#while every panel where he's by himself he's sweating and freaked the fuck out

[talentforlying]

always thinking about this fuckin guy. absolutely terrifying piece of work.

[border-spam]

Twins prompt 6: DeLeon

(Warning for this one, and huge thanks to @lazulizard​ for her amazing art on this one- full link at bottom of fic )

“Piece of shit, piece of shit, AHH-fuck!!”

Troy rips his hand out of under the pinching joint of his prosthetic where he’s been failing to try and disengage it for the last few minutes, then screams in frustration as he smashes the brutal weight of the arm across his workdesk in a wide sweep.

The satisfaction of destroying half of the projects he’s been working on this month in a couple of seconds doesn’t put a dent in how fucking exhausted he is.

He’s so tired, he’s just so tired, shoulders hunched above his bowed head as he leans his weight on the arm, feeling the now cracked surface of the table shift under him slightly with each panting breath.

Today had been painfully -rough-, and Tyreen hadn’t given him an inch, focusing her displeasure at the COV’s acquisition department’s failed hostile merger with that unexpectedly well armed fuel outpost on him, after husking half of the division of course.

He’d taken the brunt of her foul mood as usual, and the workload in fixing this fuckup he wasn’t even responsible for tomorrow was giving him a headache just trying to think of where he would need to get started, and he’s just so.. fucking.. tired.

He rubs harshly at his face as he turns and begins to stumble towards the mess of heaped blankets and pillows that was his bed, the arm would wait, he’d just leave it and try to sleep for now. If he didn’t try and get a couple of hours in he wouldn’t be able to function tomorrow enough to make a dent in this clusterfuck. He’s so tired.. it won’t matter. He’ll just pass out even with the dead weight of it digging into his shoulder, he knows from experience.

Soon as his shin hits the edge of the mattress he feels his eyes flutter closed, barely managing to lift his torso onto the bed and crawl into the center before his body gives out and he flops down onto his chest. His stupidly long prosthetic arm is bent at an awkward angle, the jagged elbow pointing towards the ceiling and wrist pinned uncomfortably under his hip, but he doesn’t have the energy to move the goddamn thing right now, and his breathing evens out within seconds of his face hitting the pillow.

Warm, encompassing, heavy sleep. The kind of sleep that feels like sinking underwater, like the soft pressure of your mother’s arms around your small body. The kind of sleep that makes it hard to wake up, and Troy struggles to push his mind out of the fog as he finds himself somewhere dark, and quiet, and wrong.

Nothing, all around him. Nothing, no sound, no light, and yet he can see his hands perfectly. No ground or walls or air, nothing, and the hairs on the back of his neck raise as some horrible realisation begins to dawn. Some memory he can’t grasp, slipping through his fingers like oil. Something bad happens when he’s here, but he can’t remember what.

He can’t.. move. He can move his legs but each step does nothing, there’s nothing to walk on, and his heart is starting to pick up pace, a lump in his throat getting hard to swallow. He doesn’t want to be here but he can’t remember why.

There’s.. there’s something behind him, he can feel it, but he can’t turn no matter how hard he whips around, he can’t see behind him. What is it.. what is it he can sense it he..

“Troy….”

His pulse spikes. He can feel his spine turn rigid, lungs filling to the point of pain as the fear forces a deep shuddering breath into them. He knows that voice. He knows that voice and now he remembers why he fucking hates this place. Why he doesn’t want to be here, not again. Not again, not again, not again, not him. Not that gaunt shape he catches in the corner of his eye in every fucking reflection he passes, not that lingering, mocking, pitying laugh he hears in the back of his brain every time the silence settles in after the adoration of his worshippers fades for the night. Not again, not this, not here, not him, not again.

“.. Just look at you Troy. So little of you left now. What have you done t-to me.”

Fucking… DeLeon..

He smells him before he can see him. Every whistling, panicked breath through his nose is filled with the scent of memories that turn his stomach.

Warm morning sunlight evaporating dew from fern leaves, the engine oil that always covered Dad’s pants, that fragrant Nekrotafeyan wood they’d burn each night at the campfire, Mom’s skin, dried blood under his fingernails, Ty’s breath when she would curl against his side to sleep in their tiny bed, fever sweat and vomit, and he can’t stop breathing it in, it’s all around him and he can’t stop remembering.

“You let her down again today, didn’t you. Guess that’s nothing to be surprised by anymore, is it b-big man? Ahaha.. It’s normal now, huh?”

His jaw is clamped so tight he can feel the implanted roots of his metal canines burning in his skull cavity with the pressure. DeLeon steps closer behind him.

“Wonder how that happened.. wonder how you went from b-being her best friend, her other half, her right hand… to well, whatever the hell you are now. A monster, m-maybe?”

His prosthetic violently shakes at his side with each shuddering breath and he feels a shooting, burning pain down his left arm as it does. DeLeon is in the edge of his vision now, the red glow of the markings around his eye the only colour in this fucking place.

“… A.. freak..?” DeLeon whispers in his right ear in that soft, stammering voice, mocking in his apologetic tone. Troy snaps.

He lashes out on reflex without turning. Arm striking raptor quick to his right, fingers instantly closing around that delicate neck, and he lifts.

He weighs -nothing-, Troy realises as DeLeon’s boots clear the ground and he chokes out a gasp against the machine’s grip. A jolt of pain burns through Troy’s abdomen and he tries to make sense of what’s happening, what he’s remembering.

His heart feels like it’s going to burst out of his chest and cold sweat drips down his back while DeLeon doesn’t even try to struggle, just watches him with those pathetic sad eyes and rests his hand gently on the steel of the monstrous arm’s plating, his red Siren markings a harsh contrast against the black metal. Troy’s eyes shift rapidly, trying to focus on anything but the patronising smile playing across the other’s lips.

Had he.. always been this light? Was it just that he didn’t have the arm yet.. or was this really how little he had weighed before.. before he started trying to change, before he became the God King. Was this how little muscle he’d carried when they landed on Pandora, when the bandits would laugh to his face about how broken he looked.

“SHUT UP” Troy barks, screwing his eyes shut and shaking his head violently to try and clear the intrusive memories tearing through his brain.

“Shut.. up. I’m not a freak. You were the freak, remember? Remember what Dad said? You were the joke, I’m Troy Calypso. I’m a God. What were you but a fucking FAILURE?”

He tightens his fist again and feels a pop, something in the frail man’s throat has just shifted but he doesn’t react, he doesn’t try to scratch at the fingers crushing his windpipe, just smiles down at him, calm and unphased.

“You can’t hurt me.. you know that, r-right?” DeLeon whispers through the vice grip on his throat, hand still relaxed against the arm’s panelling, expression still calm and eyes gentle as he stares down at the panting trembling mess holding him aloft.

“But I can hurt you. Over and over, and over.. every time you close your eyes.”

“B-because deep down you know what I was. I was happy.”

“…I was loved.”

A moment of silence passes, then the rage takes over. Troy roars, and DeLeon laughs.

He laughs as Troy releases his throat and lets him drop, he laughs as that viper quick prosthetic catches his forearm and yanks him to his feet before he fully fell to the ground, he laughs as Troys flesh fist smashes into his face and knocks him onto his back, lip splitting and cheekbone shattering under the impact.

He laughs as the the vicious grip on his arm pulls him forward, the only thing holding him upright as Troy spits into his eyes and slams a boot into DeLeon’s chest, shoulder beginning to strain under the power of the mechanical limb pulling it forward while his torso is pinned back.

He laughs at the God beating him to death and Troy has never hated anything as much as he hates this frail excuse for a man in his grasp. He hates that this man is underweight, he hates that he is weak, that he is flesh and smooth skin and gentle soulful eyes, that he is that scruffy fucking jacket his father gave him, that he is delicate bruised cheekbones and struggling lungs. He hates that this man is regret and spite and the lingering reminder of what it was like to be cared for out of choice and not fear.

All Troy can see is red, the red of DeLeon’s pointless, broken Siren Markings, the red that his eyes now glow, the red that spits over his lips as he laughs and laughs.

“STOP. FUCKING. LAUGHING” he hisses between clenched teeth, feeling his grip on the arm tighten harder, harder than he should, hard enough to feel muscle shift slightly from bone, but he can’t let go. Not while he’s being mocked like this, by him.

DeLeon doesn’t stop that gentle laugh, pity and condescension dripping from it, soft eyes still locked with Troy’s, and he doesn’t even flinch as Troy’s hate takes control, as the pressure of the metal fist’s grip increases and pushes the thumb through his forearm’s skin and into the meat underneath. As Troy presses his boot harder into his sternum and starts to pull.

“STOP - LAUGHING - AT - ME”

Troy screams, yanking his arm back further with each pause as he leans down hard on the creaking ribs under his boot, another burst of pain across his left shoulder ignored as his hearing hyperfixates on the wet pops that preface the crack of the ruined elbow joint as it gives out under the strain, the fleshy tear as it separates from DeLeon’s upper arm, only releasing his grip when he feels the resistance against his foot lessen as the arm in his fist detaches fully.

He stumbles back a step, breathing heavily as he takes in the wreck of the man in front of him and swallows a wave of bile as he feels blood spatters trickle down his cheek.

DeLeon sits barely upright as his narrow chest heaves for air, blood smeared across his face and torn torso where the brutal prosthetics’s jagged edges had caught his skin.

The remains of his mangled arm lay pathetically in front of him, lifeblood pumping from torn arteries and pooling underneath him, and still.. he smiles. Still, he looks at Troy like Troy is nothing, like Troy is a stupid pathetic child throwing a tantrum, like he isn’t afraid, like he pities the shivering, sweating God he’s defeated while being torn apart.

He’d won. He always won, every time. He’d won before Troy even realised he was there, he’d won with nothing but razor barbed words, and he’d win again, and again, and again.

“All d-done then?” he wheezes, blood red eyes locked onto Troy’s icy blue.

“H-hah ha….. who’s the freak now?”

Troy can’t breath.

He can’t physically breath his chest is.. wrong.. it’s burning like it’s being stabbed and he -

- Wakes up screaming.

He kicks in complete panic at the blankets that have wrapped around his legs, gasps in shock and claws at the fingers of his mechanical right hand that are currently digging into the skin of his pectoral.

He scrambles to sit up against the backboard and forces himself to breath as slowly and deeply as he can, shaking uncontrollably as he tries to calm himself enough to regain control of his right arm and pry the sharp digits out of his chest.

There is blood everywhere, his torso, his shoulder, long open scratches across his stomach and ribs, tears down the Siren markings in his arm, and he winces between pants as he slowly manages to loosen the death grip his fingers have on his pec and ease them out of the punctures left underneath.

He did this to himself. It’s not the first time.. he should have removed the goddamn prosthetic, he should have not been such a lazy, good for nothing piece of shit and just..

He slowly raises his injured arm and drapes it across his eyes as he tenderly sinks onto his back again, tears starting to burn the open scratches along it.

