treats his kids like crap. It’s okay to be suspcious of him given the flashback but he’s given us no reason to like him or want to hear his side eventually, and hopefully that changes. 

Suna talks to Aki who tells her what happened and both side give out good arguments; Suna points out she reallyc an’t trust what some creepy asshole put in his head, as Skull Man could just want to brainwash him.. but Aki counters easily and quietly: How’s he supposed to know what’s real if his dad won’t tell him anything? He took months to tell Aki he knew about his alter ego, and even before his id came out avoided talking about the hard war, which hasn’t changed. He vows to find out though, and Suna naturally is helpful, pointing out there’s more people to ask and since she actually pays attention in school she knwos just who.. Dr. Wily. Yup he’s finally here. dun dun dun. We then close as Breakman watches and tells his brother he can’t stop what’s started. And we’re out.  Mega Final Thoughts: This was a decent issue, doing a fair job of bringing in new readers, and the art was decent and matched the tone.. which If elt was a bit too bleak at times. Better than say a Zack Snyder film at least, but still a bit too close to that form of edgelord for my case. That said it opens up some intresting mysteries and has me at least willing to give it another shot next month and was a solid opener, which while not having the best charcterzation for dr light, vastly improved Aki and Suna’s while giving us a far more intersting villian in Skull Man. If this holds, we’ll see. But until then I plan to cover more mega man comics, as well as my continued weekly coverage of amphibia. Until I see you again, stay safe, wear a mask and later days

[miraimisu]

Funny/random 6

—

Gladion doesn’t know what to expect when he gets an emergency call from Hau at 4 a.m. in the morning. He’d been barely awake when he picked up the phone, but he recalls the distinct buzz of chatter and laughter in the background of the call and what had sounded like Ilima cheering on to someone that, if Gladion is to trust his instinct and previous experiences, will surely be Moon.

When he reaches Melemele, still half asleep and wearing clothes that don’t match in colors, shirt wrongly put with the front on his back, he hears Hau laughing hysterically at a secluded point of the beach as Moon seemingly builds a cage made of bricks around Ilima’s barely conscious form. She’s about at shoulder’s height when Gladion gets to her.

“What–” Gladion sputters. Moon turns to him, innocent and unknowing. “What exactly are you doing?”

“I’m building a cage.”

“A cage?”

“A cage of bricks.”

“And cement,” points Hau out, earning a soft nod from Moon who, unfazed by Gladion’s presence, dabs a thick layer of cement on the brick and slaps it on top of another. “Ilima and Moon made a bet.”

The Champion (who would surely lose her job if Kukui caught her red-handed) shrugs nonchalantly. “Ilima was all like ‘I bet you can’t cage a Pokémon in’ and I told him that’s abusive, so we resorted to cage him instead. We had to drag him here ‘cause he passed out the second we sealed the deal.” Moon wags her eyebrows. “He’s not gonna see it coming.”

“He literally won’t see if you cage him in. You’re not even leaving a gap for him to see through, dude.” Hau shakes his head. “Building him a cage is fine, but he’s gotta breathe somehow.”

Gladion, trying to shake the spoors of sleep off his organism, frowns at the two. “How is that worrying you and not the fact that he won’t be able to leave?” Both Hau and Moon shrug, either ignorant or too drunk to care. “Where did you even get all this from?”

Moon finally stops building, brick on her hand dripping with wet cement. “Did you know the mall is rebuilding its entrance because of that bad storm last week?” Gladion shakes his head. “I didn’t either until… an hour ago. Maybe a little less.”

Gladion watches her build with uncanny calmness. Maybe he’s too tired to care, maybe it’s the way the moonlight shapes her or how the murmur of the waves washing at his feet tranquilizes him, but it’s hard for him to complain about something that, legally speaking, the victim can’t prove he saw. On the basis of law he’s innocent and Moon’s the criminal.

Which he means he should get her to drop all those tools that she somehow knows how to use.

“Moon,” he says her name calmly, coughing the raspiness of sleep away. She whips her head to him, eyes bright and at attention. “Drop the brick and walk away. Slowly. I’m scared you might trip in your state.”

“I’m fine. I’m not drunk.” The spite in her voice would be credible if it weren’t for the light daze glossing her eyes. “I’m a very professional Champion doing Alola a favor. This should count as community work.”

Gladion turns to Hau, as though he will convince her, but the young Kahuna shrugs and sighs. “Tried my best earlier. She’s not gonna let it go. That’s why I called you.” He gets on his feet. Moon pays no heed to his departure. “Maybe she’ll save the tourists from Ilima’s weird flirting. He says he does it unintentionally but I think something’s fishy there.”

“I fell for the charm when I began my Island Challenge,” both men turn to Moon, blinking in surprise. “I got some dignity. He deserves it for making me lose my cool. He’s got this sway of his words that could turn stones pink.”

Hau nods solemnly. Gladion stares at her like she just grew another head out of thin air, surprised. The other snickers, knowing that Moon won’t hear them, deeply focused on her task. 

Gladion narrows his eyes at him. “Don’t cry about it, my dude. She’s well over it.” Hau regards the scene one last time, wincing as Moon slaps a brick on so hard it nearly shatters. He turns to the President once more. “I thought I could take advantage of that thing you two got goin’ on–”

“We have nothing going on.”

“Sure, whatever you say. Anyway, I thought I could ask you to take her home since I honestly can’t. I’m so drunk I don’t know how I’m even awake, man.” He points at Moon with his thumb, grinning. “She’s a handful and I got work tomorrow. I’m passing her on to you. Don’t do anything funny to her.”

Gladion swings his eyes to her, watching her nonchalantly work on her little masterpiece, and then looks at Hau. “What do I get out of this?”

“Moon is really cute when she’s hammered.”

“She’s cute every day.” Gladion is so tired he might as well let that slip. It’s not like any of these idiots is gonna remember anyway.

“She’s also super honest and you might get you two’s feelings and all that stuff on the road.”

Gladion thinks this through for two exact seconds.

“Deal.”

Hau animatedly shakes his hand with Gladion’s, then stalks off along the beach. “Take care of her! Good luck, dude!”

Hau also falls face-first into the sand but Gladion doesn’t stay to pay attention to that, and instead walks towards Moon with all the time in the world, quietly watching her work.

“Are you aware this is a little bit illegal?”

“Under what law?”

“Under rationality’s law,” he mutters. That gets Moon to stop, as she calmly sets the brick on top, but it doesn’t stick to the wall. “Do you realize that when Kukui finds out about this, he will give you a colossal earful?”

Moon grins. It’s full of teeth and devoid of good intentions. “He doesn’t need to know. And even if he did, this is my very own masterpiece, I’ll have you know.” Moon pats the cage in what could be closest defined as kindness and fondness. “This is my mark. My heritage for the world to take. It’ll outlive all of us.”

“You’re a famous Pokémon trainer, a Champion, and yet you decide that this is your remarkable feat in history?”

The way she blinks at him leads him to believe she’s genuinely confused. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Let me phrase it another way,” Gladion clears his throat, choosing to entertain her for a little longer. “Do you realize that you won’t remember any of this tomorrow and that Kukui will realize this was yours and will force you to take it down brick by brick?”

