#who can blame me!! its like the author knows exactly what buttons to hit for me specifically

[just-spacetrash]

📖

[spencersawkward]

omg i’m so glad u have a tumblr!! ur literally my fav mgg fic author ❤️ i’m a hoe for that man can u do sleeping together for the first time with like an age gap or something spicy lmao

hi omg thank you 😊 that literally means the world to me! also thank you for requesting one of my fave things to write haha i love first-time-having-sex-together tropes. happy reading! 

summary: reader is an artist who needs some inspiration, preferably from her new boyfriend.

content warnings: unprotected penetrative sex, age gap, creampie, a little breeding kink, oral (male receiving), kind of Dom!Matthew vibes, dirty talk, praise kink with a hint of degradation as well (not super prominent). 

word count: 4.4k

relationship: Fem!Reader/Matthew

masterlist

I straighten up and bend backward a bit to relieve the pressure on my spine. my hair is falling out of the knot on my head and I push a stray piece behind my ear, placing the wooden paintbrush between my teeth. aside from the warm, mellifluous tones pouring from the speakers, the apartment is silent.

I've hit a creative wall, it seems. every time I've tried to paint this week, I find myself standing above a stretched canvas with nothing but a frown and crossed arms. even little details feel wrong to add; the empty space is taunting me. it doesn't help that my thoughts have been flooded with memories and fantasies of Matthew. we've been on a couple dates now, sweet outings that leave me fluttery inside. I remember the words he says, the shape of his smile and the curve of his jaw, like they've been been in my mind forever. he's elusive, however, and hasn't initiated anything sexual with me. I think he's afraid of coming on too strong. there's a considerable age gap between us, but I don't care. I want him all the time-- whenever I'm at work, or trying to paint, all I can think of is how good it would feel to have those strong, veined hands on me.

christ.

before I can lose my courage, I text him. if anything can inspire me, it's his presence. likely, he's at work and won't be able to respond or come over, but it's worth a shot.

I'm just sliding my phone into my back pocket when the response comes in. a smile spreads over my face; he'll be over in half an hour. in the meantime, I'll sweep the background with shades that remind me of him: rich, emerald greens, honeyed tones that reminisce of his eyes. he'll pop against any backdrop.

I'm bent furiously over my work when he tells me he's arrived, and my heart thuds in my chest. even after hanging out several times, the butterflies are as alive as ever. they flood my stomach while I buzz him into the building.

"hi." he greets me when I open the door, curls messy. he must have just come from work.

"hi, Matthew." I smile up at him. his gaze travels over my face, my body, taking in my appearance for a moment.

"you look lovely." he says it genuinely, despite the fact that I'm literally wearing a paint t-shirt under a pair of rummaged overalls. I forgot to fix my hair, too.

"thanks." I blush, about to turn away when he bends down and presses a gentle kiss to my lips. it's the first time he's said hello that way, and part of me flushes with the knowledge that he's attracted to me right now.

"now," he looks around my apartment as I step back to let him in. "what can I help you with?"

"I have a small favor to ask." I spin the paintbrush between my index and third fingers, reaching out to take his wrist and pull him towards the couch.

"anything," he replies, then sees my setup. "is this your studio?"

"slash living room." I chuckle. Matthew sits on the soft cushions before staring up at me. I don't miss his pupils dilating as they travel over the shape of my body. instead of allowing myself get distracted, I gesture to the wet paint on my canvas. "I need you to model for me."

"like, be your muse?" he beams at the notion, incredibly pleased with himself. I like this about Matthew; although he can be self-deprecating and doesn't take himself too seriously, he appreciates my admiration.

"oh, hush." I giggle. he laughs, reclining on the couch now that he knows why I invited him over.

"how do you want me to pose, Picasso?"

"well, let me re-orient myself." I hold up a hand, grab the abandoned easel, and try to get everything set up. he never takes his eyes off me.

"why were you painting on the floor?" he asks, slightly amused. I jerk my head toward him, narrow my eyes.

"it's my process."

"no judgement." he holds up his hands in surrender. I place the canvas carefully on the easel so that he can't see my work, then gather up my paints, palette, and brushes. there's a moment of pure silence when I frown as I glance between his face and the chasm of space awaiting its representation.

"you look tired." I observe. he lets out a sound that resembles a laugh.

"I am."

"how long did you sleep last night?" I ask as I start painting, focusing on the shape and planes of his face. if I don't get the composition exactly correct, I'll have to throw the whole thing out.

"three hours." he says this like it's normal. my eyebrows shoot up.

"three hours? why?"

"I had to work on lines." he shrugs.

"don't move." I order. he suppresses a grin.

"my sincerest apologies."

"uh huh," I dip my brush into a pale skin shade that I've mixed to match his pigment. "you need to get more sleep."

we continue on like this for a while, making light conversation while I get down the basics of my portrait. I can't handle anything that requires more than a fraction of my attention while doing this, and he seems to appreciate my concentration.

that said, it's beyond difficult to focus when he stares at me like every movement is magical, something he wants to memorize. I feel pliable under his watch, a little bit like a doll. he could bend me every which way, ask me to do anything, and I would give in. and who could blame me?

my thoughts slip into darkened territories, and the hue of my cheeks must do the same, because he gets this mischievous smile on his face that I can't ignore.

"what are you thinking about?" he asks softly.

"hm?" I turn to him. "oh, nothing."

"really?" his brows lift in that intimidating, delightfully entertained way that sets my skin on fire.

"I..." I trail off, wondering if I should give into the chaos in my mind. the thoughts that slash through my psyche whenever I see the width of his shoulders, the fit of his shirt. "I should have asked you to pose nude."

Matthew blushes-- actually blushes-- when I say this, his head dropping momentarily as a grin takes over his features. when he lifts his gaze to mine again, there's a different look in his eyes.

"yeah?"

"mhmm." no taking it back now. "I think that would be too distracting, though."

"how so?" the corner of his mouth tugs up.

"you know why." I avert my attention, only once flitting back to him. his tongue darts out over his lips and he holds contact.

"say it." he dares me. the tone of it, slightly dominant, makes my stomach flip. quietly, I swallow the lump in my throat.

"I have trouble keeping my hands to myself."

we stare at each other, words finding and dying on tongues in the silence.

at this point, my painting has been somewhat abandoned. brushstrokes sit unaccompanied by actual structure, except for the general godly shape of his face, and I'm clenching the utensil between my fingers as if to channel the sexual tension elsewhere.

"is that right?" he notes my absolute stillness and stands up, walking toward me in a relaxed, confident gait. all I can do is look up at him when he stands before me. the top button of his shirt is undone, and I can see the smooth skin beneath, each of the other buttons awaiting my fingertips.

"yes." the word is messy. he runs his index finger over the shell of my ear, bends down, whispers so low that the phrase almost gets lost in the air.

"me too."

he plants a gentle kiss on my jaw, hand reaching tentatively to rest on my waist. I can feel the caution in his actions, the worry he has about pressuring me. I'm cognizant of every breath he takes, especially the hitch when I give into myself and kiss him.

his mouth is warm and soft. the tension twists and knots between our bodies, roiling in the empty space as we resist the energy still. but I don't want to resist. I know that I want this, and he seems to want it just as much.

"Matthew." I pull away, his teeth tugging gently on my bottom lip.

"what is it?" his eyes, dark, search mine. my pulse quickens beneath my skin.

"I want to be with you."

"you are with me." he chuckles lightly, glancing at my features. the full circles of my eyes, the bloom of pink spreading over my cheekbones.

"no," I shake my head. "I mean... I want to be with you."

"you want to have sex?" he asks, clarifying. I nod eagerly, though he frowns a bit. "are you sure?"

"do you not want to?" I try to keep the disappointment out of my face. maybe I misread the situation. the most we've done is make out on his couch and once in an Uber on the way back from our first date. but there's a sweet, burning sensation whenever I see him, something I want to dive into. I want him; I've wanted him since the moment we met.

"of course I want to," he says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. relief loosens my chest. "I just don't want you to regret anything."

"I couldn't ever regret this." my eyes travel over his frame, over the little scar beneath his chin. he angles my face up to examine my features. there's a smirk on his face.

"then what are we waiting for?" his hands move to encircle my waist, tugging me to him like I'm something long-awaited, like he needs my weight against his. our lips meet again, my head tilting as we kiss deeply, my fingers twining in his soft hair. I'm standing on my tiptoes as I do it, and one of his hands reaches down to squeeze my ass. he grunts as my pelvis moves against the quickly-forming hard-on in his pants. I can feel it against my stomach as he ruts against me just slightly. I smirk.

"sit on the couch again." I whisper when I pull away. he's holding my face with one hand, staring into my eyes with the kind of dominance that tells me he knows exactly what to do. but I appreciate that he follows my request, pulling my hips toward him as he backs up and sinks onto the cushions. he sits, awaiting my next move. when I sink onto my knees and settle between his legs, he bites hard on his lip. I don't move at first, willing to draw out this beautiful moment when he's watching with undivided attention.

"what are you doing down there, sweetheart?" he feigns innocence when I give him my doe eyes. I run slender fingers over the erection in his pants, his quickened breath an indicator of just how needy he secretly is. I revel in it.

my free hand wraps around his upper thigh, digging my nails in slightly. he's so gorgeous, and the tension of his muscles beneath me is enough to break my resistance. I start to palm him through the fabric, torturing slowly while he runs fingers through my hair and tries not to buck up against my touch. I finally get around to undoing the button on his pants. he waits impatiently. I tug them down his legs, lingering on the waistband of his boxers. when they come down as well, another kind of knot forms in my tummy. he's perfect.

"oh my god." he throws his head back when his dick hits his stomach, the pleasure of releasing it its own sensation.