“You always.. fucking win.”

Link to @lazulizard​‘s fuckin astounding art for this fic

[peterquillss]

The Misadventures of Star-Lord & the Earth Girl #1

Summary: When Malia Reyes wakes in the dead of night, she finds an alien ship crashed atop her apartment building! And the "alien,' abroad is no other then Star-Lord, retired Guardian fallen back on his more criminal lifestyle. Now with fate having thrown a man from the stars and a girl from earth together, they'll have to survive whatever the black void of space and the marvel universe has to throw at them.

Warnings: None

Pairings: Peter Quill x Original Character

Continuity: Movies/Comics

1 HOUR BEFORE

Peter gripped the controls of the ship with every bit of strength he had, trying to keep his free fall under some semblance of control. The night sky outside the windscreen jerked about with each violent motion the ship made. Peter struggled to spot something to lock his focus on outside. He wasn't even sure where he was exactly. Earth, yeah, but where on the big blue ball he couldn't say. He'd hoped to get in quiet like and not draw any attention - which was against hi nature, but when ship systems start spazzing out there's not much you can do.

Peter's heart sank as the lights of a city came into view. Whelp, there'd be no sneaky entrances tonight. He desperately scanned the cityscape for, at the very least, a flat surface. Peter threw flicked on the stabilizing thrusters, the ensuing whiplash nearly snapping his neck as the ship slowed a bit. Empty bottles slammed into the front of the ship with a deafening rattle as the violent spinning calmed ever so slightly. Peter shook his head, trying to banish any dizziness so he could find a place to set the ship down.

His eyes caught sight of a roof that was possibly just long enough to set down on. Sure, a few satellite dishes and an AC unit would have to go, but Peter didn't really care at the moment. He pushed the stabilizing thrusters to their limit as they fought against the falling dead weight if the ship. The roof kept getting bigger as Peter's life ran through his head. Great, now he could die while feeling down. He struggled to keep the ship at a proper angle so as to actually hit the roof he was aiming at.

Peter yelled as the ship set down on the roof, scraping across the roof. He covered his face with his arms as satellites started to slam into the windscreen of the ship. The edge was fast approaching, the thrusters only doing so much to slow the ship down. Peter lurched forward as the ship slammed into the AC unit, rolling into its side. Peter yelled again, the ground mere inches from his face with only glass separating the two. The ship began to slow, finally lurching to a groaning stop, hanging a bit over the edge. Peter looked out the windscreen to find he was looking directly at the street below. He sighed, and then chuckled. "Like a glove."

══════════════════

Curiosity killed the cat — and probably her too.

Here she was following strange alien lights to her building roof in her pajamas, barbecue fork in hand with some determined look on her face. Looking back, now a step away from the door, she probably should’ve taken those shots of NyQuil before bed, never having woken up to see anything or better yet, wander into the kitchen in the first place. Damn her 3am thirst for water!

What was she even doing up here?

Malia froze as the thought crossed her frazzled mind, and lowered the fork in her hand, seeing the mysterious glowing lights flicker through the bottom panel of the door. She really was going to surprise attack whatever creature landed on the roof with a barbecue fork...losing probably her life in the process? She looked back over her shoulder and smacked the palm of her hand into her forehead.

But. . .

Placing her hand around the door knob, Malia turned the cold handle, and slowly pushed forward the metal frame a crack— the flashing lights dancing across her face. What if...she could prevent something bad from happening? That was her motivation. Scared or not, she could. Right? One hesitant step, followed by two then three, she thrust herself into the middle of the rooftop with her eyes closed. Oh! And her trusty barbecue fork ready for battle.

Then, nothing.

Malia opened one eye after what seemed like an hour. There was no one one in front of her. Just a ship. No weird looking aliens ready to probe her and god knows what else. Just a rather tired looking space ship parked on the roof of her building, flashing whimsical lights. She let her hands fall to her sides, feeling disappointed. There went her night. "Seriously...?" She sighed, looking up at the ship. Was someone even in there?

Questions that needed many answers ran through her mind as she walked beneath the contraption. "Hello?" Malia barely let out in a whisper. She touched the cool metal with one hand and poked it with the other, hearing the clank of the fork hitting against the ship. There had to be a button somewhere. And so she searched for it, until unexpectedly the carrier door lowered itself open. She held her breath and waited, popping her head from behind the platform. Again...

Nobody.

"I must've hit something," Malia said to herself, hesitantly putting one foot forward. Here she was, again, letting her curiosity get the better of her. It wasn't everyday some Alien ship landed on someone's roof. She could be the first to report on the matter, making all those X-Files Cultist extremely happy. She gripped onto the handle of her barbecue fork and proceeded to count.

1, 2, 3...

In a rush of quick adrenaline, she hustled into the back of the carrier, throwing herself behind whatever object was big enough to hide her. She suppressed a giggle or two. This definitely confirmed her friends statements; she was insane. Now, all she needed was proof. Catching her breath, Malia peeked around, every odd noise sending her back into hiding. Was this ship really empty?

══════════════════

Peter gave the ship's mainframe another kick for good measure before replacing the panel covering. That was the extent of his computer repairing ability, so if that didn't work he was out of luck. The system had been freaking out the whole time he'd been working on it. Turning lights on and off, opening and closing doors, it was a mess. Peter turned the system off for a few seconds before starting it back up. Everything seemed to be working smoothly at the moment, so his expert repair tactic must've worked. "Rocket, eat your heart out."

Peter carefully righted the ship using the thrusters and turned on the engine. The ship started to vibrate as they hummed to life, lifting the vessel so that it hovered above the roof. It was time to shove off before somebody from S.H.I.E.L.D, S.W.O.R.D or some other acronym came looking for him. Peter set the navigation computer to take him out into open space before sitting back in his seat. He watched the city start to grow smaller as the ship ascended into the night.

Peter's nose picked up an aroma he wouldn't call pleasant. It smelled like engine fluid and grease mixed with Drax sweat. He looked around the room, searching for the source of the smell before a thought occurred to him. Peter lifted his arm slightly, taking a cautious sniff. He winced as the source of the smell had been discovered. There were two options. Get a drink and feel disgusted with himself for getting so ripe, or shower. Peter sighed as he stood up and peeled off his shirt and started towards the shower.

Peter stopped at his tape deck before heading off. He scanned his small collection of cassettes. It wasn't much, but he liked to think the quality made up for that. He picked up one of his mix-tapes, happy to see that side B was ready to go. Peter popped the tape in, turning the volume all the way up before pressing play. 'Carry on Wayward Son' started to blast through the speakers, drowning out even the ship engine. He'd rigged up a stereo system that stretched throughout the entire ship and could blare his music as much as he wanted. That was one of the only benefits of traveling alone. Peter walked off towards the shower, singing along with the song as he went.

══════════════════

In the short period of wandering very cautiously, ducking around every corner, Malia came to a conclusion that the ship she was in, didn't belong to Aliens. Coming across small modern-like knick knacks, she started to become more curious instead of scared. The pilot was human. But, that still didn't explain the strange roof landing. She paused in her tracks, hearing a faint sound of music from somewhere above. There was someone onboard! Question was, did she want to meet them? Malia walked toward the ascending ladder and looked up. Maybe she should turn around and pretend none of this ever happened. It was all some weird dream she could spin for a story at a party one day. She sighed and stood in place — no longer hearing the faint sound of music, but footsteps instead.

“Fuck!” She panicked, scanning the room for a place to hide. Her heart was going to pop out of her chest. She could here the footsteps getting closer, meaning they were coming! Malia rushed up the stairs, thanking her herself for wearing slippers and dipped into a nearby room. The doors automatically slid open, she lunging  to the middle to stand still. She could’ve sworn she saw a silhouette turning the corner.

“Please don’t come in here…” She whispered, pressing the barbecue fork against her chest as the footsteps grew louder. She closed her eyes and repeated, ‘please,’ to herself, each step getting louder and louder. Upon noticing they continued down the hall, Malia let out a deep breath. “Thank God.” She slowly walked to the automatic door and peeked her head out, before scurrying in the opposite  direction.

She didn’t want to leave empty handed. Walking into every room she came across, Malia poked around, finding armor, gun parts and just odd items she wasn’t familiar with. “Definitely, not from this planet called Earth,” She said, putting down a strange sphere object with pointed edges. It was too big to put in her pockets. Also hazardous. The point on that thing could probably stab her. “The hell…” Her eyes caught a glimpse of a shining object. Whatever ship room she had stumbled in had to be for trinkets because there was dozens of things in there.

She raised her hand to grab for the sparkly item and suddenly yelped at the unexpected movement of the ship, sending her over. She hoped no one heard her, but panicked regardless as the roar of the ship itself told her nothing good was coming from it. The ship was moving and she was still in it! Tripping out of the room, Malia ran toward the direction the footsteps had previously gone and pulled herself back, behind the entry, at the sight of pilot.

”Oh god,” She kept her eyes on the driver. It was a man. Dressed in some red leather? She couldn’t quite tell. Catching her breath with the rumblings of the spaceship rattling at her bones, Malia prepared herself for whatever was to come for the dumb decision she was about to make. Slowly approaching the strange man whom flicked switches on the dashboard, she lifted her barbecue fork and poked him from behind — hard enough to hurt.

“Stop whatever you're doing, and let me off this thing!”

Here is where she died.

[walkerismychoice]

Stripped Bare - Chapter 8 (Bryce X MC AU)

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Bryce X MC (Charlie Hawkins)

Summary: The first full day of wedding activities continues while Charlie and Bryce’s “fake” relationship gets more and more convincing.

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 2441

Kyra fans out the skirt of her bridesmaid dress as she looks in the three panel mirror at the back of the boutique. “These dresses aren’t as bad as I expected. I mean the seafoam green color is a bit on the nose for a beach wedding, but I would have thought she’d choose something hideous for all of us just so she would look that much better.”

“But that would ruin her aesthetic.” Charlie puts a hand to her chest and gasps in mock horror. “Katelyn would never!” Both she and Kyra devolve into a fit of laughter. 

The group had split apart after tennis - and showers thank god -  to get fitted for their dresses and tuxes respectively, while the lucky non-wedding party significant others got a few minutes to relax and breathe. Katelyn had required the bridesmaids to try on dresses at the bridal shop back in Connecticut and then have them ordered and shipped to the the resort boutique because she’s that much of a bridezilla control freak.

Katelyn walks back from the front of the store, where she had been seated with the Sarahs drinking mimosas, and studies both of them scrupulously. “Looks like yours fits pretty well Kyra. My color options were limited with your red hair and pale skin, but I think this shade of green works quite well on you Charlie. However...” Katelyn motions for the seamstress to come over. “Do you think we need to let this out in the bust? She must have gained a few pounds since we tried this size on in the bridal boutique.” 