“Why would he know?”

Gladion simply points to the bottom of the cage. “You wrote your name with a Sharpie.”

Moon huffs. “That could be somebody trying to incriminate me.”

“It’s your signature. You even drew a small Rowlet.” Gladion narrows his eyes at the scribbled owl. “It looks too horrible to be the work of anybody but you.” 

Moon rolls her eyes, yet stops her work to contemplate her options. “If Ilima wakes up and sees himself free and uncaged, he’ll think I’m a coward and that I didn’t stick to the bet.”

“Don’t you think it’d be much better if he thought you’re the rational Champion we all love and not insane when drunk?”

Her eyes widen and a lovely grin curls her lips, much more teasing and amazed than intoxicated. “Aw, you love me? Really?”

That seems to be doing the trick, and it’s not like she’s going to remember any of this tomorrow so he chooses to be truthful, nodding. “Yeah, I’ve loved you for years now. You’re just too dumb to see it.”

“Well, I can see it now!”

“You’ll forget about this tomorrow, Sherlock,” he mutters, very much disgraced that her delight by his declaration is but a side-effect of her intoxication. “C’mon, I’ll take you home.”

Sighing as she pouts, he brings an arm down to her waist and another under her legs, proceeding to carry her away. Moon instantly complains. “Hey! We were having a lovely conversation and I’m busy with my descendants’ heirloom!”

“You won’t remember any of this tomorrow and it’s not like you mean any of what you’re saying right now,” Gladion laments, walking across the beach, making a sharp turn to the right. “You can sleep if you want. We’ll be there in a bit.”

Much to his surprise, Moon has gone quiet. He refuses to look down lest he gets distracted by the image of something that would be romantic if it weren’t for how drunk she is. Gladion sometimes wishes Arceus wouldn’t bless him with moments like these where things are going great at the wrong time.

After a few minutes of silent walking, she presses her cheeks on his chest. “I’ll make an effort to remember this.”

“It’s mathematically impossible for someone as drunk as you to remember all that happened tonight.”

“I’ll beat the odds and make an effort. If I don’t remember, you can always tell me tomorrow,” her words are muddled at the end by the yawn she lets out, all before shifting in his arms. “Just… Just you wait, Gladion. I’ll get you to say that again, you hear me? That way I can tell you how I feel too.”

Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to tell her again in the future. People say drunk people are honest. Maybe she’s being honest. She’s always honest, after all.

Gladion smirks to himself. “Sure. I’ll be waiting.”

“Good,” she yawns again. “That’s what I like to hear…”

And she falls asleep like that. Her breath evens out and she goes silent, making Gladion stop in his tracks to check if she’s actually asleep.

Under the opportune light of a lamppost and his shadow, she looks at ease and comfortable, peacefully asleep even if his arms are (or should be) anything but comfortable. Her lips are parted slightly and her brow is no longer tense in apprehension and false euphoria, but softened and calm.

Chuckling, he presses a kiss on her forehead and keeps on walking to her house, smiling all the while and silently wondering how Ilima will get out of the trap Moon had built around her.

But oh well, that’s not for him to worry about.

—

[Prompt list]

[yourmomswallet]

Imagine...

Meeting Fugo while he’s playing the piano. ***Part 5 Spoilers***

Why were you at this bar at midday? What compelled you to walk 4 blocks from work, just to sit and watch this lonely looking man play the piano? His fingers move with such passion, it seems he’s been perfecting his abilities for years. After you sat down at a table, you couldn’t take your eyes off him. His eyes scan the keyboard, solemn and reflective like the haunting melodies he plays.

You can’t handle the glum attitude he plays with. Whether or not he’s the bar’s employee, you have to make amends to the aura he emits. Grabbing something out of your briefcase, you walk over towards him with purpose.

“Excuse me, sir? Could you play something a little more... upbeat?” you ask him, trying to be as polite as possible.

He doesn’t look up, only ignoring you and playing more intensely, to the point where you think he’ll break the ivory off.

You frown at his intentional disregard. Money appears in the blonde’s face, which makes him glare at your hand. Couldn’t you see he’s pouring out his anger and grief and guilt? He wants to stab that hand with a fork. A fork. Stabbing. He can only think of Narancia. Every little thing he tries to forget keeps coming back to haunt him.

You shake the bills a bit to get his attention. His playing stops.

“So, Mr. Piano Man? You up to the task?” Your eyebrow raises.

The money is smacked out of your hand. Unbelief floods your face and emotions. How dare he?

You bend down and pick the money off the floor. Now angry with the man, you slam your fist on the keyboard, hard enough to get his attention. The sudden smash makes him look up at you. Oh, shit. He’s crying.

“A-Are you okay, sir? Did I scare you o-or something? Sir?”

You can’t seem to get him to calm down, his own hands banging the keys in frustration. Why can’t he seem to get them out of his mind? Was this a curse from not being loyal to his friends? He did what he needed to do, so it was justified.

The small piano stool was long enough for you to scoot yourself on to comfort the thin man. You hesitate to wrap your arms around him, waiting for him to push your arms off. He never makes a move, only his shoulders that prove he’s crying. Looking around, you see the customers are looking at your situation. Scowling at them, their stares disperse. You pat the skin and bones of a man. He feels like he could break, like he’s eaten nothing for the past months.

“Is this okay? D-Do you- Am I overstepping? I know we just met, but I can’t leave without making sure you’re okay.” Concern is all he can hear from you.

“I don’t want your pity. I don’t want your money. And I especially don’t need your HUG!” He pushes your arms away, making you jump off the stool.

“Hey! This isn’t pity, this is empathy. I know how it feels to breakdown, to hurt. We all need someone to lean on in times like this. Do you believe me?” Your anger is dispersed by the real worry. “I’m not telling you to let me in on your top secrets or anything. Just let me be a shoulder to cry on for now.”

“Why do you think I’m deserving of this treatment? I’ve done nothing but wrong.” His fingers fly across the keys, making a terrible sound. His fist pounds into the ivory again. At this rate, he’ll be paying for another piano again.

“H-Hey, let’s take our hands off the expensive instrument. Don’t need the owner getting involved, now do we?” You’re trying your hardest to keep him invested in the conversation, but it’s not working too well.

His warm hands are gathered up by your cool, smooth ones. He hasn’t had this kind of physical contact in ages. His body soaks it up, wanting more gentle caresses and hugs. But his brain, his brain tells him he’s only deserving of pain and suffering after all he’s done. Or hadn’t done.

“Tell me, Mr. Piano Man, what’s your name?” you ask him while stroking his hands with yours.

“I can’t say. I’d put you in danger. I can’t have another person being hurt because of me.”

“You act as if I can’t handle myself. Geez. Well, if you don’t want to say, I’ll just have to read your mind. Is that okay with you?”

“There’s no way you have psychic abilities of any kind. It’s not humanly possible,” he states, looking at you skeptically. “Go ahead, if you actually can.”

“All right then. This won’t hurt at all.”

“What do you mea- Hey! That’s my ear!” he shouts. He cups his left in after your finger leaves the canal.

“This is the way I can read your mind, sort of. Just give me a second.”

His visible disgust is shown when you stick the wax in your mouth. You’re insane. What kind of person sticks the bodily products of a stranger in their mouth and claims it makes them read minds? Maybe you’re the one with more problems than him.