"hm?" I wonder aloud, wrapping my hand around the base and starting to slowly pump him. he raises his head to look at me.

"you're just... doing so well." he breathes. I grin at how easily I've got him; I was worried about being too shy or him being more experienced, but he's greedy for me. I love the power I have right now.

I surprise him by flattening my tongue against the underside of his cock, dragging it up over the throbbing vein and pausing at the top. I let him stare at me with my mouth hovering over him, the head resting on the tip of my tongue. he moans when I begin to kitten lick the precum that leaks out, grip tightening in my hair as it comes out of the ponytail I made earlier. the veins in his arm clench as I sink slowly onto him. my cheeks hollow. his jaw drops open, dewy skin catching the light, as I start to suck on him.

"fuck..." he trails off. I begin to bob up and down, doing tricks with my tongue and swirling around the head, savoring every single second. his desperate touch, the way he bucks his hips up involuntarily when I try to take him to the hilt, all of it causes me to moan. vibrations draw out sinful noises from him as well, those heavenly sounds that he litters with my name. my hands rest on his thighs at first, then move up to rest on the warm, taut skin of his abdomen. I crave every centimeter of his skin, his contact, especially when I can feel the rushed rise and fall of his panting. I give him full use of my throat, sliding over him and moaning with every tug of my hair. he mutters profanities, praises me, struggles to keep his eyes open just to see me peek up at him from beneath my lashes. his expression tells me he's got plans for me.

"if you don't stop, I'm gonna cum, baby." he groans, smoothly tugging me off of him. there's a slight popping sound and I settle onto my knees, staring up at him. the smile on my face is unmistakable. I love that I can do this to him. I grip his legs and pull myself up into his lap, drawing myself across him just before his erection, glancing down at it. his hands rub over the tops of my thighs, tracing over the curve of my hips and resting on my ass. I start to roll my body down, my lips finding his throat as I suck and bite. my tongue licks over his Adam's apple and he shudders, drawing me closer so that my stomach brushes his cock.

"stop teasing." he starts to undo the straps of my overalls, chuckling a bit to himself as they fall easily. I blush.

"pretty sexy." I joke. Matthew suddenly grabs my chin, holds me in place so that I look him dead in the eyes.

"you're perfect." he smiles admiringly, then toys with the hem of my t-shirt. I reach down, pull it off and toss it somewhere in the room. I'm not wearing a bra, and Matthew slides his hands up my waist, ribcage, pausing just below my tits. when I grab his fingers and place them over me, his dick twitches.

"excited?" I smirk. his fingertips seem to have a mind of their own as they begin to toy with my nipples, the pad of his thumbs teasing me. I sigh, chest pushing out towards him desperately. he holds my body like he's worried I'll crumble, but also in a way that connotes a deep longing. something spilling over.

"can I take you to the bedroom?" he asks me breathlessly, one of his hands leaving my chest to stroke his own cock. the sight makes me groan helplessly while I grip his shoulders and grind against his lap. he picks up the pace for himself. "I can't wait any longer."

I nod eagerly, gasping when he stops touching himself to pull up his pants, hoist me up into his arms, and stand, carrying me with surprising ease down the hallway of my apartment. I point him to the correct room and he laughs when we get inside.

"you're messy." he laughs, although I'm not sure if he means the scattered papers around my bedroom or the whine that issues from my throat as I reach for his clothed dick while I'm pressed to him. it's sitting against my navel and I want to see his undone expressions.

I ignore the playful comment; he lays me down gingerly on the bed, straightening up to gaze at my figure before I push the rest of the overalls down my legs and cast them off. he lets out a giggle as I pout at the work I have to put into getting naked.

"stop laughing..." I blush, smiling. but I'm giggling too. he grazes the inside of my thigh, unable to keep from touching me while I discard my panties.

"I'm sorry." he laughs in a way that shows he isn't sorry at all, but the soft kiss he plants on my lips tells me it's all endearing to him. I wrinkle my nose slightly. for the first time being naked around him, I feel surprisingly comfortable. he watches me with a quiet adoration, like I've spun sugar and gold between my fingers. unable to contain myself anymore, I grab fistfuls of his shirt and undo the rest of the buttons. every second that his skin isn't against mine is a new kind of torture. it comes off easily and then the pants come off, too, until we're just staring at each other.

"do you still wanna do this?" he speaks carefully with me. I don't know where to look-- at his perfect chest, stomach, the purplish bruises already forming across his throat, or his enraptured face. it's almost overwhelming, and the waves of desire crash over me, hindering my words.

"yes," I nod. "yes, yes, yes." the word keeps falling from my lips even as he crawls on top of me, burying his nose into my collarbone and kissing feverishly. one hand supports his arm beside my head while the other reaches down to part my legs. I sigh at the cool air that's interrupted by his dick rubbing over my folds. he starts to grind down, drawing out every second of foreplay while I try to catch my breath. my eyes tilt to the ceiling, fluttering shut. I bask in every sensation. his warmth, his weight, all of it presses down.

"do we need a condom?" he asks softly, his cock throbbing against my center.

"birth control." I shake my head. he nods against my skin, allows me to tangle my fingers in his curls. "I'm clean."

"me too." I reply. he grabs my hip and yanks it towards him, pulling his chest away to straighten while he lines himself up at my entrance. he's concentrating on the place where our bodies meet, eyes full of lust when they peek up at mine.

"tell me if you need me to stop." he says softly.

"okay." I can't think of anything else. every cell of my existence is consumed with thoughts of impatience, and when he slides into me, my thighs tense and my mouth drops open.

"Matthew... oh my god." my voice is more like a mewl, in shock as my walls squeeze around him like they're trying to reject the sudden pressure between my legs. his jaw clenches, sinking into me until he reaches about halfway.

he lets out a surprising groan, leans down to kiss my shoulder as he finds a sweet spot. our chests are pressed together and, judging by the way he wraps an arm around my waist and lifts my torso to his, he likes the feeling.

we stay there a moment, him trying not to hurt me. but then I lift my pelvis up, trying to take more, and he inhales sharply.

"do something," I beg him quietly. "please."

I feel his lips curl into a smile and he pulls his face up to see my expressions. his hips push forward, my body sliding up the bed with the force. he watches my eyes roll back, my ribcage expand, my face overcome by pleasure. his gaze is unrelenting with lips slightly parted as he begins to thrust in and out of me.

I'm already a panting, moaning mess beneath him. he touches his nose to mine, swallowing each other's breaths while he moves.

"is this how you want it, baby?" he smirks, getting lost in his own lust. I nod and he gently turns my face to his. "tell me what you want."

"more." I sigh, hips again raising to meet the thrusts that are growing more forceful each time. my nails drag up his back, the nape of his neck, tangling in his hair and tugging at the ends. he sinks his teeth into my neck lightly and moans. I wrap my legs around his torso.

"such a pretty girl..." he growls in my ear. his grip on the sheets tightens when I clench myself around him, drawing him impossibly closer to my core. I can't help the helpless moans spilling out of me. I'm insatiable right now, scratching at his shoulders until I'm sure I'll leave red marks. he groans lasciviously at the clawing, ramming into me with an unrelenting voracity.

"oh my god," I yelp, back arching as he hits my g-spot. "right there, Matthew." my pleas fall on receptive ears: he holds me tighter to his chest and pounds into me.

"you like getting fucked by older men?" he whispers dirty things in my ear and I nod quickly, hardly able to speak through the ungodly sounds escaping my mouth. I cling to him and he lets me, treating every limb like it belongs to him.

"yes-- fuck, yes." I moan, almost sliding out of his grip from how hard he goes.

"you can take it," he breathes out, fingertips digging into my ribs while he holds me up. he's leaving marks that won't go away for a while, remnants of the full power of his desire. I want more, writhing and using my limited mobility to grind against him. he chuckles darkly over my skin. "look at you."

"Matthew, I'm gonna--" I gasp when he slams into me particularly hard. "I'm gonna cum."

"good." he shudders slightly, that attitude showing again. he reaches his hand up a moment to run through my hair. "cum on me, princess."

my lips part and I try to gulp down air, but it's impossible with the way he's holding my attention. the thing about Matthew is that he's so sweet and gentle that whenever he looks at me like I'm a plaything, it shocks my insides. they turn to jelly, eager to please and quick to satisfy. he switches so easily with me, and he doesn't even need to request my submission. I give it more than willingly.

"fuck me..." I pant out, feeling my pussy start to clench over and over around him. my orgasm fuzzies the edges of my vision, creeping up my spine until it's arched. "oh fuck-- Matthew!" I practically scream while my frame gives out. I'm shuddering, crying out at the absolute euphoria wracking my body.

"scream my name, baby." he groans, his own orgasms approaching quickly. the fluttering of my cunt around him is causing the vein in his forehead to throb. he rocks into me, the headboard knocking into the wall while he nears the edge. "such a good girl for me."

I nod and meet his thrusts with my hips while I ride out my orgasm, inadvertently finding myself wound up again. the pleasure of his fingers when they reach between our bodies to rub my clit causes me to buck into him, whining mercifully while he gets me off again.

"oh--" he sucks in a breath when I squeeze, keeping him here with me. "you feel so good."

he starts to lose control, hips juddering to get as deep as he can get.

"can I fill you up, baby?"

"yes." I reply immediately. he smiles a little, lifting me up more so that he can hold me under my ass while he pounds into me so deeply, I can feel his dick brushing my cervix.

"oh my god," he moans, the sound desperate as I feel him twitch and spill inside of me. he keeps pushing as though to keep his cum within me, panting over my skin. "such a tight little cunt."  

the circles on my clit, combined with the sinful things he continues to say, cause me to whimper and climax all over again. I moan his name, absorbed in the warmth of his seed in my stomach.

"you want more?" he slows his thrusts but pleasures me through my orgasm while I nod helplessly.