"Or maybe the sample size was not cut exactly the same as this one." Charlie knows she's not a size two like she used to be in high school when she would stress about everything she put in her mouth, but a size eight is nowhere near overweight. Still, she's not always comfortable with her newfound curves, and it stings to hear that comment from Katelyn.

"No, no, no." Mary the seamstress insists. 'You are a beautiful, voluptuous woman. You fill the dress out very nicely."

"I agree with Mary," Kyra adds. "You boobs look fucking amazing in that dress."

"Kyra!" Katelyn scolds while Charlie blushes. "Well I guess it is what it is. Just make sure you wear a good bra.

"Noted," Charlie murmurs under her breath and disappears back into the dressing room. She sits on the bench seat, taking a deep breath, and she doesn't know why, but her first instinct is to text Bryce about how awful Katelyn has been. She shakes off the thought, but then she hears her phone buzz in her purse and almost can't believe her eyes when she sees a text from Bryce:

Since it's been like ninety minutes since you've seen me shirtless, and you're stuck with Katelyn, I thought you might need a pick me up.

The text was accompanied by a full length mirror selfie of Bryce in only athletic shorts, clearly post workout.

Bold of you to assume that will make me feel better. She types back. It doesn't hurt, but she's not going to admit that. Looks like you can't  even go two hours without talking to me. You miss me that bad?" She hits send and immediately regrets it, but moments later she gets another text:

Maybe...

Charlie doesn't even know what to do with that, so she puts her phone away, but not before taking another look at the picture of Bryce, shirtless and glistening with sweat. Normally she would think a guy sending her a picture like that was gross, but not with him. Bryce literally looks good anytime, anywhere, no matter what he is or isn't wearing, and life just isn't fair.

Charlie puts her floral sundress back on, and checks herself out the mirror. Her cheeks are still burning bright, and she needs to get ahold of herself. She’s guessing Bryce was just trying to get a reaction out of her, and if so, mission accomplished. He doesn’t even have to be in her presence to get her all flustered. Charlie fans her face and inhales deeply before joining the other ladies. 

The rest of the day passes fairly quickly. The women eat a late lunch together and Kyra and Charlie mostly keep to themselves while Katelyn and the Sarahs are so engrossed in their own conversation, they hardly notice. Then the whole group meets up for a glass bottom boat tour which is fun, but a bit crowded and noisy with all of them on one boat. Charlie gets some great pictures of sealife and selects one for Instagram. Bryce then insists they get a take a selfie of themselves to post. Charlie wonders why when everyone they are trying to convince is right there with them, but there’s no way she’s going to question it in front of everyone, so she does as he requests. Bryce squeezes his arm around her and presses his cheek to hers before snapping the picture. Charlie checks out the post after it uploads. They both looks so happy, and it seems so...real. They always say it’s not fair to look at other people’s social media and compare yourself because they only show what they want you to see, and she’s living proof. She looks like she’s having a great time in paradise with her gorgeous boyfriend, but it's all a lie, isn’t it?

The boat drops them off at the resort, and they head straight to dinner and eat oceanside at Seagrape Terrace. The sun is starting to set and a gentle breeze wafts in from over the water. Each table is set for six, and the thankfully there’s no assigned seating tonight. Unfortunately, she still ends up at the same table as Katelyn and Landry, and although Kyra is also there to help keep her sane, Bob is as well by default since everyone else is paired off. With Charlie seated between Bryce and Kyra, Landry next to Bob so they can chat about their glory days in undergrad or whatever, the only spot left for Katelyn is next to Bryce.

Katelyn takes a sip of her wine. “So Bryce, you really showed nice form on the court today. What club do you belong to? They must have incredible tennis pros there”.

Charlie nervously pushes a stray piece of lettuce around on her salad plate, unsure of how Bryce will answer.

Bryce swallows the bite of food in his mouth. “I’m kind of between clubs right now. My family isn’t from the East Coast, and I’ve been so busy with medical school I haven’t had much time. You know how it is, Landry.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. I’ve hardly had a chance to visit my club the past few years.”

“So is that your excuse for your poor showing today?” Katelyn huffs.

“Muffin, I think it’s safe to say we could have both played better today. Maybe if you hadn’t been so distracted...”

Charlie quickly grabs the bread basket from the middle of the table. “Did everyone get some bread? There’s a few pieces left.”

Neither Katelyn or Landry answers, but at least they stop bickering.

“I’ll take another if no one else is going to have one.” Bryce reaches in and selects a piece. “You know I’ll never turn down your buns, Honey.” He smirks at Charlie.

“Very funny, Sweetie.” Charlie gives him a look out of the corner of her eye and he just chuckles.

The food comes and Charlie’s salmon is flaky and delicious. There’s just something about eating seafood at the ocean that makes it taste that much better. Charlie has two glasses of wine, already breaking her self-imposed no more drinking rule, but two glasses of wine on a full stomach is very much manageable. She thinks its incidental the first time Bryce’s outer thigh brushes against hers, but then it happens again and again. As dinner goes on Bryce seems to drift closer to Charlie, but it’s possible he’s just trying to get as far away as possible from Katelyn.

Dinner starts to wind down, and Bryce stands up and offers a hand to Charlie. “Would you like to take a walk My Dear?”

“Sure..” Charlie accepts Bryce’s hand and excuses herself from the table. She’s not certain of his motives, but she’s had more than enough of Katelyn for one day, so she'll take any excuse to escape. Bryce laces his fingers through hers and gives her hand a squeeze as they walk away.

Once out of earshot, Charlie questions Bryce. “Honey? My Dea? What’s with all the cutesy nicknames? I don’t think you have to lay it on that thick.”

“I believe I heard you call me Sweetie, Sugarlips.”

“Oh my god, Bryce.” Charlie playfully nudges her shoulder into his. “There’s noone to hear us now, so you can stop that nonsense.”

“Just trying them out.”

“Trying them out for what?”

Bryce shrugs. “Just in case.”

In case what? Charlie wonders. “Well if you call me Sugarlips in front of anyone else, I’m putting you on the first plane home.

Bryce laughs. “No Sugarlips. Got it. At least it’s better than Muffin.”

“Heh. They are the worst in every possible way, aren’t they?” Charlie looks up at Bryce, and his features are so striking in the moonlight, as if they aren’t also in every other light. She sighs inaudibly because she’s finally admitting to herself she’s starting to fall for him, even though it’s the last thing she should do.

Bryce leads her down a long pier with a gazebo at the end overlooking the water. It’s so peaceful and serene, that even though they are still in view of the group back at the restaurant, it feels like they are the only two around.

Bryce looks back at the others and then spins himself and Charlie around so his back is facing the crowd. “We have an audience. Should we give them a show?”

Charlie swallows hard. “Um, like what?”

Bryce weave his fingers through Charlie’s hair and presses his body close enough to hers she can feel the heat radiating off of him. “Wrap your arms around me.”  She does as instructed, sliding her hands up his back and feeling the contour of his taut muscles through the light cotton fabric of his button down shirt. He leans in close until their lips are a breath apart. She closes her eyes, waiting for what comes next, until she feels his forehead rest against hers.”There. They’ll definitely assume we are making out now.”

Charlie prays Bryce can’t hear how fast her heart is beating in her chest right now. And god, she hopes he doesn’t know she thought he was going to kiss her, and how much she actually wanted it. “Perfect.” She tries not sound disappointed. There’s a look in Bryce’s eyes Charlie can’t quite read. Sometimes it seems like he’s trying to test her, but she has no clue what he’s looking for and if she’s passing or failing. They remain that way for an indiscernible amount of time, until it feels like it’s been convincingly long enough, and Charlie yawns. ”I think I’m done for the day. You ready?”