“Let’s begin. A child prodigy, sort of college dropout, gangster, and all-around angry son of a bitch. Any of that right, Fugo?” You raise your eyebrows, signaling for him to correct you.

“E-Everything you just said was technically… correct. I might have some anger issues, but who doesn’t!” He glares at you. Too caught up in the moment, he realizes that the ability to taste earwax and learn about someone’s past isn’t exactly normal. He lowers his voice. “Are you perhaps a Stand user?”

The confusion in your voice is evident as you tell him you haven’t a clue of what he’s talking about.

“The ability manifested when I visited the desert in the United States. All of a sudden I had this magical gift. I’m not telling how I figured out how it works though. That’s personal.”

“It’s most likely a Stand of some kind. Since you know all about me, you must know about my Stand, Purple Haze. Don’t worry, no one can see Stands unless they’re a Stand user themselves.”

Some weird, rabid looking creature and man hybrid appears behind him. If that’s what a “Stand” looks like, you definitely don’t have one.

“S-So this is… a Stand?” You reach out to touch it, but all you get is drool. Your face scrunches up in disgust.

“Why do you look so appalled? You just ate my earwax,” Fugo says. 

“There’s a difference between wanting to touch someone’s bodily fluids and getting them without consent.” You wipe your hand off on your pants. You must look like an idiot trying to touch something no one else can theoretically see.

“So, now that we’ve been introduced, can I try to help you? I’ve got about…” You look down at your watch. “10 minutes before I have to be back at work. I have a feeling you need a real hug.”

“I said I don’t need hugs. I don’t need anything, all right?”

“The least I can do is give you money for some food. I don’t want my new friend starving to death.” You place the money onto the piano.

“Who says we’re friends?”

“Me, of course.”

“Not to call you a liar, but I highly doubt that you want to be my friend.” He looks away, fingers playing another sad melody.

“Will you stop it with the self-loathing at the moment? I want to be friends because I want to. No other false intentions.”

“Sure, whatever you say. Fine. Prove what you say is true. I can’t blindly trust someone with information on me.” He stares you down with an intensity that has you wondering why you’re shaking inside. “Be here at the same time tomorrow. Maybe I’ll trust you then.”

“Okay, doubting Thomas. I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Promise.”

You walk away to grab your briefcase. So much for getting those papers filled out. As you leave the bar, you can hear the faint sound of a more pleasant sounding tune coming from the piano. You grin, happy that you’ve given him something to dwell on other than the deaths of his friends.

The bar door opens and closes constantly as Fugo looks behind him, obviously searching for you. It’s not like he wants to be your friend, but he doesn’t need anyone with his personal information walking around the streets of Italy. By the time your lunch break should be finished, he sees the exact briefcase as yesterday. Your bright smile and wave make him feel a little happier for some reason.

“Told you I’d be here! Sorry that I’m late. I had to talk to my boss about getting the rest of the day off.”

“N-No problem. Might I ask, why did you request for the day off?” Fugo is genuinely curious about your actions and intentions. There’s no way you would want to spend the rest of your busy day with a lousy nobody like him.

“I wanted full, uninterrupted time to keep you company. Did you eat anything with the money I gave you yesterday?” You seem awfully interested in his well-being, from what he can gather.

“Y-Yeah, I got a small margarita pizza. I’ll pay you back for it.” He goes to pull his wallet out of his pocket, but your hand stops him.

“Don’t bother with that. It’s useless.” You sound like Giorno. The new recruit. Now the Boss himself. He feels like crying again but holds back, not wanting to cause a scene like yesterday.

“Then what am I supposed to do? I can’t leave a debt unpaid.”

“Teach me to play, Mr. Piano Man,” you tell him, a smile on your face.

“I have the tendency to get angry when I’m frustrated. I’m warning you now.”

“Oh, scoot over. Friends can’t hurt friends.” You put your briefcase down and push him to the right side of the stool.

Friend. Fugo finds himself liking the idea, oddly enough.

[katebeckets]

Lover track by track

SO. I’m currently out of the country and it took me awhile to finish this, but I’m sharing my thoughts for anyone who cares to read it. There’s SO much more to say and I wish it was better written because I like when words are nice and convey exactly what you want to say (I’m doing this all on my phone) but you get the general feel and that’s what’s important, the emotions. Come talk to me if you want!!!!

I tried to put a read more but I’m not sure if I can on mobile? Because mobile is its own special nightmare so I’m soRRY

I Forgot That You Existed | The way this song starts (and the whole thing) reminds me a lot of a Lauv song. Something about it just does. It’s a wonderful start to the album, I think, because it IS her moving on, but it isn’t yet the level of “step into the daylight and let it go.” It’s the first step; it’s realizing that not everyone deserves a place in your life, but closer to Reputation than other songs on the album (like the “so... yeah” which I LOVE but, I think, has a slightly different attitude than she ends with). I love her delivery of different lines in this song; you can hear the freedom in her comments, giggles, and speaking.

Cruel Summer | I saw a post that said fans of “Getaway Car” would like this one and I GET IT now. It’s inexplicably tied to that song in my mind, something about the production and melody and everything, even the ending on the third beat. And I love it. One thing I’ve missed about pre-1989 is her lyrics; not to say any album of hers doesn’t have insanely clever and meaningful lyrics (because they all do), but I think there is just something so incredible about her Speak Now and Red lyrics especially. It’s part of why pop music in general isn’t my main genre. But this early on and I knew Lover was everything I have ever wanted in a pop album. “Taylor Swift” is its own genre, and will always be my favorite genre, but this song just... so perfectly marries her older songwriting with her newer song production. Her voice when she calls him a devil oh my that was god tier I swear—and lines like “devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes” and “in these trying times we’re not trying” are so clever and akdjslsjsk I love Taylor Alison Swift.

Lover | She mentioned that the album was almost called Daylight and even though I might’ve preferred that (lover is still not my favorite word), I’m so happy that “Lover” is the, as she calls it, flagship song. There is a palpable warmth and security in the tone of the song, and you can hear her smile as she sings. She is in love—a real, steadfast, quiet love. A love that isn’t composed of extraordinary moments that her younger self fantasized about in songs, but of little details and daily routines and the way love’s presence pervades every aspect of life.

The Man | Ugh she IS a fearless leader, she IS the alpha type—to write a song with as much BDE as this you have to be. She is the shit and she knows it, and I love the lyrics and vocabulary of the song! Like how she talks about being able to separate behavior from ideas and accomplishments or actions from character—it’s such a difficult thing to really work into a song as seamlessly as she does. Also, THE BRIDGE. Holy moly. I think it’s one of my favorite bridges on the album. I had no idea how badly I needed to hear her say “bitch” like this. I love her.

The Archer | I SEE RIGHT THROUGH ME! I SEE RIGHT THROUGH ME!!!! Also, the transition into “you could stay...” is just so beautiful. And I think it’s such an interesting choice that she doesn’t end it there, that she goes back to combat. It echoes what she says in “I Forgot That You Existed,” that she would’ve fought the whole town for them. She’s opening herself up to someone new and asking them to stay, but saying that if they do, she’s ready to fight for this love.