"I'll cum in you again tonight." he promises, taking my shaking, weak form as a sign to withdraw. both of us wince at the sensitivity until he lays me back down on the bed so gently, it makes me question if what we just did was real.

neither of us speaks for a moment, trying to regain our composure as he rolls down onto the mattress beside me. I stare up at the ceiling, feeling him drip between my thighs.

"that was..." he turns his head to gauge my reaction. I don't even bother to hide the satisfied grin on my face.

"amazing."

"yeah?" he rolls over onto his side and places one large hand on my stomach. his touch makes me bloom.

"mhmm." I hum. his face is covered in a thin sheen of sweat, a beautiful sight that makes me want to kiss him all over again. I didn't know it was possible to feel this way for someone so quickly.

"can I get you anything?" he smiles. I don't say anything at first, only reach out to cup his face in my hands and pull him to me for a chaste peck.

"no, thank you." I rub my nose with his. "I'm gonna take a shower and make something to eat if you want to join me."

"definitely." he examines my features once more as if to assess damage. but there's only pure joy painted across my face. "are you sure I didn't go too hard on you?"

"you can go harder tonight." I tease.

"what about your painting?" he suddenly recalls the project lying in the living room.

"rain check." I shrug. he laughs, wraps an arm around my waist.

"alright, then."

[wonda-cat]

You mentioned rewriting that one analysis post on Tommy’s revival stream and I’d really look forward to it! I never got to read the full og post and that’s the only place I saw these takes. Especially the one about the afterlife being too depressing. It’s not even just about Tommy, the implication that even if every character is safe and happy by the end, this is their inevitable fate is messed up. It’s not “a neat subversion” it’s just depressing and doesn’t add anything.

Hey, anon!

I sorta decided to not rewrite it? I feel a bit differently about the essay in the end, although I still believe in most of my points. I’m also just not nearly as passionate about it as I was when I wrote it (I finished it in a single sitting, which was... interesting.) However, yes, the afterlife stuff still bothers me just the same, as well as the odd changes to Wilbur’s characterization... post mortem.

But—just for you, anon—here’s the entire meta-analysis essay anyway, with some minor edits to the stuff I don’t agree with anymore!

My Many Narrative Issues with Tommyinnit’s Revival Stream

I want to preface this by saying that I dearly love the Dream SMP and understand it isn’t exactly comparable to other mediums like TV and film. With this being the case, most criticism against it is generally in bad faith or strange in foundation. Complaining about streamers for bad acting is the best example that comes to mind. 

These aren’t professional actors. Most have never acted in this sort of setting, or even at all. Quite a few have admitted to never roleplaying before. Which is why it’s warranted to praise Tommy, Dream, Wilbur, Ranboo, and others when they deliver stellar performances. The same applies to criticism of music choice, dialogue delivery, focus, tone, etc. 

However, one such category I cannot overlook is in regards to its writing. The writing of a story is its entire foundation. It encompasses many things—conflict choice, character development, themes, and morals. The author creates the blueprints for the architect, who then expresses the story with light, sound, color, pacing, and music. It is in its execution that we see if this connection is made or broken. 

The reason I find poor writing mostly inexcusable is because it is one of the most available skills to practice and perfect. I don’t mean to say that it’s easy, I mean to say it is something anyone can attempt to cultivate. Whether they do it well or not depends on their methods and experience. If anyone can self-publish a novel and be criticized online for its quality—and even compared to the works of Mark Twain—then I find critiquing the writing of the Dream SMP to be perfectly reasonable. 

However, since the Dream SMP script is a set of loose bullet points, tearing apart dialogue and scene continuity—which is nearly all improv—is rather useless. It doesn’t exactly have a clear focus as the plot plays out. The characters talk in circles until they hit the story beat required, and then they move onto the next. Thus, when criticizing it, one should generally critique grand events and narrative-specific shifts, more so than small-scale character interactions. 

Which brings me to my main point: The broad narrative choices taken in Tommyinnit’s most recent livestream, ‘Am I dead?’ may lead to disastrous writing pitfalls in the future. 

I’ll be outlining each of my issues below, in hopes of creating a better understanding as to why I feel this way. 

This might become quite lengthy, so please bear with me for a bit.

Tommy’s relationship to Wilbur has flipped. This change is jarring and seems out of character.

Tommy and Wilbur’s friendship is rather complicated. While Wilbur does care for Tommy immensely, especially during the L’Manburg Revolution and the Election Arc, his mental spiral during exile put a massive strain on their relationship as a whole. Wilbur brushed off Tommy’s feelings and wants, while clinging to him and pushing everyone else away. He was simultaneously distant and suffocating. 

Tommy, on the other hand, has an unclear view of his mentor. Since the beginning, and even long after Wilbur’s death, Tommy held him in especially high regard. He saw him as a brother-figure and a wise leader. He followed what he said and did everything he could to impress him. Yet, Wilbur still hurt him while the two were together in exile. 

When speaking of him, Tommy tends to flip infrequently between remembering Wilbur the way he was before his mental decline and thinking of him as a monster. Both of these images conflict with each other, but they weren’t nearly as extreme as what Tommy described Wilbur as when he was revived from death. The fear Tommy displays to Wilbur is beyond intense—it feels as if the audience may have missed a month’s worth of character development. 

This can make sense, especially since it was stated that he’d spent what felt like two months in the void. However, this shift is still deeply at odds with Tommy’s previous impressions of Wilbur, which is both disheartening and confusing. The fact that Tommy would agree to stay with Dream—his abuser and murderer—over his past mentor is simply head-reeling. It paints a very different picture of Wilbur’s character, somewhat conforming to the fandom’s ableist impression of him—the idea that Wilbur is insane and irredeemable, and always will be. 

It also ignores Dream being the driving factor in Wilbur’s downfall, as well as the double-bind deal with Dream which required him to push the button, no matter the outcome. Others have pointed out that Tommy may be lying to get Dream to bring Wilbur back, and there’s compelling evidence for that. For one, Tommy and Wilbur’s conversation seemed uncomfortable, but it was certainly nothing like Tommy implied. (Unless this fear comes from something Wilbur said off-screen.) 

Tommy also begged Dream to not bring him back multiple times over, which he should know would make Dream even more tempted to, simply because he likes seeing Tommy in pain. Tommy is also a known unreliable narrator. He may be making Wilbur out to be worse than he is by accident (even still, I’d argue this is a bit of a stretch.) 

However, there are some issues with this theory. Tommy offered himself as payment to Dream if he chose to let Wilbur rest. This is a deal Tommy knows Dream is extremely unlikely to refuse. Tommy is what Dream has coveted all this time. If Tommy genuinely wanted Wilbur back, he would not offer this. This sort of compromise is Tommy’s greatest nightmare—something he would only do in response to his friends being threatened or his home being destroyed. 

To add, Tommy is not great at lying. Unless he was taught by Wilbur for those two months* in the afterlife, there’s no chance Tommy would be this good at it. Thirdly, Tommy is terrible under pressure. He uses humor to cope. When he can’t, he cries and shouts and spills his heart out. While cornered, Tommy will tell the truth about anything, especially if Dream casually debates killing him again, just for fun. 

For now, it’s too early to tell how the relationship shift will play out. In the grand scheme of things, this issue is rather minor.

Season three’s writing is needlessly bleak. The portrayal of the afterlife is a nightmare. There is no rest, not even in death.

I adore the Dream SMP storyline in its entirety. I believe the first season is fantastic, and while the second season has some narrative clarity issues, I enjoyed it just as much. Although, I would argue season one had a more concrete understanding of its Hope-Conflict balance. 

To briefly explain, the Hope in stories are its ‘highs’ and good moments. These appear when a character the audience is rooting for is narratively rewarded. They happen during character building in the text—it’s the downtime and peace that allows for connection and relatability. It’s a moment for the viewer to breathe easy. 

The other half is Conflict, an obstacle in the story that gets in the way of the main characters’ goals, beliefs, and motives. These are the ‘lows.’ They give the narrative focus and weight. They make the highs feel even higher. They establish consequences and force the characters in the story to change in order to adapt and overcome them. 

I bring up the Hope-Conflict balance because a traditional hero’s journey would have an appropriate amount of both. Their highs and lows are generally equalized, as the name suggests. However, this balance has been awkwardly skewed in the latter half of season two and in the current plot of season three. To clarify, it is perfectly reasonable, and even common, for some stories to tip the scale more to one side. 

But a common mistake for amateur writers is to create their stories as either hopelessly dark to cause the audience continuous distress for the sake of distress, or to keep everything entirely conflict-free for most of the plot. What do these both have in common? They each make the story boring and predictable. 

Season three has taken this concept and thrown a monstrously heavy weight onto the Conflict side and flipped the scale so hard it has crashed through the ceiling. The viewers are hardly given time to find any joy in Tommy’s character, as he’s thrown into yet another abusive situation, just barely after his first narrative reward. The world is painted as relentlessly violent and traumatic. 

Every person Tommy meets is morally grey, unhinged, or out to hurt him. Everything most of the characters love is taken from them by those in positions of power. Ranboo cannot even grieve properly because it scars his face. Puffy, Sam, Ranboo, and Tubbo all blame themselves for what happened to Tommy. 

The audience watches lore stream after lore stream with the same depressing tone (with the exception of Tubbo’s, but I assume that’s unintentional.) Tommy is revived after being brutally beaten to death by his abuser, surrounded by all of his greatest fears. The afterlife is revealed to be akin to inescapable torture. It’s a colorless void that wraps the individual like fabric. 

Time moves thirty times slower within. There’s nothing—nothing but the voices of others who’ve passed on before him. Dying in a world already devoid of happiness takes the characters to a place worse than hell. When a narrative delivers unfair suffering to the entire cast without a moment of joy to speak of, the story will feel simultaneously overwhelming and pointless. 