Bryce places a hand on the small of Charlie’s back. “Lead the way.”

~~~

Charlie is exhausted by the time they get back to their hotel room, but at least tonight she’s sober enough to get ready for bed her self. She groans and gets embarrassed all over again just thinking about it. She settles into bed and flips the TV on until her eyelids get heavy.  She just about out when a loud creaking noise jolts her wide awake. Uncertain about what she just heard, she waits and the squeaking and creaking noises continue on the other side of the wall, until at last there’s a big, metallic thump and she rushes out in the living room to see what’s going on.

Bryce looks up from laying out his bedding on the now folded up sofa sleeper. “Sorry, did I wake you up?”

“Almost...what’s going on?”

“I told you how terrible this thing is to sleep on. I couldn’t stop tossing and turning, so I decided I might fare better on just the sofa part.”

“Bryce, let me sleep out here, and you take my bed.” Charlie insists. “Then one of us can get good sleep every other night at least.”

“Nah,” Bryce waves her off. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable at my expense.”

Charlie sighs deeply. “Fine if you are going to insist on being so stubbornly chivalrous, then why don’t we just share the bed?”

“What did you just say?” Bryce asks and Charlie thinks he just wants to make her say it again.

“It’s a king size bed. There’s plenty of space.”

A mischievous smiles creeps up on Bryce’s lips. “Any excuse to get me into bed with you, huh?”

Charlie picks up a pillow and chucks it at Bryce. “Just shut up and get in there before I take back my offer.”

Charlie climbs into the right side of the bed and keeps all the way to the edge to avoid any incidental touching. This had seemed like a better idea before it was actually happening. Maybe if she wasn’t interested in Bryce this would be no big deal, but she’s acutely aware of how close he is, clad only in his boxer briefs. What if she rolls over and cuddles him in her sleep? What if she drools on him again? What if he wakes up hard? She can’t get that last image out of her brain and she’s thankful for the darkness covering up the color in her cheeks.

“You know, if you move any further away, you’re going to fall right onto the floor. You don’t have to worry about me encroaching on your side.” Bryce pats the middle of the bed. “Make yourself comfortable.”

“Well, you might have to worry about me. I’m kind of a wild sleeper. You could wake up with me on top of you.”

Bryce chuckles. “I think I could handle that.”

Well I couldn’t. There’s something about Bryce’s tone of voice that gets her all worked up again, her entire body flush with heat, and he probably knows exactly what he’s doing to her. Despite her reservations, she moves a bit closer to the middle of the bed, but makes a point of putting her long body pillow as a barrier. “For my own peace of mind.”

Bryce laughs as he turns on his side. “Whatever makes you happy.”

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 211: Jane, Stop This Crazy Thing

Previously on BnHA: The fifth and final joint training battle began with Team DekuRakaMinaTa VS Team MonoShinYanaYuiShou. (There’s probably a better way to combine those last five names. Maybe it’s time to retire this joke.) Anyways, All Might answered a phone call from Gran Torino and went to go chat with him about OFA, probably thinking to himself that surely he wouldn’t miss much in just the next five minutes or so! So while he was doing that, Shouda, Yanagi, and Kodai attacked Ochako, Mina, and Mineta with a bunch of huge flying objects. And Monoma confronted Deku and started taunting him, first trying to goad him into revealing his friends’ location, and then trying to bait him by snidely accusing his boyfriend of being the one who caused the demise of the Symbol of Peace. Fucking ouch. He almost baited me with that one tbh. Anyway, that really pissed Deku off, but because he’s a smart kid he still didn’t respond and instead went to blast Monoma with his air gun attack. Except that all of a sudden some weird fucking shit started happening and Deku’s right hand basically exploded with black lightning. Ah, well, you know. Just One for All things.

Today on BnHA: Flashback!Monoma (from like five minutes ago) bonds with Shinsou over having quirks that don’t necessarily make one think “hero!” at first glance. He asks Shinsou how he goaded Deku into opening his mouth back at the sports festival, and Shinsou says he insulted his classmates. Monoma is all “!” and we then cut back to the present, where Deku is all “NNNNNGHHHH” and scary black tendrils are lancing out from his arm every which way trying to either capture Monoma or flat out kill him (who can say). At first everyone is all “Midoriya fucking powered himself up again?” not realizing that for once it was unintentional and he has no control over it. Once Deku starts screaming at everyone to run away -- and the “new technique” starts ripping apart the entire fucking stage -- it kinda starts to sink in, though. All Might tells Aizawa they need to end the match, and meanwhile Ochako floats herself up and latches on to Deku and then calls out to Shinsou for help. Probably because she’s learned her lesson about waiting on the teachers to ever do anything, sob.

(As always, all comments not marked with an ETA are my mostly-unspoiled reactions from my first readthrough of this chapter. I’m caught up with the manga now at chapter 224, so any ETAs will reflect that.)

LOOOOOOOOL

so we’re opening chapter 211 in exactly the way that everyone was expecting! with a fucking Monoma flashback lmao

whoever was telling him that, they’re really fucking stupid by the way. Monoma legit has one of the best quirks in the game. all it means is he would work best on a team, that’s all

so he’s bonding with Shinsou (this is a flashback, obviously, so that first panel was a flashback-within-a-flashback) over them both having quirks that people looked down on

look at that, Shinsou. even fucking Monoma adopted you

oh my god hold up. do I ship it?? ...lol I’m not sure

lol well Shinsou is saying “that doesn’t make me happy” in response to Monoma declaring they were the same type. so now I know they can banter, and so the answer is yes, I do in fact ship it. this is not a thing I was expecting to happen in this arc. Shinsou I’ve gone from you being in the background every so often popping up to remind us you exist, to me having adopted you and shipping you with at least two people, one of whom is the kid who in the previous chapter was like “hey you know that thing that Bakugou secretly harbors horrible guilt over? let me just go and get in his boyfriend’s face and be all ‘yeah it totally was his fault.’” man. life sure is funny

and apparently this little weasel did it on Shinsou’s advice!

LMAO Monoma this is the role you were born to play. all you have to do to succeed is insult class 1-A omg. can you do it? it’s gonna be so fucking hard for you, so out of character. you’ll have to dig down deep

anyway so I’m not sure if this is Monoma or Shinsou monologuing here (though I’m leaning toward Monoma because he’s responsible for 8 out of 10 monologues in general when he’s around) (ETA: yeah it’s Monoma), but either way it’s an interesting speech

ahh, and now we’re back in the present!

ahhhhhhhhh

goddamn it Horikoshi. I have no idea whose thoughts these are. whatever, I’ll have to figure it out and come back to reanalyze it later

(ETA: so hey, now that we’ve caught up to this point, I finally have access to the Viz translations again! their translation makes a lot more sense, and makes it clear this is just a continuation of Monoma’s speech. here:

I appreciate the deeper look into Monoma’s psyche, but I don’t know if I buy into this argument that his quirk forces him to act unheroically. Shinsou’s quirk is a different story perhaps, but there’s nothing about the copy quirk that necessitates unscrupulous conduct in order to win the day. it just so happens that he is very good at goading others, and it only makes sense to use that to his advantage when he can. like, it’s a respectable strategy, if one that doesn’t necessarily win you a lot of friends. 

I for one don’t feel like he needs to justify himself; it’s a battle, and you gotta do what you gotta do to try and give yourself the edge, especially when you’re up against the fucking main character. but anyway, maybe he feels a little guilty deep down and has to rationalize it like this. or maybe he’s just trying to bond with Shinsou and be all “yeah I get you man, you don’t have a choice, it’s rough.” or maybe a little of column A and a little of column B, who knows. anyways.)

in the meantime, check out Monoma and Shinsou’s confused and slightly apprehensive expressions! “did Midoriya’s arm just fucking explode”

apologies to everyone reading this liveblog for getting myself spoiled btw. I probably robbed you guys of a delightful time of watching me freak the fuck out and thinking Deku had lost control of OFA again and was gonna blow his arm off or some fucking shit. but instead I’m just fucking excited because this little shrubbery of a boy is about to level the fuck up and he doesn’t even know it yet

you can see why alternate universe me would have been so concerned. it looks like he’s having a heart attack and being sucked into the void. it looks like Miroku’s kazaana from Inuyasha. oh my god

Monoma my respect for you just increased tenfold. look at you keeping your cool while not having the slightest fucking clue what’s going on

(ETA: actually this reminds me a lot of Katsuki facing the League of Villains and running his mouth at them and appearing confident but all the while having that one bead of sweat visible the entire time. Monoma has a lot more in common with him than he may think.

...in fact, I would totally read an AU where Monoma does more successfully in the cavalry battle and makes it into the tournament and consequently ends up drawing the League’s attention instead of Katsuki -- because he does do a very decent villain impression, this one -- and as a result he’s the one who gets taken. featuring a bonus rescue attempt led by Tetsutetsu and Kendou, and a Kamino arc that strangely enough ends up playing out very similarly to the one we actually got, in the end. anyways. it’s an interesting What If to think about.)

oh hey I just noticed the chapter title is “successor” and FUCK YEAHHHH are we gonna get the spoiler in this chapter? cuz then I can go back to not being spoiled again, so that’ll be nice

oh SHIT

“RUN” IS GOOD ADVICE MONOMA, I’D FUCKING LISTEN TO HIM?!

NOW IT REALLY LOOKS LIKE THE KAZAANA. except blasting black lightning shit out instead of sucking shit in

wow this is fucking amazing. I love the potential for future battles, given how powerful it seems to be and yet how he appears to have no fucking clue how to control it and so it consequently becomes a double-edged sword putting himself and his comrades at risk. it’s a lot like Eri’s power in that sense

also Deku is making some amazing faces in this chapter and I feel like we should be appreciative

Monoma is not doing a half-bad job of dodging this maniac who is trying to fucking kill him

jesus christ. maybe next time we don’t insult his boyfriend, Monoma

now he’s turning to call Shinsou and he looks pretty rattled tbh

but you know who doesn’t look rattled, like at all?

I burst out laughing in real life oh my god. they’re just like “...must be Tuesday”

I mean, this kid went from breaking all his bones to suddenly having super agility to being super strong without breaking his bones to using fucking wind attacks. they probably have no idea what his quirk is at this point and so they’re just assuming this is just another natural evolution

and the thing is, they’re not wrong

oh shit now Deku’s fucking flying toward Shinsou

have him brainwash you and command you to turn it off then!

also, I wasn’t sure with the previous chapter but now I am sure that they definitely do have sound (by “they” I mean the teachers and other students watching, that is), because they were able to follow all that stuff with Shinsou’s voice changer in the first match. so they can hear Deku saying that he doesn’t have control. so what I’m saying here is the teachers should definitely be calling this match off immediately

but will they? well, it’s U.A. so I think we all know the answer to that. it ain’t over till somebody croaks

jesus now we’re cutting to the scene from a distance and this shit is even crazier than I thought

TEACHERS ARE YOU GOING TO DO ANYTHING? NO? OKAY

TEACHERS, DEKU HAS LOST CONTROL OF HIS QUIRK AND IS SMASHING THE TRAINING STAGE APART AND TRYING TO KILL FRIEND AND FOE ALIKE. ARE YOU GOING TO PUT A STOP TO THIS FIGHT? NO? OKAY

ALL MIGHT, YOUR BELOVED PROTEGE AND ADOPTED SON IS FLYING AROUND UNCONTROLLABLY AND DOESN’T KNOW HOW TO STOP. ARE YOU GOING TO -- you know what. just, never mind

oh shit

ffff Aizawa looking at him like “what’s this now? ‘stop’?”

(ETA: Aizawa. Aizawa listen to me. I need you to look me in the eye and tell me honestly -- if All Might hadn’t said anything, would you have just fucking stood there until everyone fucking died? would you have done anything?? how much more of your problem child hupping all around the stage with this bucking bronco of a quirk screaming “STOP!! STOP!!” would you have calmly observed before it occurred to you to fucking do your job. tell me. be honest. listen, I love and respect you, dude, but sometimes you make me a little concerned.)