I Think He Knows | “Boy, I understand.” That’s it that’s the whole tweet. (Not). But also the snaps and “we can follow the sparks, I’ll drive” is just ?!?!!! Mind blowing. She’s incredible.

Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince | Okay... this was the most unexpected love for me, even though I know titles don’t mean anything, I was so surprised how much I love this one. I love the “okay!” and the way she yells different words, it really echoes the sounds of a high school sports game and that’s just so smart because that’s the theme of this song. I don’t know it’s just SO GOOD. And there are some really heartbreaking lyrics (“you are the only one who seems to care,” “no cameras catch my pageant smile/muffled cries”) where you just get this sense of loneliness and fear and in its own way it reminds me of “Safe and Sound,” when she says “don’t you dare look out your window.” The five of this song feels like her holding her lover’s hand and running behind him with their heads down through the storm of a high school hallways—“now the storm is coming but it’s you and me, that’s my whole world.”

Paper Rings | For whatever reason, this song gives me major “The Middle” vibes. I saw someone say that it’s “‘Stay Stay Stay’ 2.0” and it makes it even more adorable because then she was daydreaming about real love again... and now she’s here. The prechorus is everything, so much of this album has left me incoherent with its sheer perfection and genius honestly it’s so hard to comprehend... her MIND. It’s so cute I hate I can’t believe I literally could cry and also there’s one part where she says “I’m with YOU!” and it made me think she’s saying “YOU!” in the way she says “ME!” with that pure celebration and joy and loving him because he’s the only one of him, too. I’m with YOU like ME also that sigh and how she says she wants ALL of it, the complications and dreary Mondays and to have him in ALL her dreams, good, bad, and in-between. Just like she wants his midnights... she wants all the midnight moments, the celebrations, the magic... but ALSO wants to be around for absolutely everything, cleaning up bottles on New Year’s Day. The everyday, quiet moments of companionship.

Cornelia Street | Oh... this one is surprisingly hard for me to listen to. When I first heard “Lover,” I brought up this Brené Brown quote about rehearsing tragedy—she talks about how joy is the most vulnerable emotion we experience. It’s so hard to immerse ourselves in joy because of how fragile it feels (she says it more eloquently), and that’s where this song hits for me. “Lover” is her being able to experience joy and contentment and let go of the need to prepare for the worst while “Cornelia Street” references the pull to dress rehearse tragedy. The song captures the risk of opening up to happiness, love, joy, any good feeling... because how could you survive if you lose that? Isn’t it better if you never feel so deeply and don’t have to worry about what’ll happen if you lose it? And she talks about that fear, about not wanting to open up and risk being hurt or made a fool of when she says she left Cornelia Street... but then he showed his hand (don’t even get me started on that line oh my heart). That song walks that delicate line of not dress rehearsing tragedy, but really conveying the vulnerability in finding any kind of love. And I love that she ties it to a street, to this concrete place that is nothing spectacular but for her is associated with her most cherished memories. Because that’s the other thing about love and loss—it’s not only extraordinary moments that matter. Love touches every part of your life.

Death by a Thousand Cuts | What a METAPHOR. Like holy shit. “Flashbacks waking me up,” “looking through the windows,” “can’t pretend it’s okay when it’s not.” It’s death by a thousand cuts. It’s prolonged and painful and persistent. It lingers. Ugh her MIND is just so brilliant and I feel so lucky that I happen to be alive at the same time as her? Like how wild is that???? “Paper cut stings from my paper thin plans” is so clever?? The way she says “lawless” is so good???? And the LONELINESS of asking a traffic light if it will be alright... of hoping for a sign, any kind of sign. And rather than saying she found comfort or affirmation, she says their answer was “I don’t know.” The courage and loneliness and fear and heartbreak of living with that uncertainty... this is So Much™

London Boy | This song is so Pure 🥺 Like... that’s it that’s the song it’s so fucking cute and simple and sweet, using all these London terms... it is Soft and Pure there is no other way to describe this song.

Soon You’ll Get Better | I knew as soon as I heard about this song that it would be one of my favorites because it’s just who I am... but this song is so beautiful and reminds me of her older work because of how simple the production is. I think a lot of why I love this song is the same as why I love “You Learn to Live Without” and my analysis would be similar—the chorus is so simple and repetitive because she’s repeating it to herself, to her family, to anyone. “You’ll get better soon... because you have to.” It’s like telling someone, promising them, that it’ll be okay; you can’t know, you can’t ever know. But sometimes you say it because you have to. Because there’s no other option. In “You Learn to Live Without,” it’s a similar situation... almost every line starts with what “you learn” how to do. It’s repetitive and she relies on that when she falters. It feels like there’s no way to survive such a devastating loss, but you learn, because you have to. There’s no other option. The song is so simple and the lyrics are everything that makes Taylor Swift music so special. Personal, specific, and yet relatable in, even because of, its specificity. You can hear her shaky breaths, which is always devastating. The bridge took my breath away because I’ve expressed those exact feelings before, and it hurts my heart that she’s felt it but it also is why I love her so much, because it connects so deeply.

False God | Going from “Soon You’ll Get Better” to this is a LOT (to be fair, anything would be) but it also reminds me of desperation and makes sense in that way—how you turn to anything at all, even a false god, if it will help you make it through. And that line about daring him to leave her... what a mood. But also bless Joe Alwyn. Also we neED TO TALK ABOUT THE FLAWLESS TRANSITION INTO YNTCD THAT WAS SO SATISFYING HER M I N D.

You Need to Calm Down | The “oh-oh” totally gets to me because when she was about 12-14 months, my focal child used to go “uh-oh” in almost the exact same way, so I always hear it in her voice. I love these lyrics because they’re just... so fun?? To shout???? And SHADE NEVER MADE ANYBODY LESS GAY SO

Afterglow | I had no idea what to expect from this song, but I love it. The connection she makes about fighting because there’s “chemistry until it blows” is so good because then you can really picture and understand what she means when she says “meet me in the afterglow.” It’s the quiet after the storm, when things are calm and hazy and you can take a step back and reflect. You can truly listen. And if you stay, like she asks him to, you can survive it. You may even have a stronger relationship because of it. And she wrote this song about taking responsibility and the messy parts of a relationship and how hard it is when you hurt someone you love and it’s just so beautiful that she allows us into this process, all the messy and flawed lessons in learning how to heal and forgive and love.

ME! | I’m so proud of her for reaching this point because it’s true, she’s the only one of her. There will never be another Taylor Swift... her incredible ability to write songs, to make music, to connect, her generosity, her love, everything about her... she is SO special.

It’s Nice to Have a Friend | I’m going to give this one a little more time because I love the idea of the song, the lyrics, the simplicity, but I need more time to really decide how I feel.