Why watch characters suffer when there’s no light at the end of the tunnel? What happiness could they strive for when we know they’ll never get to keep it? How can I be satisfied with a good ending, if I know that an afterlife too terrible to name is what awaits them, truly, at the end of their story? Death isn’t even a white void that offers rest—it is eternal torment. 

Obviously, it isn’t a good message to send by making the afterlife seem like a quiet, perfect place or an escape from pain. But making it an unspeakable anguish which awaits, assumedly, every character who will die in the future? I deeply hope Tommy was only being an extremely unreliable narrator. 

More likely, I hope the place Tommy was taken to was a Limbo of sorts, not an end-all-be-all destination for everyone.

The degree of Tommy’s narrative punishment continues to escalate, to an almost absurd degree.

Tommy is one of the most tragic characters to exist in the storyline. He was sent into war at a young age and experienced two traumatic events during it. He was exiled by the newly elected leader and witnessed his mentor Wilbur spiral and break down with paranoia. Tubbo is executed publicly in front of him. When expressing rightful anger at the person who murdered him, he’s beaten nearly to death and never receives an apology. 

Schlatt dies right in front of Tommy, after his initial refusal to hurt the ex-president. His brother-figure and mentor is killed in assisted suicide on the same day his nation is blown up. His best friend exiles him from his home for the second time. He routinely self-sacrifices to protect his country and those who live there. His most treasured possessions were taken from him and he was called selfish for trying to retrieve them (although his methods were self-destructive and volatile.) 

He was pushed to the brink of suicide after being relentlessly abused and isolated in his exile. He was horrified when he thought he was responsible for drowning Fundy. After making an objectively good decision to stand by his old friends and change for the better, his country was obliterated by the man he once idolized, his father-figure, and his abuser. 

He was left scattered and without purpose for many days. Then he fights against Dream and loses, while also reliving his trauma. He watches Tubbo almost die at the hands of someone he once thought was his friend. He doesn’t tell a single person about what happened to him in exile. The day he tries to sever his connection to Dream and heal, he’s trapped with him for a week, surrounded by everything that terrifies him. 

He threatens to kill himself, speaking about his own life as if it were an object—something to hold over Dream’s head. He blames himself for everything bad that’s ever happened to L’Manburg and his friends—internalizing a mentality as a scapegoat for everyone around him. He is forced into the role of ‘hero’ despite the title being unfair and distressing to him.

As if that weren’t enough, he’s then beaten to death by his abuser and spends what feels like two months in an afterlife that is worse than hell. When he returns, his senses are excessively heightened. Dream can cause him excruciating pain, just by pinching him. He can send Tommy into an instant panic attack, just by raising his voice. 

The punishment Tommy’s character receives is a thousand times worse than everyone he has ever met, or ever will meet. And it shows no signs of stopping, as Dream now has control over Tommy’s very mortality. Tommy now fears the slightest damage and feels as if he’s losing his best friend all over again. He is also forced into a position where he has to kill Dream out of necessity, to protect everyone he cares about.

Characters need fitting punishments in relation to their actions. Not always, but in order to be satisfying? Yes, they do. It is preferred that a main character deal with unfair situations and difficult conflicts, but this is borderline torture p*rn. Putting Tommy in these distressing and abusive situations on repeat and punishing him for doing objectively moral or healthy things is exhausting to watch. 

To quickly add, I find the general insinuation of Tommy going to hell distasteful, especially considering the contents of his storyline. I know this may be hard to believe, but Tommy is one of the most moral characters in the plot, besides Puffy and Ghostbur. He’s also the only character, followed by Ranboo, to recognize that they can be wrong and make mistakes. He changed himself in order to heal and be a better person. He was in the process of paying people back for the things he’d stolen. 

He’s learned to be hard-working and less violent through the guidance of Sam. He has apologized to everyone he’s ever hurt (with the exception of Jack Manifold, because that man is allergic to communication.) He puts himself in harm's way to protect others. He doesn’t set out to purposely hurt anyone. He goes out of his way to make connections with people and maintain them, even if others don’t reciprocate. 

He’s hopelessly optimistic, despite his outwardly bitter façade. He loved so much and put meaning into the smallest things. The thought that a person like him—a suicide and abuse survivor—would go to hell after being beaten to death by the man who took everything from him; it makes me sick to my stomach. 

The only thing more morbid than Tommy’s afterlife being different than everyone else’s, is the concept that everyone will end up in this same eternal torture, no matter what they do. Take your pick: Tommy is sentenced to anguish until the end of time for no reason, or everyone will receive the same disturbing ending, regardless of their actions.

The narrative weight of Ranboo’s character is potentially out the window.

For the past few months, I’ve watched all of Ranboo’s lore streams faithfully, curious to see what role he would play in the future. His ‘hallucinations’ of Dream seemed to be sowing the seeds for a plot that has Ranboo taking the fall for every single insidious thing Dream has done. It would also be a tragic parallel to Tommy’s trial. 

Ranboo being convinced he was the one who blew up the community house, when Dream himself admitted to doing it, was one of the bigger indicators for me. This is just one of many other unexplained occurrences. Dream seemed to be making an effort to trigger and control Ranboo, especially after Sapnap’s prison visit. It appeared, from the way he went about this, that Dream had some grand use for Ranboo as part of his plan to be freed from Pandora’s Vault. 

However, after Tommy’s stream, the way Dream explains himself makes it seem like there was no plan besides seeing if the book worked on people. And if he didn’t after all, then what was Ranboo for? Was Ranboo unimportant? Was Ranboo just some weirdo who happened to phase out when seeing smiley faces and imagined conversations that may or may not have happened? 

I bring this up more as a worry, and much less so as an active problem in the narrative. They haven’t actually thrown Ranboo to the way-side or written themselves into a corner yet. In future streams, this could very easily be explained away or developed as more information is revealed. 

Only time will tell.

The potential for Wilbur’s future development and importance to the plot is unfeasible.

I feel as if I am the only person on earth who doesn’t want Wilbur Soot or Schlatt revived. There are many reasons for this, but one of them is not a dislike for these characters. I especially adore Wilbur, as he’s one of my all-time favorites. I don’t want either of them resurrected because their stories have already been told. They each had a fitting conclusion that ended their involvement perfectly. 

Bringing Wilbur back would especially cheapen the impact of the War of the 16th. It’s the end of a man who was brought to the absolute edge and out of desperation, shame, and self-hatred, he destroyed himself alongside his creation. Bringing him back would leave the climax of the previous story hollow. My biggest issue, however, is that a lack of story importance would likely follow his return. 

The only real impact I’d like to see is through a healing arc with Tommy, an apology to Fundy, or a confrontation with Phil/Niki. But that’s really all the potential I can realistically see. While I don’t doubt Wilbur as an agent of chaos, able to create plot out of thin air; what is he going to do now? His country is gone, his friends and family are scattered about, and his mission from the 16th is already accomplished. 

What is a well-educated, charismatic politician supposed to do in a world already broken and without nations? Read poetry to himself and cry evilly? However, this is working off the assumption that Wilbur would be returning as his old self. 

If Wilbur is resurrected as a ‘villain’ of sorts, then what? He’s not good at fighting in the slightest. He would have no materials. There are no real allies he can make, other than the arctic group. On top of that, there are already more than enough villains to last a lifetime. 

We don’t need any more, I promise. Quackity seems to already be shaping up as another antagonist, alongside Sam’s slip into darker and darker shades of moral ambiguity. We also have Philza and Techno, which are already overkill. But then we have Dream who, despite being in a prison, has the ability of selective revival. This is mercilessly overpowered, especially if he makes many allies. The dude could just bring his dead friends back so they can keep fighting forever. 

Then there’s Jack Manifold and the Crimson followers; Antfrost, Bad, and Punz. That’s not even including characters who are refusing to get involved. How are Tommy, Tubbo, and Puffy expected to do literally anything to fight back?

Dream’s experiment on Tommy implies he had no backup plan to begin with. This makes his character seem both short-sighted and foolish.

When Tommy woke up after being brought back to life, Dream sounded surprised that the revival worked at all. This instantly shatters the perception that Dream was highly intelligent and thought ahead. With just a few lines of dialogue, it’s implied that Dream killed Tommy, unsure of if the resurrection would even be possible on humans. 

Which, to risk something that important, seems unbelievably stupid. Dream needs Tommy, from his perspective. Tommy is his ‘toy,’ the one who makes everything fun. If he lost him and couldn’t get him back, what then? Oh well, everything Dream was doing was all for nothing, I guess. 

Why not attempt this experiment on literally anyone else first? Like Sapnap or Bad or, hell, even Ranboo. I suppose it could be that, as soon as Dream got the book, he experimented with it after the 16th. This appears to be insinuated with Friend and Hendry’s revival, although this is uncertain. But even then, he was still unsure of the book’s effect on a human being.

Also, this means, hypothetically, Dream’s entire plan of escape hinged on the experiment working, to begin with, and also on bringing back Wilbur if it somehow did. I find this even more ridiculous. Why Wilbur? That man couldn’t find his way out of a paper bag, let alone get through the traps in Pandora’s Vault. Even if he is intelligent after years* in the afterlife, that’s also a strange assumption. 

How do people learn things in the void? Where do they even get this knowledge? I’d honestly argue Techno is a far more competent choice than Wilbur. And even if Dream did bring him back and tell him he owed him his life, what’s to stop Wilbur from just killing him permanently? Or killing himself, continuously? 

No way would Wilbur want to be controlled by anyone, ever. The dude would sooner fuck off into the mountains and become a nomad than help a neon green bodysuit cosplay as Light Yagami.