god I am loving this so much. this is not at all how I expected this last match to go

ahhhhhh noooooo

he’s scared! he says it hurts! oh shit I’m sorry Deku I didn’t know it was hurting you ah fuck

though that makes sense, because it’s blasting out of your right fucking arm, though, because it’s always that fucking arm, isn’t it. and whatever this new quirk is, it’s at 100% just like OFA was when you first activated it. and we all know that pretty much all quirks can do a lot of damage to the user if used at full capacity for too long

there’s another panel of Ochako staring in horror. there’s been a lot of those. is it just to show her concern, or is she planning something to help him (I have no idea what she could do though), or is she taking mental notes here and this means she’ll be hounding him with questions about his quirk after this and will eventually learn about OFA too?

(ETA: thankfully no one other than Shouto thinks to ask, and Shouto accepts the weakest of excuses without hesitation because this is the densest and most trusting group of kids to ever walk the earth. Deku your secret is safe for life. all he has to do is just shrug his shoulders every damn time. “fucking quirks, though. wild.”)

ahhh now we’re really getting into Deku’s POV and he’s freaking out bad flkajlkj

no baby no don’t cry it’ll be all right

fuck. he’s scared and he’s frustrated because everything was finally starting to go so well and he was finally getting the hang of things and on his way to being a reliable hero, and now this stupid fucking quirk is out of control again and it’s like nothing he ever experienced before, and it hurts and he has no idea what to do and he might hurt other people and fucking shit, someone help him!!

AHHHH

ONE FOR ALL YOU BETTER LISTEN TO HIM!!

is he crying blood??!

(ETA: sure looks like it. jesus Deku you’re dramatic as fuck.)

okay WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING

OH MY GOD

OCHAKO

girl when I said I had no idea what you could do to help him, that’s because I didn’t think you’d be crazy enough to fucking float yourself right at him when he’s losing it like this

goddamn that’s a ballsy fucking move though, shit

oh shit!

brainwash him and get control of him and then she can float him down to safety! yes!! do it!!

MY GIRL OCHAKO SAVING THE DAY AND MY BOY SHINSOU BEING BRAVE IN THE CLUTCH AND SAVING DEKU AS WELL AND HOPEFULLY GETTING INTO CLASS A FOR HIS EFFORTS. OH SHIT. THIS IS AMAZING. DOES THIS ARC HAVE HATERS?? I CAN’T UNDERSTAND WHY IT WOULD OH SHIT I FUCKING LOVE ALL OF THIS

Shinsou looks like a deer in fucking headlights by the way. like someone just caught him doing something super embarrassing. haha I love it

oh my god I’m gonna go read the next one

[lurafita]

It’s not easy to kidnap Spiderman

There are so, S.O., many fanfics that have normal, human, non-enhanced criminals successfully kidnapping Peter Parker. And I may have ranted about how people always noob Peter down too much, but it just baffles me every time.

And you can of course always make the argument that Peter isn’t willing to risk his secret identity, but that doesn’t mean he can’t use a fraction of his abilities to incapacitate his kidnappers and get away.

So, keeping that in mind, I wrote a little crack piece. By the by, Tony hasn’t sold the Tower and I am completely and blissfully ignoring Infinity War. Thanos can chuck himself into a freaking volcano.

Tony was in his workshop, deep in an inner debate with himself about re-enabling the BabyMonitorProtocol. He knew that, in a way, it was an invasion of privacy and might even be interpreted as distrust in Peter’s abilities and resposibilities as a hero. And that was definitely NOT what he wanted to convey. Peter had a unique and diverse skillset. With the right training (it had taken 3 weeks for them to figure out what actually worked for Peter) he had come a long way in properly using and controlling his powers, without having to compromise himself by holding back too much in a fight. Peter knew when a situation required back up and would never risk the safety of civilians by entering a fight that had him hopelessly outmatched. Peter knew that Tony would always, always, come when he called. (They had had a very, v.e.r.y. long discussion about that. ) Tony trusted the kid.

BUT, that didn’t change the fact that what the kid was doing, was dangerous.

Spiderman didn’t just swing around tall buildings (at speeds and altitudes that gave Tony heart palpitations), or rescue little kittens out of trees.

Spiderman caught out of control vehicles in busy traffic. Spiderman leapt into burning buildings. Spiderman got fucking SHOT AT!

Tony had, of course, improved the suit and made it as sturdy and safe as humanly possible. But considering that the material couldn’t be too thick, so as not to impede his sticky appendages, nor too hard, so as not to restrict his super-human flexibility, there were simply limits to what could be done. One of those limits, frustratingly, was that Tony hadn’t yet found a way to make the suit bulletproof.

And yes, Peter had the ability to dodge gunfire (thank god for the spider-sense), but that didn’t automatically make things safer. Superheroes were just as likely (sometimes even more so) to make mistakes as the next person. Sometimes you underestimate your opponent. Sometimes you zig, when you should zag. Sometimes things just go wrong.

Add to that how Peter liked to hide injuries from his aunt as well as his mentor/dad (because Tony had signed the shit out of those adoption/shared custody agreement papers as soon as May Parker had given her blessing), and it was really no wonder that Tony found himself counting new grey hairs on a weekly basis.

He would just feel that much better if the BabyMonitorProtocol was back up and he would be appraised of every little scuffle, altercation and injury as they happened, all the time, 24 fucking 7. No, he was not an overprotective helicopter parent, stop laughing Rhodey!

“Incoming call from Peter Parker.” Friday’s voice cut suddenly through his thoughts.

Tony took a deep, apprehensive breath. Just because the kid called right then didn’t have to mean he was in trouble. This could be a purely social call. Get it together.

“Put him through, Fri. Hey Pete.”

“Hi Mr. Stark!” Good, the kid sounded neither distressed, nor hurt. There was no gunfire, screaming or sounds of explosions in the backround. Just a social call then, thank god.

“Whats up, kid? Someone treat you to a churro again?” He smirked at hearing the put upon sigh from the other end of the line.

“Is anyone ever going to let this go? She was a nice lady and it was a yummy snack. I regret nothing.”

“Of course. So, what’s shaking? You are not calling to bail on me for our lab time later, are you?” He leaned back in his chair, relaxed smile on his lips.

“Oh god, please, no one says ‘what’s shaking’ anymore, Dad.” Peter whined and Tony’s smile grew. They had a weird relationship with names. For Tony it was Kid, Spiderling, Underoos, any variation he could come up with for the name Peter, and (the newest one) Son. While Peter liked to cycle through Mr. Stark, Tony, and more and more regularly, Dad. If Tony’s eyes were a teeny, tiny bit wet the first time Peter called him ‘Dad’, no one had to know.

“Anyway, the reason why I’m calling is,... uhm... well....” UhOh. That was Peter’s ‘I may be in trouble’ voice.

Tony snapped back upright in the chair, as the kid continued.

“...the thing is, I’m currently in the office of the Captain of the New York Police Department, and-”

“WHAT?!” He sprang up off his seat. “Friday! My suit! Now!”

“No, no no no no. Wait! Tony, wait! Calm down. It’s nothing bad”

Yeah, he was NOT reassured. The kid had once stumbled into the tower after patrol, hand pressed against a six inch long stab wound gushing blood, and claimed it was ‘nothing bad’.

“What happened? Why are you in the Captains office? Are you hurt?” The Ironman suit continued to assemble around his body as Friday opened one of the floor to ceilling windows for his take off.

“Not hurt, I promise. It’s just that Captain Stacy thought this call would better be made in privat and the bullpen was kinda loud, though there was this really cool guy who-”

“PETER!” This kid! (”5 minutes until you arrive at the NYPD, Sir.”)

“Right, right, sorry. So, I was just on my way home, minding my own business, and maybe hoping that that cute german shephard would be out in his yard again and I could play with him a little and NOT THE POINT, sorry, so, me just walking along the street, totally innocent, and then suddenly this white panel van parks a few feet in front of me.”

Oh god. That was exactly how crime and horror movies started, wasn’t it? Was now the right time to have a panic attack? (”4 minutes to destination.”)

“And then this man gets out, pretty buff and tall and I was just a little bit jealous, because like, I can benchpress a french frying* [*earlier post on how Peter avoids a ‘language lecture’ by swearing using food names] bus with no sweat and still have total noodle arms, and how is that fair”

“PETER!” This KID! (”3 minutes to destination”)

“Sorry! So, the guy asks me for directions to cityhall, but he doesn’t get it when I explain it to him, so he asks if I would ride with him and show him. And, like, my spidey-sense is this low buzz, like, this guy is probably up to no good, but not a real threat to me, right? And he said he would drive me back later and that he had some candy as a thank you, so-”

“You got into the van?!” Forget the panic attack, his fucking heart was about to stop!

“Did you not hear me mention the part where he promised me candy?”

Which arm was supposed to hurt again when you got a heart attack? This fucking kid! (”2 minutest to destination.”)

“Anyway, I climb into the passenger side and the guy starts the engine and all of a sudden my spidey sense is blaring and I slip down in the seat, before the guy that was hiding in the back can press his knife to my throat.”

Oh god oh god oh god.

“So then I grab the hand and twist it just a little, until he has to let go of the knife, and he screams and the knife falls right beside the hand brake. But then the buff guy driving makes a grab for it, so I punch him in the face, right? But I may have punched just a little bit too hard, cause next thing I know, he is unconcious and his head has fallen on the car horn in the middle of the steering wheel. And now the van is still going, but no one is steering and I still have the other guy’s arm at this angle that must have been incredibly uncomfortable for him, because he just keeps on screaming and the donuts* car horn is really french frying* loud and it’s all giving me a headache. So I pull back and knock the guy behind me out, too, and grab the wheel and yank it to the other side, because we were about to hit a tree. I get the buff guy off the steering wheel, and thank god, finally some quiet, but his foot is still on the gas, so I grab the hand brake and yank it up. And then the tires are squeeling and the engine is stuttering and I might have knicked my hand on the knife that had fallen there earlier, so I’m a little startled and yank the wheel again and then the van crashed into a parking police car.”

There is a moment of silence, Tony can see the NYPD building in the distance. (”30 seconds to destination, boss. May I suggest some mild breathing exercises to slow your heartbeat down some?”)

“But don’t worry! By that time the van had slowed down enough that the damage wasn’t too bad. Though Detective Mahoney spilled his coffee all over his shirt.” Ironman landed in front of the station, drawing quite a few looks all around him. “So I explain everything to the Detective Mahoney and his partner Detective Sanchez, who is like super cool and promised to help me study for my next spanish exam.” The suit dissembled around him and formed into a suitcase in his hand as Tony Stark, clad in a faded band shirt and soft blue pyjama pants (it was supposed to be his day off and he had, for once, slept in), ran up the stairs (as if he would waste time waiting for the elevator) to where he knew the Captains office was (Thanks Friday). “Turns out, these guys have been kidnapping kids like this for the last four weeks and were waiting to get two more to ship off to some kind of slave trade ring in a foreign country. So the Detectives interrogated them and got the location for where they are hiding the poor, missing kids and like half the precinct is on their way to free them.” One more floor and he would be there. At least now the heavy breathing could be attributed to running up so many fucking stairs. “I tried to slip away and get in the suit and follow the police cars, make sure the kids are alright and all, you know? But then the Captain came up to me and clapped me on the shoulder and was like ‘Good job, kid. That was very brave, but now lets call your parents and make sure you get home safe.’ And then he led me into his office and sat me on his couch, which is nowhere near as comfy as the ones in the tower, but whatever, and told me to call someone and that he would come back to talk to us a little later.” It wasn’t every day that Tony Stark bursts through the doors of the Major Crime unit of the New York Police Department in the clothes he slept in, so the officers in the room could be excused for any open mouthed gaping that may have taken place. “And, you know, Aunt May just came off a double shift in the hospital and I really didn’t wanna wake her, so I thought I better call you instead. So, can you come over to the NYPD? But like, don’t stress. If you have something important to do, that’s totally okay. I can just hang around for a few hours until May has gotten enough sleep and call her then. And maybe Detective Sanchez will-”