Daylight | This song makes me so emotional in the way I always get when I listen to “Call It What You Want” and hear how happy she is, she’s doing better than she ever was... she’s so happy and I love her so much and this is all I wanted for her agh but also this song, what a beautiful song. “I’ll tell you the truth but never goodbye” is just... unconditional love. I’m in love with the way she sings “daylight,” it echoes the entire song. Something about it is just lighter, louder in a soft, airy, ethereal way. It gets lighter, like you can hear it take on the quality of daylight. There’s so many things calling it back to old songs, too. I kept thinking about “this love is glowing in the dark” because this song is about how love, true love, is golden like daylight. It glows. And how she’s been sleeping in the darkest, longest night, but now all she sees is daylight. This love glows in the dark and glows so bright that it overcomes it. And then she so explicitly calls back to “Red” and how she used to think love would be burning red, but she’s realized instead that it’s golden. Red love is so fiery and passionate in all its emotions, and the idea of something being fiery means that it could, occasionally, be golden, when it’s glowing bright. But that’s an intense golden... this golden is soft. Ethereal is the best word I have for it. She sings of golden daylight, and this song is that—daylight. It’s true gold; it isn’t burning red because it’s softer. It’s warmth, not heat. It’s contentment, it’s quiet, it’s safety, it’s trust, it’s reconciliation. It’s illuminating, but not blinding. I just... this song is bursting with warmth and softness and light and I can’t get over it or put it into better words.

tl;dr I love Taylor Swift with my whole heart and Lover is simply incredible and, quite frankly, THAT bitch. 💘💕✨

[ilovemesomekillianjones]

(Un)Comfortable - Part 2

Killian gets his revenge! Just the fun loving husband and wife kind. Here’s a little continuation of my story based on a hilarious text image, not sure where actual credit goes for the photo below, (it was on google images and had been reposted here) but thanks to the hilarious genius behind it.

I read it and thought of Emma and Killian right away. This is written in the canon universe, and even though it’d never happen, this is just me having fun and attempting to be humorous. I hope you enjoy. Thanks @hollyethecurious for being an awesome beta. Dedicated to @laschatzi and @cocohook38 who said this needed a part two. Here it is ladies!           Part 1               ao3               ffnet               Rated M               1.4K  

Inserted a cut line right here  ↓ 

As they sat in relatively awkward silence, everyone miraculously needing to peruse their phones at the same time, Killian debated the merits of immediate versus delayed, when she least expects it payback. He was a patient man, he’d waited literal decades for revenge before, but for some reason he found himself needing that immediate satisfaction of besting his wife.

He would never truly classify what he was about to do as revenge, that word entailed malice and forethought, this was merely a game between husband and wife. He and Emma had an ongoing competition, little ways in which they bested the other, it had just never reached this height. This was a whole new level.

He chanced a glance at David who was still stone faced, then Snow who was trying her best to look as though it was any old bright and sunny day. When he looked to Emma, still wearing a self satisfied smirk on her face, she darted her eyes to his and winked. That’s my move, he simmered. Just as quickly, she went back to scrolling through her phone.

Brooding as he waited for breakfast to arrive he focused his attention back on his phone, careful not to open the text feed between him and his wife; he’d finally settled down, he didn’t need another peep show to get him riled up. Killian opened his photos, it was a favorite pastime of his to look at his frozen moments. He was fascinated by being able to capture a picture forever with the press of his thumb. There, first in the queue was Emma’s bloody toe, in the most literal of terms. She’d been gardening the day before and tripped over one of the bricks she was using to line the rose garden. He’d been at work and she’d sent him the picture with the caption, “There goes my fucking pedicure.” Indeed she had kicked her big toe so hard, her nail had fallen victim, bloodied and swollen. The picture had made him cringe, but the caption had him chuckling, and he’d saved it to his camera roll as just another Emma memory.

Suddenly, as he stared at the picture an idea came to Killian. A wonderfully awful idea, just like that little, grumpy, green fellow in that Christmas cartoon they’d watched with Henry over the holidays. Ah yes, The Grinch, he remembered, and Killian felt as though the hair atop his head was unfurling just as the Grinch’s had when he’d gotten his wonderfully awful idea, though he suppressed the Grinchy smile that wanted to break across his face.

“Say Dave, did I tell you what Emma did?”

All heads turned toward Killian as he smiled innocently at his father-in-law.

“Do I want to know what Emma did?” David grumbled.

“Well, I’m afraid she sent me this picture and I am not sure if she should be going on patrol this afternoon, or if she should stay home so I can take care of her.” He turned to Emma and quirked his eyebrow. Biting his lip gently just out of the view of her parents, he watched her visibly squirm in her seat.

“I’m sure I am just fine to work, babe,” Emma answered.

“I don’t know, I think maybe we should have your father be the judge of that.”

“What happened?” Snow asked worriedly.

“Nothing happened, Mom. Killian’s just being dramatic.”

“Dramatic am I? I’d say this photo would paint quite a different idea.” Killian held the phone slightly aloft, as if to pass it to his father-in-law. Looking at his wife in challenge, he waited for her next move.

“Killian,” Emma warned. “Don’t do something we’ll both regret.”

“Regret?” David asked in confusion. “Just give me the damn phone.” He reached across the table and snatched the phone from Killian’s hand before Emma could.

“No!” Emma shouted, lunging across the table but missing the phone as David cradled it to his chest.

“Just what the hell has gotten into you two this morning!” David growled.

“Give me the phone, Dad!”

“No. If you’re hurt, Killian is just trying to keep you from hurting yourself more.”

“I see I’m back to Killian, mate. Glad to have you back!”

David turned to glare at Killian as if to say, shut up, Hook, but returned his attention to his daughter.

“But, I’m not hurt,” Emma whined.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Snow said, snatching the phone from her husband. At first her nose wrinkled and her lips turned down in disgust.

Emma shrunk back into her seat, folded her arms against the table and buried her head in them, like a five year old having a fit.

“Emma, that’s horrible,” Snow said. “You might want to see a doctor.”

Emma let out a mortified groan. Her mom was actually lecturing her about naked selfies as if she had some sort of affliction. What insane realm had she entered?

David drew in a sharp breath, “Emma! That’s disgusting!”

Killian sat back and enjoyed his handy work. This could not have played out better than if he was pulling puppet strings.

Emma’s head shot up and she stared bug eyed at her mother. “Mom! You showed it to dad? I don’t even… what the… why would you show dad a naked selfie of me? And you!” She shoved a finger into Killian’s chest, “You are gonna pay, pirate.”

David shoved the phone toward Killian as if a naked photo of his daughter might suddenly leap onto the screen.

“I’ve done nothing, love!” he proclaimed.

“A naked selfie?” Snow asked, confusion evident in her voice.

“Oh, whatever, a naked picture,” she emphasized in case they were having a realm colloquialism issue. “Don’t act like you’ve never sent dad a sexy picture.” Emma shuddered at the uncomfortable thought, they may have been close enough friends to share such information at one point, but Snow was definitely more her mom than her friend in this situation.

David bowed his head into his hands.

“See!” Emma gloated, “that reaction right there says you’ve definitely sent him a boob shot or two.”

Snow just sat there with the good sense to keep her mouth shut as she blushed to the same color of the apple that had almost stopped her from being here to endure this moment.

“Don’t judge me for sending nudes to my husband, I’m an adult, the same as you and dad,” Emma hissed across the table for privacy’s sake, sounding every bit the caught teen she was acting like.

“Fix this, Hook!” David growled through his hands.

Killian put his arm around his wife’s shoulder, which she started to slap away.