Dream’s discussion about Sam implies that he wasn't playing any part in Dream’s plan, making Sam appear entirely incompetent and neglectful of Tommy.

Dream talked about Sam in a way that seems detached and unaffiliated. He also mentioned him being broken up about Tommy’s fate and not being aware he’s still alive. Dream not being partnered with, or not using Sam in his plan leaves many plot holes. I’ll go through each one. The initial incident was an explosion, coming from the roof of Pandora’s Vault. This did not affect the Redstone mechanism for the doors or dispensers. 

Meaning, Sam could’ve had Tommy leave the way that was expected for visitors after he investigated and found no issues. This likely couldn’t have been done in less than a day, but it would be better than an entire week. If Tommy was required to stay for longer, due to protocol, he could’ve gotten Tommy out and then placed him in one of the minor cells for the remainder of the time. 

Also, no one else lost a canon life for leaving via the splash potion of harming and returning outside the maximum-security cell; why would Tommy? To add, Sam being uninvolved means that the explosion could have only been caused by Ranboo or Foolish. That, or it was placed long before and timed for the moment Tommy entered the main cell. (I’m going to ignore how ludicrous it is that someone would know the exact time Tommy would’ve entered the room with Dream.) 

If Ranboo was the person behind the detonation, this implies he was necessary for Dream to kill Tommy to test the book. But that makes it even stranger. If this was Dream’s goal all along, why not kill Tommy the instant he was trapped with him? It makes no sense for him to wait so long. 

Sam is also directly at fault for not letting Tommy out, even after the week was up. There was no reason not to. He already knew there were no issues with the prison at that point. Although, to be fair to Sam, his character may have been paranoid and checking everything more than necessary, just in case. But this still isn’t a good excuse for him ignoring protocol in this one instance, and yet, not in any of the others. 

All of these plot holes or inconsistencies would be removed if it was revealed that Dream was blackmailing Sam in some way, or Sam had been working with him since the get-go. That Sam was the person who set off the explosion in the first place to trap Tommy inside. It would also explain Sam’s refusal to let Tommy out and by keeping him in there for longer than necessary. 

This can also coexist with Sam’s attachment and care for Tommy. He probably wasn’t told about Dream’s plan to test the book and genuinely believed Dream wouldn’t hurt him. On top of that, Dream is known to be a pathological liar, so his statements about Ranboo and Sam could be entire fabrications. 

Who knows?

The Book of Revival invalidates death entirely. The narrative now lacks both tension and consequence.

Another way the Dream SMP differs from other storytelling media is in the way it goes about its character deaths. In a TV show, for example, there will be characters who die just because, or when it’s important to the plot. However, it seems as if the Dream SMP is hesitant to commit to killing its characters. And there are many reasons for that. 

The most important one being, killing someone’s character excludes them from the story and some of their livelihoods depend on them regularly streaming on the server. There is also the issue of the cast becoming extremely sparse if characters keep dying. Typically, in stories, when you kill a character, you should introduce another. 

This keeps the cast from dwindling as the storyline goes on. This means the writers would have to find new streamers to join, who will develop their own characters and relationships with the plot’s continued momentum. This can be stressful and daunting to those who may be newly added in the future. 

Keeping this in mind, the Book of Revival is annoying from a writer’s perspective. When death is no longer an issue for a story hinged on its characters’ mortality, then what do you have as a consequence anymore? We’ve explored every kind under the sun; from abuse, to betrayal, to loss, to destruction. 

In stories, traditionally, death is a finality. It’s a conclusion. Whether it’s good or not depends on the character’s actions, its build-up, and the event’s execution. Without this lingering sense of danger, tension evaporates from the story. 

Why should I care if Tommy loses in a fight to someone, if he’ll just come back a day later? Why should I care about what happened to Wilbur, if he just returns as if nothing happened? The answer is simple: I won’t. I will no longer care if Tubbo or Ranboo or Sam die in the story, because the idea of revival even being a possible outcome leaves me unenthused and uncaring. 

The Dream SMP likes to flirt with death. It teases the demise of its main characters many, many times. More so Tommy’s than anyone else’s. Wilbur’s failed resurrection, which had unforeseen and unfortunate outcomes, is now strange in comparison to Tommy’s, which happened without a hitch. 

To be fair, we actually don’t see how many attempts it took. But here’s the problem; Dream could do it without the book being physically present. He’s trapped in a prison with nothing on him, meaning he doesn’t need any materials either. It’s also implied he could do this as many times as he feels, for anyone he wants. This would be exceedingly overpowered, if not for one thing—Dream himself is mortal (at least, I fucking hope he’s mortal.) 

If someone kills him one last time, that knowledge is gone forever. And I’m glad they’ve established at least some way for Tommy to win. Because at this point, I was losing faith. 

There is also the bare minimum establishment that Dream can refuse to bring back those he doesn’t care for. He can also use it as a shield, holding this power over other people. If Dream is gone, death is permanent. But isn’t that how death is supposed to be, anyway? 

What a bleak premise—the afterlife is pure eternal torture while life is cheapened by a lack of consequences.

Conclusion

All this to say, I am cautiously optimistic for the future. I hope dearly that every single one of these can be disproven or developed in the coming livestreams. Obviously, there’s not enough information to really determine what the end result will be, or how everything will fall into place. 

Every time I have theorized about the story, it has done something completely different and pleasantly surprised me. I want this trend to continue. 

Surprise me again—I’ll be here to see where it goes.

[wearetakingthehobbitstogallifrey]

Kdrama recs Part 1

Hullo and welcome to the kdrama life @camsthisky​! The following list is not in any particular order, other than the fact that I start with a more rom/com vibe and head toward more romantic/action or action. All the following kdramas are set in the modern day, and part 2 of my recs for you will be either darker kdramas set in present day or historical dramas.

Let the list begin!

1. Strong Woman Do Bong Soon: 

Do Bong Soon is a v smol woman who has super strength and who wants 1. To create her own video game 2. Get her police officer crush to return her affections. Which like, police officer is kinda cute but he ain’t that special. Bong Soon winds up becoming a bodyguard to Ahn Min Hyuk, the extremely rich, kinda spoiled, ridiculously extra CEO of a gaming company who does not like the police for secret reasons, and sadly does not have a good relationship with his family. (He a lonely boy underneath everything.) Min Hyuk finds out about Bong Soon’s powers, is in TOTAL awe of her, offers to train her in fighting, and literally falls head over heels for her.

The caveat with this show is there is a subplot or two that annoy me, BUT I just use the 10 second skip button and it is totally worth it because the romance is super cute—SUPER CUTE (also I have a list of favorite actors and Park Hyung Sik is def on it—one minute he is an adorkable, blushing bby the next he can be intense and sad)

He cute

2. Her Private Life: 

Hello fake-dating!! Ryan Gold (an adoptee who didn’t live in Korea for a while) is a former artist who stopped painting because he couldn’t deal with his Stendhol (?) syndrome (among other traumas). Deok Mi is the classy art curator of a famous museum who definitely does not have any secrets she wants to keep from the world—well, other than the fact that she is the number one fangirl of kpop idol, Cha Shi-an (who also appreciates art) and has a major crush on him. Ryan becomes director of the art museum and there is a whole thing with getting Shi-an involved in an art show.

Following this and a series of unfortunate events a false rumor starts that Deok Mi and and Shi-an ARE dating. It’s a little complicated to summarize, but basically what you need to know is that Ryan and Deok Mi become a fake couple so there won’t be a scandal for Shi-an or violence done to Deok Mi by rabid fangirls. I enjoy the fake-dating trope a lot, and how it becomes real for both of them! The leads are played by Kim Jae Wook and Park Min Young, who both have incredible range. Lots of soft moments in this one! Good kisses, a scene where the faves bake together, and also Ryan wears a lot of deep v-neck shirts and jackets which is an attack on me personally.

The show also contains a bit of angst, which I LOVE. Hand-holding becomes an important theme 😊

RYAN NO

3. Crash Landing on You: Rich South Korean heiress/fashion designer Se-ri accidentally winds up in a North Korean village, and really REALLY wants to go home. Mostly because there are no scented candles or spa-like bathtubs in the vicinity, but also because she could easily disappear into a NK jail and never return. A North Korean captain named Ri Jeong Hyeok finds her and decides not to turn her because, one, he’s a good guy who doesn’t want to turn an innocent person over to what might be her death, and two, turning her over might get his four underlings in trouble for reasons. Said underlings are his family, basically, and they are a deLIGHT. One is an argumentative proud sort who likes to drink and to feel important and who tries to provoke (and gets provoked by) Se-ri at every opportunity, one is a lover of banned South Korean dramas, one is a 17 year old bby who misses his mom, and one is the silent but most loyal follower of the captain. 

Besides all these people, there are two other characters (including a surprisingly wise conman) who become faves and major players in the plot.

There is a great mix of humor, romance, found family, and angst, and I love it very much. A few things don’t go the way I want them to near the end, but a bit of imagination and fanfic can fix anything 

ALSO I FORGOT THE CAPTAIN GETS SUPER SULKY FROM TIME TO TIME AND IT IS HILARIOUS

Show of hands, who thinks they will meet again

4. Are You Human Too: A FAVORITE SHOW OF ALL! TIME!

What do you do when your husband dies and your evil mega-rich father-in-law takes your son away from you and keeps you from seeing him ever? Well, if you are scientist with more genius than positive coping methods, you build yourself a robot son who looks exactly like your real son. Great solution, am I right?

Nam Shin III is the name of my favorite robot son, played by the inestimable Seo Kang Joon. He is the purest bby you will ever meet, being designed so that he never lies and so that he will immediately go to hug anyone who cries. He seems quite a contrast to the bitter human Nam Shin, who hates his gilded prison life, hates his Grandpa, and tries to sneak away from his right hand man, Secretary Ji Young Hoon, his only friend in the world. The girl in the show is Kang So Bong, an ex-UFC fighter who was so badly injured she had to quit. She is at first a bit jaded and mercenary because of her past, but she has a golden heart that just needs to be reminded of its existence.