Peter was interrupted from his call when the door to the Captains office nearly flew off its hinges as Tony ran right in, a desperate, slightly manic look in his eyes. “Oh, that was quick. Hey Dad.”

THIS FUCKING KID!

And yes, fine, it may not be much of an exaggeration when Peter later complained that Tony cuddled him on that couch for the better part of 20 minutes. It may also be true that he threatened to sue everyone and their mother more than once, everytime someone from the police department tried to interrupt his, very justified, fussing over his kid. He also makes damn sure that Peter doesn’t leave his direct proximity for the entire time they stay at the station. Peter gave his official statement, they got to watch when the freed kids were reunited with their overjoyed, tearful parents, who all come over to thank Peter in person for his part in finding their children, and Detective Sanchez gave Peter her card and personal number for those spanish lessons. During all that time, Tony has managed to inform May, Pepper and Happy about everything, and the three soon join them at the station. While May and Pepper take over fussing over Peter and hugging him to death (the kid sends him a very nasty look over the womens shoulders), Tony is already on his phone, programming Karen to reengage the BabyMonitorProtocol and sending the code to one of his Stark watches that he is going to fucking weld around the kids wrist so he can never take it off. He doesn’t even care how much Rhodey laughs at and calls him an overprotective helicopter parent again later. 

[prydon]

a ( VERY LONG) long island geek rundown

aka me just rambling on about paul for paragraphs upon paragraphs, complete with pictures.

so i went to the con with the lovely @haiileyrutledge aka maggie who drove me all the way there from the philly bus station (god bless), it was our first time meeting in person and i still can’t really believe we did this just a few months after we were just kinda joking about going together on twitter when we hardly knew each other

literally the first second we walked into the con, before we’d even gotten our badges, paul mcgann was sitting RIGHT THERE at his autograph table and i may or may not have started aggressively hitting maggie in the shoulder and freaking out and hissing “he’s there, HE’S THERE” and she had to drag me past him so we could get our badges

then we sat in on the panel before his to make sure we got good seats for his. it was a panel with wendy padbury and frazer hines and they were adorable!! by the end of their panel we were literally buzzing tho bc we knew what was next

when paul came in the first thing he did was squint up at the ceiling and complain about the brightness of the lights, like “oh this is quite harsh isn’t it” so they turned them down for him, much to maggie’s chagrin bc she’s a photographer and it made it very hard to take nice photos (look forward to her uploading her photos btw, she got some GREAT shots regardless of lighting)

then we all sang happy birthday to paul, per the interviewer’s instructions! it was v cute. someone uploaded a video of it on youtube. (i took one too, but it was much worse quality)

first question the interviewer asked was what the secret to paul’s eternal youth was, which paul took a SUSPICIOUSLY long time thinking about before finally just claiming it was his insomnia. how not sleeping is supposed to make you look better i have no idea, but it’s clearly not hurting paul’s appearance, despite him “not having slept since the nineties” (his words)

and so on went the panel. it was quite fun, and though i’d heard almost all the anecdotes paul told before, they weren’t ones he’d told a million times and the interviewer asked interesting questions about his brothers and some of his earlier roles.

he also asked him about holby- the most recent episode, even- which i was not expecting lol. he asked paul if gaskell was really dead, and paul was just like “lol it’s a soap, who knows what could happen” and joked about another soap character whose death had turned out to be a dream. 

also of note is that paul never called gaskell by name once and exclusively referred to him as “doctor death” lmaooo. i actually know why this is- he mentioned on a radio show a week or so ago that a holby city fan yelled “doctor death!” at him in the street once- but he didn’t....explain this background to the panel audience, so i’m sure many were baffled by it :”D the interviewer was like “so your most recent role, professor john gaskell-” and paul was literally like “ah, yes. doctor death!” asoifjsaij what a dork

^ this pic is actually from the sunday panel but god, actual dork with a heart of gold paul mcgann being juxtaposed next to menacing shots of “doctor death” was never not hilarious 

speaking of holby, I GOT TO ASK HIM A QUESTION DURING THE Q & A, and i asked him what it was like working with guy henry! he said working with old friends is tough bc they know all your acting tricks lol. he went on gently roast guy and say he’s looked like he was 40 since they were at rada and that one of their professors told guy that he was the kind of person who wouldn’t find real success until he WAS like 40 bc he just had one of those faces, and lo and behold, that was case. notably, paul said all of this while holding eye contact with me since it was my question, and i was literally trembling by the end of his response bc i can barely hold eye contact with my family members let along PAUL JOHN MCGANN

he also said “fuck” at one point. at another he pulled the cap off his water bottle with his teeth and maggie and i were both like...*sweating*

after that we got our photo ops! then managed to get some food in us, and then i went to get paul’s autograph and give him his bday gift, which i already detailed here [x] so i won’t get into that. notably he also called maggie photogenic and said their photo op looked like a housewarming photo of a couple just moving in. we were both dying afterwards.

theeeen that evening i attended a dinner party for fans with vip passes that the stars also attended! the food was v yummy. there was ice cream too.

unfortunately i didn’t end up at paul’s table, but i was at the table next to him so i may have eavesdropped. my table had jon davey, who plays cybermen and daleks and ood etc, and who was very funny and decidedly attractive, and who at one point pulled out his phone and showed me this video while nearly dying of laughter over it

paul was actually late to the dinner because he crashed a painting panel!!

^ here’s him painting his tardis picture with his dorky ass reading glasses on. what an old man. i love him

he did show up eventually, and ended up drinking a decent amount of red wine and i’m pretty sure got tipsy and at one point misheard the person next to him as saying “penis hands” and was like “penis hands???? PENIS HANDS???”

all my table ended up leaving early but paul’s all stayed hanging on his every word bc that’s the effect he has on people :’)) so i ended up scooting over there just to listen. at one point his assistant came over and whispered to me that paul HAD gotten the letter i gave him with his gift and he WOULD read it tonight and i was like “omg no it’s ok, i didn’t need him to reply asap or anything, i just wanted him to have it!!”

i left the dinner when paul left- his table were the last ones out- and maggie was outside the dinner waiting for me and may have collapsed into a fit of giggles when she saw paul. then we went to our airbnb and fuckin CRASHED because we were so damn exhausted

on to SUNDAY

i started placing bets on what paul would be wearing that day on sunday morning, since i know he only has like three different con outfits that he wears. lo and behold we get to the con and he’s wearing THE EXACT SAME CLOTHES AS SATURDAY. like, down to the scarf and shoes. they were 100% the same.

idk why he was, but he must have washed them, or he must be an ethereal being incapable of sweating because he was just as nice and fresh as the previous day [shrug]

we wandered around the dealer’s room for a bit, maggie bought a vinyl from a charity sale booth and i bought a couple dwms with bb eight on them bc why not

my lovely internet friends and fellow paul superfans @savageinkspillage and @paulmcgannlesbian both paid me to buy them autographs, and i was happy to oblige because it meant i got to talk to paul again

i went up to his booth and he said “good to see you again!!” and told me he was so touched by the birthday card :”0 and thanked me again for the drawing!

i told him what names to sign to for the autographs and there was an incredible moment where i told him to address one to “brittany” and his brain like. short-circuited and he tried to spell it out to me except he spelled it some ridiculous white mom way like “B-R-I-T-N-I-Y” or something and i just stared at him for a moment not sure if he was fucking with me before being like “.....no?”

once i told him “two t’s” he got it and said “like the place!!” and asked me if i knew where brittany was in a stern teacher voice and i was p sure it was france but not 100% so i was just like “d-don’t quiz me”

he also let me take pictures of him holding the autographs that i could send to my friends, which was very sweet!! here’s him with @savageinkspillage‘s.

he was very determined that we let them dry before taking them because he didn’t want them to be smudged, and blew gently on them himself like a dork.

before we could go, he also fully just was like “give me a hug” and got up and hugged me AGAIN. THREE PAUL MCGANN HUGS IN ONE WEEKEND. T H R E E.

then after he hugged me he noticed the bowie vinyl that maggie had just bought in the dealer’s room and was like “!!!!!! is that a vinyl!!!! can i see!!!”

maggie was like “of course” and handed it over and he was FAWNING over the thing and promptly informed us that it was definitely an original print bc it was made of a special sort of material only used to make records in the 70s, and that it had never been played. maggie said she got it for $10 and he was like “TEN BUCKS??”

he also sniffed it because apparently “that’s what you did with vinyls” and took it out of its sleeve (with maggie’s permission) and freakin’ messed with it to show us how bendy the materal was before giving it back to maggie and emphatically telling her to “treasure that”.

he asked us where we got it and i said it was at a table in the dealer’s room, next to where they were keeping his painting from the night before. upon hearing about the painting he was immediately like “noooo don’t remind me of that!! i’m so ashamed!!” and i was like “WTH PAUL NO IT WAS SO GOOD”

here’s paul’s painting!! it’s lovely!!

also at one point maggie’s hoop earring fell out and full on, like, made a break for paul mcgann and rolled behind his chair. she was embarrassed but he just picked it up and messed with it, feigning putting it on his ear and saying he wished he was a girl so he could wear earrings like that and i was like “you should get your ears pierced!” because he SHOULD. he just laughed.

we literally had a whole, like, probably 10 minute conversation with him and he was just so lovely and funny and warm and thanked me one last time for the drawing before we walked away soasifjsaoifj 

THEN it was time for his sunday panel!! it was a great change of pace from usual panels, it was called “doctor’s orders” and run by a podcaster who’d based it on advice columns- basically, he asks paul a bunch of questions looking for advice that he’d gathered from fans and paul had to impart his wisdom.

here are just a few choice tidbits from the panel:

q: what do i do if my boyfriend never puts the toilet seat down? paul: get rid of him

q: there are beehives in my house, what do i do?? paul: don’t kill them!! bees are our friends. move out. let the bees have the house instead

q: boxers or briefs? paul: briefs. *pointed look at audience* some of us need the support.

he was asked the trolley problem and said without hesitation that he would move the trolley to kill the one instead of the five. he also endorsed stealing from businesses to feed the hungry (unsurprising because *cough* he’s a socialist). he revealed that he shoplifted all the time as a kid as a right of passage in working class liverpool and asked the audience to raise their hands if they’d ever shoplifted. when a decent amount did, he called it a sign of a healthy society. he doted on his sons quite a bit which was adorable, and said he was the “soft touch” when they were growing up while mum was bad cop.

at one point he said if liverpool won the premiere league he’d “sit naked here in front of you” and then immediately was like “...i don’t know why i said that.” the audience was roaring with laughter the entire time. it was legitimately the funnest panel i’ve ever been too :’0 and we had front row seats!!

at the end, the host opened the panel up to the audience to ask their advice questions, and maggie asked one about how to survive while studying abroad in london next year. paul gently ribbed her at first being like “well, remember to sleep and eat” but then reassured her “you’ll be fine” and i could physically feel her melting beside me.