“Don’t try and sweet talk me, this is your fault. If you hadn’t been so damn cocky about why we were late this morning I wouldn’t have been forced to take you down a peg.”

“Emma, love,” Killian started innocently.

Emma narrowed her eyes at his expression of contrite apology. It was false, of that she was sure.

“I merely hoped to keep you from injuring yourself worse.” He paused to show Emma the photo of her bloodied toe. “You are the one who told your parents you went into the restroom of this fine establishment and sent sultry nudes to your husband whilst he sat ready to break his fast with his lovely in laws.”

Emma’s jaw dropped almost to the table as she stared at Killian, and then her parents. “I can explain. I mean you already know why we were late, and he was just being so smug and piratey-”

“Piratey?” Killian laughed.

Emma shot him a look and continued, “He was being so smug and piratey about it that I wanted him to be a little humble, so I decided to-”

“We already know that part, too,” her father exasperated. “I think you two need to find a new game.”

“I don’t know Dave, I like this game, I mean, I did win after all,” Killian preened.

Snow laughed at Emma’s huffing and puffing, they really were a cute couple.

“You did not win.”

“Yes I did.”

“Did not!” Emma argued, glaring at him as Granny came over to drop off their breakfast.

“Enjoy folks.”

A chorus of thanks went around the table as Granny walked back to her counter.

“How do you figure I didn’t win, love?” Killian asked as they continued to have a standoff while sitting in a booth.

Smiling sweetly at him, Emma kissed him on the cheek, and then turned back to face her parents. “Killian had a boner when I came back to the table.” She picked up a sausage from her plate, bit it, then turned to her husband. “That’s how.”

“Granny!” David shouted, continuing before the old lady could even address him, “I need a to go box!”

End

Tagging some of you who read part one @kmomof4 @nikkiemms @winterbaby89 @gingerchangeling @captswanis4vr @idristardis @love-with-you-i-have-everything @xarandomdreamx @wyntereyez @ultraluckycatnd @mayquita @kday426 @badwolfreturns @jennjenn615 @demisexualemmaswan @officerrogers @roseyflush @killian-whump @killianjonesownsmyheart1 @deathbycaptainswan @spartanguard @effulgentcolors @resident-of-storybrooke @hookedonapirate @branlovestowrite @thesschesthair @xemmaloveskillianx @tiganasummertree @teamhook @thislassishooked @captainswancygnet @wordsmith-storyweaver @a-faekindagirl @princesseslikepirates

[queenofcats17]

Last Meeting

After @insane-control-room‘s announcement that their Joey would change after their newest installment of The Big Picture, I decided my Joey needed a last goodbye. So we kinda rped. 

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

"Hey...Jo?" Freckle pokes his head in. "Are you...going somewhere? My creator saw something about that. I mean, the exact words were changing but...Um..." He fidgets a bit. Johan's head lifts from his desk, working on his computer. He is silent a moment.

"I think I am going to die," he says calmly, quietly, after a moment.

"What...What the Hell is that supposed to mean?!" Freckle stalks over. "You can't just die!" He doesn't mean to sound so accusatory, so angry. But he's afraid. Johan stares at his hands. 

"I don't know," he sighs, tired. "I can't see anything past a few weeks from now, at best. Like there is nothing there. Dead zone."

"But your story isn't over!" Freckle's not sure who he's yelling at. "You can't just disappear!"

"What do you mean, my story isn't over?" Johan sinks in his wheelchair. "It should have ended long ago."

"The thing my creator saw said it wasn't over." Freckle begins to pace, gnawing at his lip. "So it can't be over. You...You can't die. It's your story and it can't be over." He doesn't want it to be over. As long as it's still going on, he has a friend. He needs a friend.

Johan's thin fingers snake into his hair, and he fists his hands in an attempt to quell his anguish. 

"There is nothing there," is his hoarse reply. "It ends."

"It can't end," Freckle mutters. "It can't!" He hits the wall with his fist, then winces and draws his hand to his chest. 

"It can't." He repeats weakly.

"Freckle, please," Johan weakly says, not referring to anything in particular. He reaches to him with a scarred hand. Freckle hunches his shoulders, looking very much like a guilty child. 

"I'm sorry." He sits down beside Johan, taking Johan's hand in his.

Johan leans his head on Freckle's shoulder. "I'm glad you're here."

Freckle hesitates for a moment, then leans his head against Johan's. "I'm...I'm glad to be here. You're my friend and I care about you."

"I love you man," the young and tired man says, choking up. "I'm happy that you can... call me a friend." Freckle's expression softens. 

"I love you too." He whispers. Johan wraps him into an awkwardly angled hug, but tight and warm no less. Freckle lets out a soft laugh, returning the hug as best he can. Johan smells like cinnamon and spices as he hugs him tightly, swaying slightly. 

"If I am, somehow, still alive," Johan swallows. "Please, do come visit me...."

"I will." He replies without hesitation. If Johan is still alive after whatever strange event his creator knows is coming, he will visit him. Maybe Johan won't remember him anymore, but he doesn't want to lose him. Johan's watch buzzes, and he ignores it, hugging Freckle tighter still. He sniffles, and hides his face on his shoulder, trembling. Freckle wants to tell him that it will be alright. But he doesn't know that. And he doesn't want to make any more false promises. 

"I'm here." He says, gently patting Johan's back. Johan shudders and quakes. 

"I don't want to die," he bemoans.

"No one ever does," Freckle says without thinking. His voice is dark and his eyes far away.

"I don't want to die feeling like this," Johan corrects himself. "Feeling wrong."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Freckle drags himself back to the present. If Jo is going to die, he wants him to be happy when it happens. 

"You are now," Johan whispers.

Freckle smiles again, soft and genuine. "I'm glad."

Johan doesn't want to let go, but his hips (why is he so feminine?) are starting to ache. He still doesn't let go, but shifts a bit in pain.

"Are you okay?" Freckle feels his heart leap in panic. Why is he so afraid? Jo isn't going to die. Not yet at least.

"I'm fine," he lies as another electric pain shoots up his back, and he pulls away a little.

"Bullshit." Freckle gives him a look. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?" 

"Back," Johan mutters. "From my whole... disability."

Freckle nods, standing up and gathering Johan in his arms as best he can. "You got a couch nearby?"

Johan nods and looks to it, over by the left wall.

"Alright." Freckle grunts a bit, making his way over. He is not a big man, neither in height nor weight, so it's a bit difficult for him to carry a tall being like Jo.  Johan blushes from being carried, and leans onto Freckle's chest, closing his eyes. It feels nice.

"There we go." Freckle lowers himself and Johan onto the couch so that they're both laying down. Gods, he can't remember the last time he actually spooned someone. Johan gives a small crying giggle, like a child that got a boo-boo might after being cheered up. He snuggles against him best he can with his weakened limbs. 

"Hey," he breathes, finding a patch of Freckle behind him and holding it gently. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Freckle gives him a big goofy grin. Johan can't see it... but he can tell it's there, and appreciates it. Satisfied, Freckle rests his head gently on Jo's chest. Johan's arms tighten a bit around him. It feels nice to be close.

Freckle stroked Johan's hair, humming to himself. He wanted this to last forever. He wanted to just stay in this moment. He felt his old compulsions creeping up again. The old desire to force the world to conform to his will. But he couldn't. He couldn't do that again

Johan let out a soft chuckle, not a happy one. "You're thinking too hard."