Not going into details to avoid spoilers, but everything upends when the robot Nam Shin has to take the place of the human Nam Shin. The show is a soft, funny, angsty exploration of what it means to be human, with some good found family throughout. The character development is phenomenal, and the connection between So Bong and Nam Shin III is *chef’s kiss*. I just want to give a shout out to Seo Kang Joon who plays a duel role like you wouldn’t believe, to SKJ’s smile, to the soundtrack, and to the character of Young Hoon, a loyal, steady, and self-sacrificing secretary that we do not deserve  (gosh tho he looks good in blue!)

Look at my robot son getting a long-looked for affirmation! (his lil smile!!!

5. W: Two Worlds: 

This show unique because it  meta as HELL! Oh Yeon Joo is a junior doctor and the daughter of a webtoon artist whose big hit, W, is coming to a close. Much to her surprise, she gets pulled into the world of the comic where she encounters and saves the main character, Kang Chul, a former Olympic shooting champion who was blamed for the murder of his entire family, and whose sole desire is to find the real killer. It’s a good romance between them, and I also love Kang Chul’s relationship with his hyung, which, tho it is not always a main focus, is present and wonderful. Kang Chul himself is both intelligent and adorably bratty, charismatic and angsty, soft and fierce, and he is one of my favorite kdrama characters for sure.

As for the meta, the show does a fantastic job exploring the rules of the comic world, of how one can enter and leave, the importance and power of main characters and supporting characters, and the purpose of an author. There is always another twist coming, and it is just so much fun!

UM SIR PLS POINT THAT ELSEWHERE

6. Healer: 

I watched half this show and never realized that the female lead is played by Park Min Young, same actress as in Her Private Life. Someone had to tell me lol! She’s just so good at playing different people. In this show, she is Chae Young Shin, a reporter for a celebrity tabloid who has big dreams of becoming a famous reporter who investigates stories that actually mean something. She is a bit quirky, very cute, very brave, and probably one of my favorite female leads. She lives with her dad above his coffee/teashop bakery and is friends with all the ex-cons he has defended while doing his other job of lawyering.

Anyway this show is more of a romantic/action drama. To get an idea of the titular Healer, picture what you would get if you took some of Batman and Nightwing’s aesthetics (wearing black, hanging out on rooftops, punching people, flipping around, etc) and put them into a night courier who likes to watch National Geographic and dream about one day going off to an island where he can live all by himself for the rest of his days because oh yeah he is a loner whose only friend is an older woman who sets up his jobs and whom he has never actually met.

There is also an older reporter that Young Shin looks up to, the fun tabloid office where she works, a heck lot of mystery surrounding some tragedy involving a group of reporter best friends/found family back in the 80’s/90’s, and of course both members of the OTP have childhood trauma that has made them who they are today. One of my favorite things that happens in the show is that Healer has to go undercover for a while, Clark Kenting it up in Young Shin’s tabloid office, which overnight becomes a real news agency for reasons.

The action is LOTS of fun, and the romance is really soft and cute, and better still, when there is a misunderstanding or something that gets in their way, they almost immediately talk about it and resolve issues. They TRUST each other and give the benefit of the doubt where many tv couples would break up or get in big fights. I find it (plus the character development) very refreshing.

I couldn’t find a gif of my favorite fight sadly. This will have to do

7. Lawless Lawyer: This has Lee Joon Gi. Watch it.

Just kidding, there are many other reasons to watch the show, but it is true that Lee Joon Gi is one of my favorite actors. The man has phoenix eyes, a jawline that could cut silk, diamonds, you name it, and such a deep well of emotional acting that it literally kills me when his characters rage/weep/love/etc.

Anyway, in this legal thriller/romance/action drama, LJG’s character Bong Sang Pil is a beautiful, very extra ex-gangster/now lawyer who opens his own office, ready to fight villainy and avenge his mom with the law or with his fists, whichever is more useful at the time. He has a right hand man named Manager Tae and recruits a bunch of thugs as his minions, and they all become a weird sort of family as the show goes on.

Ha Jae Yi is a quiet badass lawyer who has no time for sexist idiots and gets her license suspended for smacking one of said fools. She gets recruited to assist Sang Pil, and they find their goals align as both their mothers were destroyed by the villains.

Speaking of the villains? EXCELLENT acting by them all, like they need to go down obviously, but you can’t help but be in awe of a few of them or even get attached to one or two in a weird way. Props to the show for having one of the best female villains I have ever seen

What an icon

Here you get two gifs of him

Sorry I needed to make it a magical three lol

~~

Tune in next time for historical dramas and modern dramas that are a bit darker!

[real-jaune-isms]

RWBY Volume 8 Chapter 3 Review & Rundown

Oh boy oh boy, this sure was a heck of a time wasn’t it? Not quite as panic inducing and chaotic as last week with the Hound playing fetch with Oscar’s body, but I still felt a great deal of dread and unease as things took a turn for the negative. Hopefully I can properly explain how.

We begin on a black screen as Ruby pants and groans in a way that made me worry I had put on the wrong video. But no, she’s just winded from riding the tube up to Atlas, and we see her stagger out to see the rest of the group awaiting her. Nora is being painfully held by the ear for what she did to Weiss last episode, but she defends herself by saying it was the kind of thing you only get to do once in a lifetime so she should be happy about it. Blake is the last one to pop out of the tube, and she seems to have had a real bad time coming up. Hair a mess, a little of balance, out of breath, she has good reason to want to NEVER do this again. May asks Penny for directions through the base, though she calls her “robo-girl” when she does it which isn’t the greatest nickname. Penny does a 3D scan of the base and pulls up a map for reference, or something cool and digital to that effect, its more of a visual thing than something you can explain. She gives a rapid series of perfect directions, much to everyone but Ruby’s wide eyed amazement. Ruby is just smugly impressed that her gal pal can do this sort of cool thing. Penny also takes this chance to assert that she would much prefer being called by her actual name. Ruby gives a smug “heh” that May is getting told off, to which May scoffs. Kdin herself has commented that this was meant to only be indignation at being chided for the nickname, not any annoyance at Penny being insistent on what she is called. Personal identity is something May understands well, and she does call her Penny from that point on. So it’s nothing to go insulting or slandering May over.

May puts up her invisibility bubble, and they head off. We see them standing around in an elevator waiting to reach their floor, a very relatable bit of comedy, before taking a few hesitant steps back as it stops on an early floor and two soldiers get in. These two are outside the bubble so they can’t see our girls, but it’s still a tense situation. They get to their floor and sneak around the soldiers while they’re busy talking about how creepy Salem’s horde waiting in the air is, and Nora plays a little prank by hitting every elevator button on the way out. The soldiers are so confused and annoyed! Reaching a door with a security checkpoint, Penny pops one of her fingertips off to reveal a USB insert that she plugs into the terminal to use Pietro’s credentials without his hand print. Ruby is quite impressed by this cool new tool, as would be expected of the weapons buff. May asks which way to turn, and Penny informs them that next they will need to go directly through the central command room. There are a lot of people crowded together and walking around, and May’s Semblance is not equipped for that kind of navigation. Fortunately, we get an answer in the form of what I’d like to call the Pennydex. She explains, with a fun cartoony visual, that Ruby’s Semblance allows her to do much more than just move fast, she actually breaks down to a molecular level so her mass can be negated and she can move faster. So, as we saw briefly in episode 1 of Volumes 4 and 6 with Nora and Weiss respectively, she can do the same to other people and transport a group since the mass of a whole group wouldn’t matter if they’re all just flying molecules. TLDR: We were misinterpreting Ruby’s Semblance the whole time and she can use it to get them through the crowded room easily. And judging from Ruby’s look of shock and confusion, she’s been misinterpreting her Semblance too. Harriet did say that her power is unlike anything she’s ever seen before back in V7... Blake continues to be the funniest member of the group by pointing out how Penny knew this was possible before Ruby did, and all Ruby can do is remind her (and us) that Penny also figured out Blake’s faunus identity before Ruby had. Not exactly painting yourself in the brightest light if your only rebuttal is further proof you’re not that perceptive... 

With the opening of a door we shift scenes to Ironwood explaining himself for being tardy to... whatever it is he’s doing, and blaming it on how busy today has been. Meaning he’s probably killed someone else offscreen. The only thing that pisses me off more than that idea is whom he’s talking to: Watts, working for Ironwood to try and hack Penny under threat of execution from two armed guards. Point all the guns you want, Jimbo, this WILL backfire on you in a tremendous way. As quickly illustrated in a podcast about this episode by an IT professional, it is VERY bad business to hire a malicious hacker who has made no efforts to prove his stance with your security or what he will do with his skills has changed. If you can’t understand the jargon on his screen, he will use your ignorance to stab you in the back and turn this in his favor. But it is at least fortunate for Ironwood that Watts is here, because he points out that Pietro’s credentials are in use within the compound and it’s a little uncertain if the general would have noticed that without someone there checking the system. Naturally, as the paranoid man he is, Ironwood declares a security breach and a code red lockdown, authorization to use lethal force granted. Hey, I said this was fortunate for Ironwood, not for our heroes! The girls are of course panicked and worried, Penny checking the systems to see the tubes have been sealed too so they can’t leave how they came in. May is ready to swipe an airship for them so they can bail immediately, but Penny is resolute that the mission can still be achieved. Nora gets a good idea on how to make this work, and we see May sneak into the control room while cloaked to trip a guy walking by with a cup of coffee. His mug, labeled #1 Dad Dud, flies through the air and the hot coffee spills on a coworker’s computer and lap. This poor guy Bill who just wanted to drink some good bean juice, gets screamed at by another employee while the victim of the spill runs screaming out of the room to change pants. Bill is apparently notorious for not heeding the sign they have pinned up to say no food or drinks in the control room, and while the angry guy lists off his misdemeanors Ruby swoops up the rest of her friends and zooms through the room towards their destination while everyone is occupied with Bill. There’s a theory Bill is actually Velvet’s father Will Scarletina, since according to Before the Dawn he does work in Atlas, but considering the kind of guy Bill seems to be I would kinda hope otherwise. He microwaved salmon, for Christ’s sake! Unforgiveable!