after the panel he chatted a bit with the women next to us, who i know to be old guards of paul mcgann fandom. i didn’t hear much but i did hear paul refer to “that brexit shit” lol.

the last time maggie and i saw paul, he seemed to be leaving the con and nearly tripped over a remote control cybermat on the way out, which was cute.

all in all...i really don’t have words for how amazing this was. i couldn’t have asked for a better environment to meet my favorite actor in, and i have gained so many wonderful memories that i can’t even keep track of them all, and i can’t wait to do it again.

[letitrainasunnyday]

Hi! Recently I've been rewatching the old black organization related cases and I stumbled upon something that caught my attention. You know how it's a popular belief that Shinichi is always cool and collected. But while I was watching that one episode he runs after Vodka and then tries to trick them but is caught by Gin again, Shinichi, as Conan ends up hiding inside a locker and then starts to suffer what perfectly could've been a panic attack (1)

(2) with him hyperventilating and such, and even falling unconscious at the end. I just wanted to share this with u because it seems to be a scene that's not really paid much attention to, even I had completely forgotten, but i think it's important. I was wondering what were your thoughts about it. Thanks!

YES YES YES YES YES YES!!!! BIG YES!!!!! HUGE YES!!!!! MONUMENTAL YES!!! THIS IS AN AMAZING QUESTION THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR POINTING THAT OUT!!!

And seeing as you made such a wonderful recap of that amazing scene, let me bring out another one just to sustain my point. 

Very recently, in the files directly after the 1000 File Arc, when we learn that Shinichi has fucked shit up cause he’s on TV and now everyone is searching for him, there’s a particular panel that just hit me really hard. As they struggle to find ways to fool the press --and the BO--, Conan starts suggesting random, and definitely not plausible ways to do so. Agasa asks him to stop joking around, and Conan, freaking the holy fuck out and damn nearly shitting his pants, grumbles that he’s literally so batshit terrified that if he doesn’t joke around he might just really lose his mind. 

First of all, same.

Second of all, these two moments are literally pivotal character-making scenes. We’re used to seeing an overly confident Shinichi, a guy who believes in himself and in his capabilities, a guy who doesn’t doubt himself much. We are used to knowing that Shinichi always wins in the end, that no matter how hard or terrifying things get, he always has or finds a way out, no sweat. 

All of a sudden, that’s not as clear anymore. All of a sudden our hero is in deep shit and he may not make it out alive. 

But beyond that, all of a sudden our man --the Heisei Holmes, the Great Detective of the East, the Savior of the Japanese Police-- is so terrified, is so scared, that he actually becomes a child. We’ve seen Shinichi in his Conan form for so long that it’s just natural. It seems almost too normal to us to see a child acting like an adult. We don’t question it. But, ah, what happens when, despite seeing that adult façade, we still see the child? What happens when all of a sudden a seven year old boy trapped in a locker literally passes out because of fear? 

Now our Heisei Holmes doesn’t seem so high and mighty, now does he? He seems --and oh yes, you bet your ass I’m gonna say it-- human. 

And we just feel for him. Because we’re not seeing a 17 year old male be scared. If that were the case, we’d feel compassion for him, sure, but we wouldn’t see it as something tragic. Our hearts wouldn’t necessarily break for him. But we see a child. For once, Shinichi really assumes the child persona all the way through. And it breaks us. It haunts us because this boy trapped in a child’s body becomes an uncontrollable panicked mess. He becomes a child. 

Both scenes make him awfully vulnerable. In the locker scene, we just want to get to him and save him, we want to get him out. For the first time we feel like we can actually save him instead of him saving everyone else --including us, maybe. In the second scene, the one I mentioned post-Kyoto, we’re the ones that are terrified. I remember a chill going through my veins when I read that because it hit me, holy shit, holy shit our boy does not have things under control. Holy shit I’m on the verge of biting off all of my nails because I’m so scared about Shinichi and for once since I’ve met him this kid does not have a plan. This kid is really freaking out as badly as I am because he doesn’t see a way out and man if Shinichi Kudo doesn’t see a way out we are all pretty fucking done for, lemme tell you that. 

The thing is, those are not the only two times Shinichi has been scared. Oh, no. I’d bet my salary that Shinichi is scared every day of his life. But he’s both learned to live with the fear and gotten good at hiding it. Really good. 

And isn’t that just even more heartbreaking?

So it goes beyond the fact that it makes Shinichi vulnerable and human and down to earth and real. It goes beyond a narrative device so that the hero of the story seems less powerful and thus more accessible to us. It goes beyond all of that because we’ve gone through so much with him, that we no longer realize it’s a narrative device, we just ache for him. Our hearts are racing and we’re sweating our pain out because if this guy is in deep shit, we’re in deep shit. 

Both of those moments have to be remembered more often whenever people try and argue that Shinichi is too perfect, or that he is unbreakable, or that he never screws up. He does, plenty. And he is just as scared as anyone else would be. He’s just good at hiding it. 

Except in those moments where fear is too great to hide. 

And we’ve all had some of those, haven’t we?

[teacoffeeandwhatnot]

The Gay Agenda - Chapter 5

 Look at me, actually uploading when I said I would oml! Chapter 5 is here, and its Jren. 

Please keep in mind, sentences written in Italic is what is being said by the panel, or people in the studio. Normal text is what is happening otherwise.

As always, also available on my Ao3!

(if you want me to tag you every time i update, please dont hesitate to message me and I’ll add it in the next chapter)

“Our next contestant is Choi M-“

“Holy shit, is that Minki?!” Jeonghan interrupts Holland, jumping out of his seat to get a better look at the screen in front of them.

“Uhh, yes, do you know him?” Holland questions.

“Yeah, shit, he’s my cousin. I don’t know why I didn’t think of him for this show, he’s like a lover of all things gay. Also, he already works here so it’s perfect.”

“Well then, I guess I can save myself the introduction,” Holland laughs. “Do you happen to know what his type is?”

“Oh yeah, for sure. He’s into like super nerdy guys which is kind of ironic because, even though he works in the freaking comic book store, he could not be less interested in them.”

“Ah, well then it should be easy to find someone that’s his type then, I guess. Let’s see how he gets on.”

He knows he should really be spending his money on better things as a 23-year-old, but Jonghyun can’t help himself, so he finds himself on the bus for his weekly visit to the comic book store. It also has nothing to do with the pretty shop clerk whom he has successfully avoided talking to for weeks now, nope. Nothing at all. He totally doesn’t spend half his time there staring at him, and not the comic books. Definitely not.

Ever since the new guy has started working there, his visits to the store have become significantly more nerve wracking and he finds his hands sweating a worrying amount every time he pushes the door open. He really needs to get his shit together.

He walks straight to the Haikyu section, deliberately not looking towards the counter, where he knows the beautiful boy is. He knows his name is Minki, having glanced at his name tag out of the corner of his eye last time, when he had been busy ringing up another costumer.

Even though he only glanced in his direction for about half a second through the glass door before entering, he is still hyperaware of Minki, slouching over the counter, looking bored out his mind, sucking on a goddamn lollipop. He also belatedly realizes that Minki seems to be the only employee here, which means that, if he wants to buy something, he will inevitably have to talk to him. Which is generally a good thing, forcing him to finally have a conversation, but he’s also scared shitless. He knows he gets all stuttery and awkward when faced with pretty people he may or may not have a small (massive) crush on, so there is probably a high chance he’s going to embarrass himself. For a second he considers just not buying anything and high tailing it out of the store, before he realizes how stupid that is. He gives himself a short mental pep-talk before finally deciding to get his shit together, picks up the book he wants and makes his way towards the counter. Previously he had always waited, sometimes agonisingly long, until Minki was busy or went on break and his co-worker took over, before he went to the counter, as to avoid the situation he was in now.

He placed his book on the counter, finally managed to look up and made direct eye contact with Minki for the first time. He was frozen for a minute, lost in the man’s eyes before he was shaken out of his stupor.

“Only this then?” Minki asked.

“Uh, y-yeah.” Jonghyun mentally cursed at himself for the little stutter and cleared his throat. “Just this one today,” he managed, trying to sound a little more confident and not like his legs were about to give in any second.

“So have you finally decided to stop avoiding me then?” Jonghyun’s head snapped up from where he lowered it again, staring at Minki with a panicked expression, who was smirking at him with a knowing smile.

“What? I was not- I’m not- I didn’t…,” he stuttered, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation.

“Dude, literally every time you’re here you stare holes into the side of my head but you never come up to the counter when I’m here and always wait till Minhyun is at the counter or I’m busy. I feel a little bit offended to be honest, what do you have against me? I don’t bite.”

Minki says all of this with a smirk on his face, so Jonghyun knows he isn’t mad, (and mortifyingly probably knows why Jonghyun was staring) but he can’t help but feel faint.

“I wasn’t staring at you.” Minki cocks his head, giving him a ‘you’ve got to be shitting me’ expression. “I just admire those posters behind the counter.”

“Sure you do, my dude, sure you do.” Jonghyun doesn’t think his face will ever return to its natural colour, destined to stay permanently crimson at this point. He realizes that Minki is almost done ringing up his book and with that his time actually talking to him will be over soon. Scrambling to keep the conversation going, he asks, “Uh, so I’ve been looking for a new series, preferably something similar to Haikyu, so like sports and rivalries, etc. do you have any recommendations?”

Minki shrugs, “No idea, dude, I’ve never read a manga in my life. I can ask my colleague though and let you know?”

Jonghyun belatedly realizes his mouth is hanging open in shock and quickly closes it.

“What do you mean you’ve never read one, you work in a comic book store?”

“Yeah, because my cousin, whether he admits it or not, is a sucker who would do anything for me, and he knows the owner so he got me the job. I’m a broke college student, I take what I can get. ”

“Fucking brat,” Jeonghan mumbles under his breath.

Up until this point, Jonghyun had been convinced that Minki was perfect and most definitely the love of his life, but this could not be overlooked. This was a major character flaw that needed to be corrected immediately.

“Ok, but like that’s unacceptable. I’m sorry, but you have no choice, you have to be educated. I will sacrifice my precious time and be your teacher, out of the goodness of my heart.”

(Minki honestly couldn’t believe that it could’ve gone any better. Whether he knew it or not, the cute customer had done his whole job for him, and he didn’t even need to come up with some bullshit excuse to spend more time with him. He was going to win, for sure.)

“I’ll let you educate me under two conditions.”

“Ok? And those would be?”

“One, we go find a café and have a drink while you tell me all about your little… books.”

Jonghyun made a face. For one at the comment about his ‘little books’ and secondly out of confusion. Wouldn’t it make more sense for him to educate Minki in the comic book store, so he could provide examples?

“Uh sure I guess, I mean here would be better, but if you want. And the second one?”

“You have to tell me your name,” Minki grinned. “So far I’ve only been calling you Onibugi in my head.”

Once again, Jonghyun felt his face heat up. Minki had been calling him a nickname in his head? For how long? Did this mean that he would also think about him? This was lowkey too much information for him to handle all at once.

“O-onibugi? Why?”

“Cuz you kinda look like one, don’t you think?” Minki squished his cheek and Jonghyun was ready to die then and there.