"Yeah, I guess I am." Freckle laughed weakly.

"Take it easy," Johan mumbles. "It's all gonna be alright."

"I'll take your word for it." Freckle nodded, trying to ignore the heavy feeling in his stomach. Everything was going to be alright. Their creators had a plan. It was going to be fine.

“That means a lot,” Johan whispered trying to hold on.

Freckle sighed, staring up at the ceiling. "Do you think it'll go better this time around?" He asked. "Your story, I mean."

Johan wrinkles his nose a bit. "No clue."

"Yeah, I guess you wouldn't know." Freckle chuckles. "Here's hoping, though. You deserve to be happy."

"Mm." Johan doesn't agree in the slightest, but he's far too exhausted to argue.

"You deserve to be happy." Freckle insists, pressing his face into Johan's hair. "You're a good person."

He can feel Norman's blood on his chest, constricting, pressuring, just as the man's body was in his death. He can hear Johnny's wails, Sammy's pleas, everyone's suffering. 

 "No."

"Well...A better person than me." Freckle corrects himself, realizing his mistake. "You didn't murder your whole studio just because you were afraid to admit you failed." He'd been deliberately cruel. Experimenting, torturing. Their lives had been of no consequence as long as he could get what he wanted. Look at what that had gotten him.

Johan tucks his legs up, trying to make himself as small as possible. He'd never even come to as close as good as Freckle is.

"Hey. I can feel you being self-deprecating." Freckle pokes Johan's cheek. "Stop that now." He tries a smile. It's amazing how small a seven and a half foot man can make himself. He's now nearly a hundred percent spherical, and he doesn't reply.

Freckle sighs. "I guess I ruined the moment." No wonder no one ever stuck around him. Whenever he opened his mouth he just stuck his foot in it.

"It's not you," Johan mutters. "I'm just. Bad. I don't deserve you around at all."

Freckle blinks, staring down at him. "I...You know what I've done right? The murder and the ink and the trapping? I'm not a good person. At least you felt bad about what you did. I didn't feel bad until Esther forced me to acknowledge what I did."

"You at least had a reason," Johan whispers, somehow curling even more. He's tired and cold. He still doesn't want Freckle to go. Selfish.

"It was a stupid reason," Freckle mutters, trying to distract himself from the fact that he will have to leave at some point. He doesn't want to go. What if the new Johan hates him? What if he doesn't want anything to do with him? What if he's better?

"Still a reason."

Despite himself, Freckle lets out a quiet laugh. "Fine. It was still a reason."

Johan reaches out a hand to find Freckle. He's so balled up he can't tell left from right.

"You're like a little kitten." Freckle leans down so Johan can find his face. Johan squeaks embarrassedly, exactly as a kitten might, and the ends of his fingers curl in Freckle's hair. He is very glad his face is hidden, as he doesn't know how burning dark it is now.

Freckle's smile widens. "You're so cute."

"Noooooo...."

“Yeeeees. You’re adorable.”

Johan's pout is audible in his voice. "Prove it."

"First of all, you're adorable when you pout." Freckle is trying very hard not to laugh. "Second, you're curled up like a little kitten right now. Third, your hair does this really cute curly thing sometimes where it reflects your emotions." 

Sounds indescribable escape Johan, and ironically, in that moment, his hair spikes up in surprise, and curls back in fluster.

"See? It's doing the thing!" Freckle reaches out and pats his hair. "It's like you're a cat or something."

"Most people say snake," Johan manages to squeak, his hair curling around Freckle’s fingers slowly and steadily.

"Oh yeah. There's some universe where you're a naga or something." Freckle's voice goes quiet as he watches the hair curl around his fingers. Like snakes. Like a Medusa.

"I know that," Johan smiles a little, though it's nearly impossible to see with the way he's curled. "Have you met that me?"

"No, but I know Esther has." Freckle stifles a snort. "She tried to take him home."

"Oh my goodness," Johan giggles a little. "Poor snake's never even seen a house and she planned on taking him home."

"She likes to think she's the sensible one, but she's the one who always brought home stray animals." Freckle snickers. "She's always been the mothering type."

"Mhm." Johan seems to have uncurled a bit.

“She probably embarrasses those kids of hers all the time.” Freckle laughs. His smile quickly fades though.

"Heh, yeah..." Johan smiles a bit, and unfurls some more. "Kids are like that."

“Especially Rachel.” Freckle’s gaze softens. “She’s just like I was at that age. So desperate to be grown up and mature.”

"Weren't we all?" Johan chuckles a little. "Until we grow up and want to be kids again."

Freckle nods, his smile fading. "Makes me wish I could go back and do it over." He pauses, then snorts. "God, I sound old."

"Me too," Johan says almost inaudibly after a minute.

Freckle lapses into silence, stroking Johan’s hair absentmindedly. “I hope you get to do it over.”

Nothing else is said, even when Freckle has to depart, his heart heavy. He hopes things will be better for Johan. He hopes the other man will be happier this time. He hopes he’ll still remember him.

[veliseraptor]

Til the Pain Starts, 1.8k, Avengers-era, taking a stab at a minor canon-divergence Loki-whump/angst ficlet, every so often I manage to write something short, idea courtesy of @portraitoftheoddity​ (enabler in chief)

The Black Widow - Barton’s ‘Nat’ - came to him like a panther feigning a limp. She was good - he might have fallen for it, tempted by that seeming weakness, had he not been so thoroughly warned by his loyal hawkling. She plays to their expectations, he’d explained, and for all Loki’s influence the admiration in his voice remained plain as day. Acts weak, and when they fall for it she goes in for the kill.

All he needed to do was keep quiet, watch her with casual indifference as she poked and prodded for an opening. He’d thought he might need to drive more wedges between the members of Fury’s cobbled together team, but they were already on the point of falling apart. The scepter would only make that worse, and Fury’s lies would add further discord.

All he needed to do was wait. And if this was the worst they could throw at him…

The Widow sighed. “If you won’t make me an offer,” she said, her voice cold steel, “your next visitors won’t be so nice. You know that, right?”

“And what are you offering me?” Loki asked, raising his eyebrows. “My freedom?”

She shrugged. “Security measures fail.”

Loki glanced up at the camera in one corner and smiled. “No, Agent Romanov,” he said. “I think I will stay right where I am.” He leaned back against the wall behind him. Her expression cooled.

“Your loss,” she said, turning on her heel. Loki watched her go, half-smiling.

He knew what was coming next. And he wasn’t afraid.

**

“So what now,” Dr. Banner asked, when Agent Romanov returned from her fruitless questioning of their captive. She looked almost perfectly composed, but Steve thought she was frustrated. He glanced back at the screen where he could see Loki, legs stretched out, the picture of casual relaxation. “Just wait until the scan finishes running on the Tesseract’s location?”

“We might not have that kind of time,” Director Fury said. “He’s definitely not concerned about being here, and that worries me. It should worry the rest of you, too. Could mean he’s waiting for something, and I don’t want to be surprised by whatever it is.”