The girls, minus May who went elsewhere to get a ship for their departure, emerge from Ruby’s petal blur safe and sound... except Blake. Penny, Weiss, and Nora have all been carried by Ruby before and are used to it, but this is Blake’s first time traveling Air Rose. So while the others look very proud of a triumphant Ruby, Blake is panicked and trying to steady herself. We next see them walking along an ominous looking bridgeway to a door with an electrified field in front of it. Penny does her USB insert thing to take down the electric barrier and unlock the door, and the others ready themselves to fight whoever might be on the other side. Instead, they find an empty room with several terminal pillars, a couple chairs, and one central interface computer that Penny will be using. After the door closes, Nora notes that the electricity started up again. Penny sits down at the terminal, and after taking a moment to breath and prepare herself notifies Pietro over whatever comms they use that she’s ready to start. It’s cute that she calls him dad, reminds me that yeah they are a family. What’s much less cute is that Pietro then remotely takes control of Penny from all the way at Amity so he can use her to perform the complicated process they need to make the launch plan work. The size of her irises and pupils changes, as does the color of her irises from green to yellow. Makes me very wary of the fact that her eyes were briefly red in the intro... especially since Watts is on the job to try and hack into her. Knowing her being remotely controlled is already possible in how she is programmed is TERRIFYING. Ruby is understandably a bit confused and taken aback by Pietro’s voice coming from Penny. “Penny” starts the complicated task as Ruby watches and probably has no idea what she’s looking at, and we cut over to Nora as she looks around the room. She passes by Weiss and Blake, and Blake is the one to voice her concern for Yang’s group. Makes sense she’s so concerned, she’s an only child worried by the fact that Ruby and Yang butted heads like that. Weiss is a sister so she knows what it’s like for siblings to fight like this, she knows it doesn’t mean they don’t love each other less or are on opposite sides. They just have different ideas about what’s right. Clearly she’s drawing from her own feelings on going against Winter at the end of Volume 7. Nora also tries to reassure Blake by talking about how strong and talented Jaune and Yang are and how much Oscar has grown as a fighter. Blake and Yang both seem impressed and reassured by this appraisal, while we the audience know this is very far from the current truth, since Oscar has been stolen away and Yang was unable to protect him. But what is also noteworthy is that she said nothing about Ren. She notices her own gap in information and tries to offer something but... she has no idea what Ren is right now. She hates feeling like she’s losing him, like she has less and less of an understanding who he is than ever before despite the years they’ve spent together, and she’s unsure if she should blame him or herself for this. This time Blake is the one with sage advice pulled from her own bittersweet experiences. When you’ve been at someone’s side for as long as they have, your identities become intertwined and you can lose track of what is really you vs what is a part of them mixed in. It’s important to keep a firm grip on who you are, to be your own person outside of that other person. Clearly, this is a warning to not make the mistakes she did with Adam, for Nora to not blind herself with obsession and attachment to this partner she trusts so much. They don’t say this flat out, but we can read between the lines. It’s a very nice moment from Blake, but it only worries Nora more. She’s had Ren in her life for so long, she really doesn’t know who she is as an individual. That’s a bit sad to think about, but Weiss tries to look on the bright side and says this can be an opportunity for Nora to do some self discovery and find who Nora Valkyrie truly is on her own. All Nora can think of to define herself though... is the value of her strength and her destructive capability. That’s all people expect of her, and she is finally getting a chance to prove herself beyond that.

Before Blake or Weiss have a chance to reassure her, they hear some promising beeps from the computer and rejoin Ruby and Penny. Pietro explains through Penny that he’s cloned the imprint of Ironwood’s computer signature onto Penny, so when they run the launch sequence for Amity the system will connect to her to get clearance instead of going all the way to this terminal to get it from the General. She finally returns to being herself, and says she’ll be sure to rejoin her friends once the launch is done so she can help finish the evacuations, buuuut Pietro has a different idea. He wants her to stay on the tower with him and Maria, but Penny wants to be here and help her friends who need her. Ruby does her best to be diplomatic about this, but she has to agree with Pietro. If Ironwood was right about the tower being unreachable by Salem’s forces then it will be the safest place for the Winter Maiden powers until Salem is beaten or leaves. So maybe Penny should stay there, at least for now? Weiss agrees, while Blake tries to change the subject and say they should head to the hangar and GTFO. Penny unlocks the door while lamenting how often folks are having to do things they would rather not. Appropriately enough, the Ace Ops are waiting on the other side looking for a fight our girls would probably rather not be having. With all the authority of a neighbor at your door to ask for their vacuum back, Harriet insists they’ll be bringing Penny “home” now. RNBW are quick to draw their weapons in defense, and it becomes a verbal spar instead. Surprisingly, it’s Vine who steps up with the speech to convince Penny. And just like the General, its full of negging and gaslighting to make her think she only thought she’s been doing what’s right but really she needs to do what Ironwood says. That she’s not protecting people unless she’s getting the relic for Ironwood. Which is, of course, bullshit because 60% of the people are in Mantle and the General has expressly stated he wants to abandon them to die in favor of keeping his already well fortified 40% up in Atlas safe. Penny tries to defend herself and her position on things with Mantle, but Hare and Elm have a pretty damn backwards way of remembering the end of Volume 7 because they call Penny ungrateful and blame her for Winter being in critical condition. Let’s try to imagine how that dramatic climax would have gone without Penny being there, hm? Winter wouldn’t have been able to get through the arctic vortex Fria was creating without dying of sheer cold, Cinder would have burned through with rage or spite or just been closer when Fria finally collapsed and died. Penny saved Winter’s life twofold and delayed Cinder long enough for Ruby to come in and make the Fall Maiden panic and leave. Get bent, bootlickers...

Marrow and Harriet try to rapidfire good cop bad cop Penny into backing down and surrendering her access of the vault to them, but Ruby uses actual logic and says boosting Atlas into the sky won’t stop Salem, it will only harm more people and delay the inevitable. Or at least, she tries to but hot tempered Hare yaps at her to shut up or she’ll get arrested just like Qrow. Threatening Ruby is more than Penny is willing to allow, and she takes the clear bait to step out of the server room only for Harriet to close the door behind her and leave the other girls trapped behind solid steel and deadly electric current. Penny uses her Maiden powers and her sword array to put up a good fight, but it’s still 4 vs 1 and their teamwork starts to overwhelm her, especially when Marrow uses his trump card Semblance to immobilize her for Vine to put cuffs on her. Meanwhile Weiss tries to use her Summon Knight to break down the door and even the odds, but the electric field is too much. She and Ruby lament how unfair this is and hope Penny can last a little while, but we are seeing how poorly that goes. Nora decides she has to step up for the clutch play, repeating the only 2 things she thinks she can do. “Be strong, and hit stuff...” So she jabs Magnhild into the power source on one side of the door and starts absorbing all the electricity into her body, screaming like Goku going Super Saiyan 3. And the analogy fits, because lightning runs across her skin in cool jagged bolts of pink and her hair stands on end. With a swing and a scream, she bashes the doors in and knocks the Ace Ops back a bit before they can cuff Penny. But all things must come with a cost, and this blows through all her Aura and she passes out with a momentary glassly look in her eyes. Not only that, the pink faded but the lightning patterns are still on her skin as an extensive set of scars consistent with the Lichtenberg figure observed on people actually struck by lightning. In terms of predictions for future consequences, serious electrocution like this has been documented to result in paralysis to some limbs, brain damage or memory loss, and sometimes even blindness. I worry those last two could be possible, since she was already having a hard time determining who she was without Ren so now she might completely forget who she is altogether, or she might lose her sight completely. I don’t know if RT would dare to do that, but we do have Yang’s arm as an example of their willingness for consequences... Regardless, the heroes are now down a woman but they’re still ready to fight for their friend. 

Ironwood bitches and moans about losing the chance for the odds to be stacked in his favor since he can’t win this encounter otherwise, but Watts has a new plan for the Ace Ops. Harriet doesn’t like the new orders, but Marrow is ready and willing to obey. Elm quickly swipes RWB over the edge of the walkway before they can do much to fight back against the already winded Atlesians, and by the time Ruby can scoop up her teammates with her Semblance (thank goodness she learned to do that today), the damage is done. Harriet maneuvers behind Penny and yanks one of her swords out of her back with a heart wrenching pluck of the connecting string. Like pulling off a butterfly’s wing... especially since in this world weapons are supposed to be like an extension of your soul. With the sword yoinked their job is done here and they all bail, though Marrow has a remorseful look back at the teens as if he knows he’s trapped on the wrong side. Guess we know why he agreed to this plan so quickly, it was a grab and go rather than a total takedown of their former friends. Blake is the first to point out how incredibly sus this behavior was, but they don’t have time to fully ruminate on the situation because they’ve also done what they came to do and they need to GTFO. Carrying Nora, they meet May in the hangar where her jaunty greeting is cut short by the sight of the ginger girl’s injuries. They need to get her somewhere safe, so they violently bust out through the doors. While in the open air, Penny says her goodbyes and they reveal the ship can be a convertible so she can fly away. Ruby and Penny share a tender but deep hug, and Ruby promises they’ll see each other soon. I just worry when they do it will be on opposite sides of the battlefield, and this worry is not helped by the final scene. The Ace Ops deliver Penny’s sword to a satisfied Ironwood, though Harriet would have been happier taking all of those meddling kids down. Watts cryptically implies that with a piece of Penny’s tech they can make her join them, and anyone who doesn’t trust him immediately knows by “them” he means Salem. And that’s the worrisome note we end on this week. Will next week be better? With the element of future knowledge/ the curse of this review being a week or so late I can say NOPE.