They decided to go to a little ice cream parlour on the second floor of the mall, since Minki said he was craving a milkshake, and who was Jonghyun to deny him. The entire 3 minute walk there, Jonghyun could help but sneak glances at Minki’s side profile. His long hair swished gracefully back and forth as he was walking and Jonghyun really had to fight every nerve in his body to not give into his urge to run his fingers through it and see how soft it really was. The first time Jonghyun had seen Minki, he had thought that he was a girl, quickly proven wrong when Minki had called out to his co-worker in a voice too deep for a girl and called him hyung. Now, Jonghyun had never really thought about his sexuality in depth, so he probably would’ve fallen in love with Minki no matter if he was a girl or a boy, but he was kind of relieved that Minki had been a boy, since in his opinion, girls are even more terrifying to talk to than guys. Or so he had thought. Minki seemed intimidating no matter what, hence the long time it took him to start talking to him.

Arriving at the café, they quickly found a small table for two in the corner and scanned the menu.

“You want to share a milkshake?” Minki asked.

Considering Jonghyun could barely get through a conversation with him, he doubted he would survive sharing a drink with the other.

“Uh, no, I’m good, you get your own drink. I’ll pay.”

“Aww Jonghyunnie, that’s not what I meant, but thanks! So generous.”

The obvious flirting that Minki sends his way completely flying over his head, Jonghyun launches into a speech about Haikyu as soon as they get their drinks.

“Ok so, I don’t know where to begin. Let me just tell you the plot first, I think that’ll help you understand how awesome it is. So basically it’s about this guy who joins the volleyball team of this formerly prestigious high school and he’s like obsessed with this other player who is like the star player of this team and was basically like a jump god for them, so he trains all the time to try and become like him. He ends up…” Jonghyun trails off when he looks up and realizes that Minki doesn’t seem to be listening to him at all, but is rather just staring at his mouth. Self-consciously he rubs over his lips, thinking he might’ve gotten some of his milkshake somewhere on his face.

“Minki, are you even listening to me?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, sure I am.”

Jonghyun isn’t completely convinced, but continues trying to convince Minki that comics are the best thing in this world and that he is missing out.

“Ok well he ends up clashing really hard with this setter – how much do you know about volleyball by the way? Actually it doesn’t really matter – so anyways he clashes with this setter is also like a really good player so everyone calls him king, but he’s more like a tyrant, I guess? And yeah –“ Suddenly, there are lips on his. He was so engrossed in his speech he hadn’t realized that Minki had gotten closer, lifted his chin up and just planted one on him.

It was over way too quickly, Jonghyun hadn’t even closed his eyes and he just ended up stupidly blinking at Minki when he pulled back, with his mouth slightly open.

All of a sudden, all the pieces in his head seem to align. Holy shit, Minki had been flirting with him this entire time.

“Holy shit, you were flirting with me this entire time.”

Minki let out a loud laugh. “I’m glad you finally caught on, I thought I couldn’t make it more obvious. I mean I flat out told you I have zero interest in comics and yet I still listened to you ramble for like an hour. I felt like I had to help you along a little bit.”

Jonghyun scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “Yeah sorry, I get really into it when I talk about comics… also like… you’re beautiful? I thought you’d never go for someone like me. I mean, you could have anyone.”

“Not go for someone like you? What, you mean a cute, nerdy, hot guy with a deep voice? How the fuck could I not go for you?”

Before he could blush and stutter some more, Minki leaned in again and this time Jonghyun was prepared. He managed to close his eyes, kiss back and even cup the side of Minki’s face. He couldn’t believe that this was happened and inwardly cursed at himself for not talking to the cute clerk earlier.

Later, when they’re walking back to the comic book store hand in hand, Minki’s phone goes off.

“Oh hey Jeonghan, how are you?” “My cousin,” he mouths in Jonghyun’s direction.

“Sooooooooooooooo?”

“So, what, Jeonghan?”

“Soooo does it live up to all your day dreams and on a scale of 1-10, how good of a kisser is Jonghyun?”

“WAIT, WHAT? HOW THE FUCK DO YOU KNOW?”

Pt. 4

[amralimesoti]

Musical Inspiration

In truth, Nathaniel soon came to realize that Amralime stubbed, bumped, and tripped into so many things all the time because he was an absolute airhead outside of battle or politics. It was like his mind just went to sleep or wandered away whenever he wasn't in danger - during a fight was a completely different story. Well, mostly. It was easy to tell in the beginning, that the battle mage was used to his men being able to take on hordes of enemies without much support, which Nathaniel might have been willing to take as a complement if it didn't end up with him surrounded by enemies and expected to just... Manage it. The elf had seemed almost entirely unphased when Oghren hit the ground, like he was used to the idiot running into the thick of it and getting knocked out, but when he noticed both him and Anders shortly follow suit, the look of panic on his face was almost priceless. The Howe imagined it would have been more funny if he hadn't been trying to hold close the gaping wound on his inner thigh. Admittedly, the sight that soon followed that catastrophe was one the rouge didn't think he would ever forget.

Once the Commander had understood the gravity of his error, he immediately sent out a stun on all the enemies. It was enough time for him to make a stone fist hurtle at Oghren's heavily armoured body and send it flying into Anders - crudely but successfully pushing the two out of harm's way. He then ran away from Nathaniel and, for a terrifying moment, the rouge thought the elf was about to abandon all of them. Instead, he got himself to the furthest corner of the enemies group and sent out a chain of electricity, just as they were starting to come back around. The beasts shrieked and moved in on him from all angles, leaving Nathaniel for dead on the ground and not even noticing the other two passed out Wardens off to the side of the battle. He watched on in horror, completely helpless, as the Commander took blows head on from multiple foes, all while he viciously slaughtered them around him with his staff and sword. Nathaniel suspected that it was only a combination of his healing magic, lyrium potions, and stun spells that saved their leader's life on that day. When the last enemy fell, Amralime was supporting himself on his staff and shaking knees. His clothes were covered with gaps where weapons had reached his flesh and blood trickled down his legs in steady streams and the rouge was absolutely convinced that the man was simply dead on his feet.

After a moment, where the world seemed far too quiet and Nathaniel was about ready to call out to the other man, those bright eyes seemed to reclear, as if he was just becoming aware that the fighting was now over. He looked up then, around, his eyes scanned over Anders and Oghren. Once he was satisfied with what he saw, he turned his gaze next to Nathaniel. The wound on his leg was still bleeding, he could feel the slow slick of warm fluid moving past his fingertips. It was making him light headed, but he was sure he would survive with some proper bandaging. The Commander seemed to be thinking the same thing, because his mouth went into a stubborn line and he visibly gathered up the strength he'd need to get over to him, stumbling across the bloodied floor and collapsing down to his knees before his injured comrade with a pained grunt. Close up, the elf looked even worse off then before, his skin almost proper black where the bruises were trying to steadily form, the slashes in his side and arm looking to need immediate care.

The mage ignored all of it. He opened up his pack and pulled out a very strong lyrium potion and some bandages. Drinking the contents from the bottle, he visually cringed and shivered before tossing the empty thing aside and moved his attention to the wound under Nathaniel's hand. "Let me see."

Admittedly, the Howe didn't expect to be so startled when he felt the Commanders small fingers nudge under his. The action was filled with gentleness, with care and consideration for any pain this could potentially cause him. There was barely any pain though, the nerves long since given out with shock and damage. Thus, his mind supplied, the hitch in his breath was entirely uncalled for as a soft palm brushed over the torn flesh of his sensitive inner thigh and the warm energy of a healing spell began to stitch the skin back together.

He didn't know why his throat suddenly felt so dry, but he had to swallow before he could bring it in himself to speak, finding his voice uneven as he did "You are gravely wounded as well, Commander."

Amralime looked up from his work to catch his rogue's eyes and, maybe it was mad of him to think so and he'd lost more blood than he'd thought but, he had never seen a man so tarnished by the heat of battle look so utterly... Lovely. The elf's hair was loose, unplanned strands falling around his face, the shimmering white of it was even brighter in the contrast of his dark ash skin. There was dirt on the bridge of his nose and above his brow and a few cuts and scrapes littered every part of his delicate face. A bruise was starting to form on the left side of his jaw and the skin had split on the right of his bottom lip. He was covered head to toe with both his and others blood and behind the coppery scent was that of the sweat that brought a small sheen to his complexion. His bright large eyes fluttered with surprise and Nathaniel had never really noticed how long his lashes were until now.

And then he smiled.

It was small, tired, but so very warm and sweet. His eyes had softened around the edges and looked even more dazzling with amusement and affection there to fill them. With his head tilting slightly to the side as he looked up at him, Nathaniel felt as if someone had taken every ounce of his breath away. "You're wounds come first, Nathaniel."

And some part of him was absolutely embarrassed that he wanted to hear his name on those lips again.

The song at the top makes me think of Nathaniel A LOT, especially in relations to Amralime, though much closer to the end of the game and in reference to after it ended.

There are pictures that prelude this one, but it's the first to be finished so w/e. As you can see, I've made my way to Awakening! This piece is also really inconsistent, panel to panel, because I edited all three photo's separately when I should have just done it at the same time. Alas, foolish me.

Anyway, this is depicting my very unexpected budding relations with one Nathaniel Howe. I mean, I liked the guy right away the moment he started snapping at me in his cell, he reminded me of Zevran. You know, admitting to wanting to kill me and all - it was heartwarming~ So, of course I conscripted him. I wasn't, however, expecting his rather sudden attitude change towards my Commander. I mean, I gave him a bow and we had some really nice little conversations (I absolutely abhore the dialog system in Awakening, by the way) and, out of nowhere he was all like 'Yes, of course, whatever you want, I'm here for you!' It was such a 180 I felt like Amral might have felt his head spin.

Anyway, back to the topic proper. Shortly after I gave Nate his bow (+14 approval) we got into a fight with a reasonably large amount of enemies. Of course, I didn't actually see it that way at the time, since I'd come straight out of Origins and was still on my high of battling the horde and archdemon. So, I'm all like 'Ah, this is nothing. We'll get through without breaking a sweat.' It didn't phase me when Oghren went down, he always was the first to KO since I could never rein the bastard in and heal him fast enough. However, when Anders and Nathaniel soon followed I was suddenly punched in the face with the realization that THESE ARE NOT MY BATTLE HARDENED FAMILY OH GOD NO. Needless to say, I freaked out a bit. Slightly due to the fact that Amral is just a battlemage and barely any enemies had been taken out before I was all alone.

Either way, I've always been the type to be in the center of combat (yes Oghren, I know I’m a hypocrite, but AT LEAST I NEVER DIE) taking most of the horde, so I managed to survive the encounter by the hair of my chin (ie. peachfuzz). Afterwards, Anders and Oghren only had minor injuries. Nathaniel, however, had a gaping wound. I'm heavy into the story aspects of a game, by the way, so my mind translated that as: throw some injury kits at the other two and hobble over to your injured bae and invoke some TLC despite almost being dead yourself. This was, of course, the moment I suspected Amral had earned quite the significant amount of respect from his new little archer - and probably a new found admirer because, I can't look at Nathaniel's dialog throughout the game and not think he seems reaaally fucking Bi. He just, reminds me so much of Zevran it makes me laugh. He's like the severe, grumpy, paranoid version of my lovely little assassin~♥ It was hard not to fall for the cutie.