Thor was frowning at the screen that showed his brother - adopted brother? Steve was a little unclear on what the situation was between the two of them. “Do you have any insights?” Steve asked him. “What he might be thinking?”

Thor shook his head. “No,” he said after a beat. “I do not. Loki is not...the same brother that I knew.”

Steve tried to imagine what it would be like, standing on the opposite side of the battlefield as your own sibling, but that thought didn’t lead anywhere.

“So, what,” Stark said to Director Fury. “What are you going to do, get out the pliers and cattle prods?” Steve could hear traces of Howard in his voice, and that irritated him more than it should have. Maybe because he wasn’t Howard, was just a callow, showboating--

He jerked out of his own thoughts, properly registering what Tony was saying, as he should have immediately. “No,” he said flatly. Director Fury was conspicuously silent. “We don’t do things that way.”

“Look up Abu Ghraib sometime, Cap’n,” Stark said. “You’d be surprised what the good ol’ US of A will do.”

Steve ignored that, keeping his eyes fixed on Fury. “Sir,” he said flatly, “that’s not acceptable. I won’t be party to--”

“It’s not up to you, Captain,” Fury interrupted.

“I’m - personally, I’m with him,” Dr. Banner said. “I’m not a big fan of torture, generally speaking. That is what we’re talking about, right?”

“No one’s a fan,” Fury said. “Nothing about this situation is anything I’m a fan of.”

Steve looked at Thor, surprised by his silence, but he didn’t seem to be paying attention. “What about you?” Steve asked. “Are you - fine with the idea of us torturing Loki for information?”

“No,” Thor said, and turned slowly, something dangerous in his expression that made the hair on the back of Steve’s neck stand up. “I am not. I thought we had discussed this already.”

“We’re running out of options,” Fury said, with audible frustration.

“You won’t lay a hand on my brother,” Thor said, his voice hard.

“Last time your brother showed up here he destroyed a town,” Fury said. “This time it looks like he’s setting up for something a whole lot worse.”

Steve looked at Agent Romanov, who had her arms crossed, her expression closed. Her chin lifted, meeting his eyes directly. “Don’t look at me like that, Steve,” she said. “I know a thing or two about ugly necessities. So do you. You were in a war, right?”

“I told you,” Thor said. “There is no pain that would persuade Loki to give up his vengeance.”

“Oh, but if there were that’d be fine?” Stark said. Thor turned that glare on him.

“Do not assume--”

“Hey,” Dr. Banner said abruptly. “Is that feed on a loop?”

Steve turned to stare at the monitor where he was pointing - the one showing Loki sitting casually watching the camera, the picture of easy insouciance. Stark pushed past Steve and he shoved down the urge to push back; glancing away he caught the flick of Agent Romanov’s eyes toward Fury and the brief crease in her brow.

“You’re right,” Stark said. “It is on a loop. So what are you not showing us?” Fury said nothing, and Thor took a menacing step toward him.

“Whatever you’re doing--”

“I’m doing,” Fury said, voice hard. “Not you. I didn’t want this, but we’re talking the fate of Earth on the line. I made a call.”

Steve’s stomach clenched. His hands balled into fists. “Call it off,” he said. “Right now, call it--”

“There,” Stark said. “Let’s see what you’ve been doing to tall, dark, and horny, yeah?”

The screen changed. The sound quality was bad, but it was enough to make Steve flinch.

“Jesus Christ,” Stark said. He sounded sick. “You expect him to tell you anything when he’s howling like that?”

“That isn’t screaming,” Thor said, and when Steve looked at him he looked pale. “That is laughter.”

**

The door had barely closed behind Romanov before his promised next visitors arrived. He smiled at them. “Hello,” he said. “A pleasure, I’m sure. How are we going to do this?”

It wasn’t anticipation. It was more a...quiet satisfaction at being proven right. One of them opened the floor of the cage; an ineffective threat. They wouldn’t kill him. Hurt, yes. Kill, no. They needed the knowledge he possessed. How they would try to wring that out of him was an open question.

But he doubted they could come close to matching the sophistication of what he’d already lived through. What he’d been trained to endure. He could bleed and bruise, break and burn, and it wouldn’t matter.

“Where is the Tesseract,” one of them asked.

“What,” Loki said, still smiling. “No small talk? Not even a name?”

The floor, it turned out, could channel an electric current. His muscles went rigid and he shook for a few seconds, but it was nothing. Nothing at all, not next to Thanos’s children searing brands into his flesh.

“Where did you send Agent Barton?”

“How do you know he’s still alive?” Loki said. They let the charge go for longer this time, and Loki couldn’t help it: he laughed. “Is this all you can do?” He asked, standing and taking a step toward him. “And here I thought perhaps--”

His teeth slammed together and his knees gave, lightning spidering over his skin, current jolting every one of his nerves. It took him a few moments to catch his breath.

“Where is the attack going to begin?”

A chuckle bubbled up Loki’s throat and he snorted. “Do you really think that I’m going to tell you? You don’t have a chance. You might as well accept that you’ve lost.”

Longer. Loki felt his heart seize, briefly. They couldn’t even touch him, Loki thought. Didn’t dare step past the clear walls of his cage. They couldn’t carve open his chest and leave him gasping with lungs exposed to open air. Couldn’t pump venom into his blood to burn from the inside out.

Didn’t they know that pain was an old and familiar friend by now? His body was a shell. A tool. Barely even his, when it came down to it, the skin he wore as false as everything else--

Loki panted for breath. His chest ached and his nerves prickled, feeling bleeding back into his fingers. It’s a good thing you heal quickly, he thought, but it wasn’t really in his own voice.

“That tickles,” he said, a bit of a rasp in his voice that faded as he spoke.

“Where is the Tesseract?”

“I have no idea,” Loki said with a grin. “But by all means, keep asking.” He rolled his shoulders back, as though his muscles didn’t ache, starting to push himself up. His slightly irregular heartbeat steadied, and looking down he could see the burns healing, his body already repairing itself.

He flexed his hands open and closed, watching burnt flesh flake away from his palms.

“Is that all?” He asked again, and started laughing. He didn’t stop as his body seized, electricity tearing through his muscles. He could hear himself, the sound of it, high and wild and insane but it was hilarious, wasn’t it, that they thought they could touch him with this, that they thought anything they did could hurt him enough to break him.

Thanos got there first, he wanted to tell them.You’re too late.

That just made him laugh harder, harder, until he couldn’t breathe, until there was nothing but the pain and the questions and people shouting.

Thor shouting. “Loki! Loki!”

Loki opened his eyes, which had closed at some point. “Ah,” he said. “Have they sent you now, then?”

Thor’s expression flickered with distress. He pressed a hand to the barrier between them, clear as glass and yet impassable. What a perfect metaphor. He was dizzy, giddy, and he suspected there was something wrong inside him. Muddled up. Ah well. It would mend.

Someone else was still shouting. “I didn’t know,” Thor said, like he needed Loki to believe it. “I didn’t know that they were…”

Oh, Thor. Stupid, stupid, Thor, who didn’t understand a damned thing. He started laughing again, though it hurt his chest.

“Loki,” Thor said, sounding so worried, the liar.

Which was when one of the engines exploded. Barton had arrived. Time to get moving.

It didn’t matter if it hurt. Something always did.