[american-satanxx]

Phoenix Rises//Dick Grayson Ch.1

Author’s Note: This is takes place after Season 2 of Titans. If you want to be tagged, let me know

Masterpost

I Want To Be A Good Man, I Want To See God

I lean up against a post watching my brothers set up the netting under the trapeze swings. When I was younger, this brought excitement and joy; now it just brings sadness. “I know Dad bought Haly’s Circus to bring it back to its former glory,” I start as I push myself up off the post. “But did we seriously have to include trapeze artists? No one is going to be able to replace The Flying Graysons.” “We aren’t replacing them, Lo.” My brother Tony states. “But the circus won’t be the same without a trapeze act, just like it won’t be complete without you shaking your ass to dubstep shit and dancing with fire. But we aren’t replacing that just because mom died last year.” “Well mom didn’t die in the middle of her act.” I remind them. “It’s going to be weird seeing the new people.” “Get over it, sis.” Tony chuckles. “Plus one of the guys has the hots for you. Just like old times, huh?” “Dick never had the hots for me.” I point out. “It was always pathetically one sided. “You’ve got to be shitting me!” My other brother, Ford, shouts from the stands. I look up and he’s on his phone. “Did you know about this Lo?” He jumps down and strides towards me. He thrusts his phone into my face just as some kid, dressed up as Robin states the Titans are back. “You’ve got to be shitting me.” I repeat my brother in disbelief. “After the death of Garth and Jericho, he swore he’d never go back.” “I know I haven’t seen Dick in awhile but that’s not him.” Tony chuckles. “Who the fuck is this joker?” “Dick’s replacement?” I shrug. “I didn’t think Batman would replace him, he actually did care a lot about him.” “That’s hard to believe. I remember the stories. Batman was a grade A dick to you guys.” Ford states. “He didn’t like Dick hanging out with you or Dawn or Hank.” “I think it was mostly Dawn and Hank. He didn’t mind me because I was a reminder of Dick’s past.” “Which is why he didn’t like you around him too much.” Tony counters. “You were a reminder of what happened. You were Dick’s only long lasting link to Haly’s.” “So what are you going to do?” Ford asks. “Are you going to rush over there and play superhero again? You said the only way you’d go back into the life is if Dick is right there with you.” “I can’t just walk back in the Tower, not after the fight I had with Dick before I left.” I bite my lower lip. “Besides, I can’t leave you guys without your best fire dancer. I’m not going to step down from my post to make a trip to San Fran.” “We have a few shows there in a couple months or have you forgotten?” Ford smirks. “Invite him and the new Titans to the show. Then afterwards spending time with your boy, see if anything is still there.” “And if something is?” “You fight for it this time.” Tony states. “You go after him…”

Several months later I’ve watched from afar as Dick and the rest of the Titans have taken on Deathstroke. And I’m glad I wasn’t there, especially after hearing about Donna’s death. It was painful news, especially since I was extremely close with Donna. I find myself standing in front of the Towers’ entrance. Part of my wants to put in my code, which I somehow still remember, but I decide against it. There is no way in hell Dick still has my code programmed. Sighing, I hit the intercom button and soon the buzzing is followed by a kid’s voice. “Who are you and state your business?” The kid states. “Lauren Sutton. I’m here to speak with Dick.” “Do you have an appointment?” “Do I need one?” I chuckle. “Dick’s not that important that he needs appointments to be made. He’s not Batman or Bruce Wayne.” “Is he expecting you?” “Look kid, just let me in. I’m an old friend of Dick’s.” I let out a frustrated sigh. “I even used to have a code to get into this damned building. I’m just looking to reconnect with an old friend.” I hear a sigh over the intercom but I’m quickly buzzed in. A nervous smile dances on my lips. It’s now or never. Dick Grayson I’m in the training room with Dawn and Hank when Gar comes rushing in. The three of us stop training and look at the panting teenager. “What’s wrong, Gar?” “Some chick is on her way up here, says she’s an old friend of yours.” Gar states once he catches his breath. “She was adamant about coming up here.” “Did she give a name?” Hank questions. “Lauren Sutton.” The three of us exchange looks. “Lo is here?” Dawn is the one to ask. “What would Nix want with you now?” Hank asks me. “She wasn’t exactly your biggest fan after Jericho’s death.” I’m about to open my mouth to speak but it’s not my voice that comes out… “Maybe she wants to visit some old friends.” Lauren’s voice states. I look behind Gar and see her walking into the room; her hips sway with each step. “I see you brought back the Titans. Never thought in a million years that would ever happen.” “Has hell frozen over?” I question her with a smirk. “Because you said it’ll be a cold day in hell the day you walk back into my life.” “I also said that about joining the circus again.” A chuckle escapes her lips. “But I’m back doing my fire dance once more.” “You joined another circus?” “My mom’s life insurance policy was enough money that my dad turned her tragic accident into a way for him to bring back Haly’s Circus.” She replies, sadly. “That’s one of the reasons why I’m here. I wanted to cordially invite you guys to the opening night here.” “Haly’s Circus isn’t that…” Gar starts but stops when he looks at me. “I told you I was an old friend.” Lauren smiles. “Dick and I go way, way back.” “Can we go?” Gar asks, looking at me. “Rachel is due to come back soon and this’ll be a nice way to welcome her back.” “I don’t know, Gar.” Dawn starts. “This might bring up a lot of memories for Dick.” “If you don’t want to come, I don’t blame you.” Lauren states, looking right at me. “Our first opening night was hard on me too. It was so weird seeing another family on the trapeze.” “They couldn’t leave out the trapeze?” Hank scoffs. “Father said it would incomplete the circus.” Lauren sighs. “Anyway, that’s why I’m here. To invite you. I’ll leave your name at the door, you are more than welcome to invite whoever you want. Gates open at 6pm” Lauren smiles before walking out the room. “We’re going right?” Gar asks. “She didn’t have to come down here but she did. It would be rude to not go.” “It’s up to Dick.” Dawn states. “These are his demons we are about to face.” I bite my lower lip in thought. I’m suddenly tossed into every memory I have ever shared with Lauren. And Gar is right, it would be rude to not go after she personally invited us. “Yea, we’re going…”

[daughterofelros]

Hey so I saw your post about Alex and his resilience and how he's rate on a scale and how this relates to his childhood trauma etc and was really curious to know/understand more on the topic and how it manifests with alex but also you mentioned rosa? And the other characters too. If you're happy to elaborate otherwise no worries of course. What interpretations do you make from what we've seen on screen? ☺

Oh my gosh Nonnie, thank you for the juicy, delicious ask!

The Connor-Davidson Resilience Scale (Commonly abbreviated to CD-RISC) measures, in its full version, 25 different statements. Some of the ones that stand out to me in thinking about a bunch of the RNM characters include being able to adapt and change, having close and secure relationships, able to make unpopular/difficult decisions, know where to get help, but they’re all pretty important.

As established in my earlier assessment, Alex Manes = Super Resilient, and that definitely has an effect on the ways he handles the traumas he’s faced over his life.

Let me dive into Rosa little bit more first— Rosa, despite not enduring the specific type of abuse that Alex and Michael did as kids, might actually score in a lower percentile than either of those characters on the resilience scale. Part of this is because adverse childhood experiences, though cumulative, aren’t exactly ranked and scaled. Trauma impacts people differently, and you can’t really say whether growing up feeling abandoned by an alcoholic parent in an otherwise supportive context, or never having a safe parental figure, or having a parent die will impact someone “worse”—they’re all adversity, and they all have an impact on our health and capacity for resilience. (Also, inequality isn’t a fixed experience in our brains—for more reading on how weird our brains are in this regard, check out “The Broken Ladder: How Inequality Affects the Way We Think, Live, and Die”  by Keith B Payne).So Rosa definitely has adverse childhood experiences that impact her relationships. At the point when we’re first introduced to her, she’s probably in about the worst place she could be there—Her friendships are being proven to be based on what drugs she can score, her relationship with her mother is shredded, and she’s just learned that Arturo isn’t her father. Even though Arturo’s love and support for her wouldn’t budge an inch, she feels separated from the most supportive relationship in her life, and she’s spiraling. She struggles to adapt, her coping mechanisms mess with her brain chemistry where she’s already contending with dopamine issues due to the mental illness she’s battling , and it’s pretty clear that she doesn’t have a strong read on where to get help (Though she’s willing to accept it—Valenti’s help getting clean, having met once with a therapist, leaning into her artwork).  Pressure doesn’t make her think very clearly, and she doesn’t seem like she takes high levels of pride in her achievements, or trust that she can achieve her goals if she works for them. Traumas are going to hit her hard. They’re not going to roll off her back easily. When she comes back to life, she gets a partial reset button, and handles some big trauma pretty well…but she also is terrified of messing it up, and breaks down if anything gets derailed (see: “I Ruined my Miracle”). I’d say she’s doing a great job coping with what she’s got…but her resilience score isn’t the highest. Things hit her hard.

Let’s look at Michael then. He’s got every reason why his resilience score might not be high. He’s dealt with so damn much. But the thing that’s helped him get through is that his resilience score actually seems like it would be pretty well up there. He doesn’t have good parental figure relationships (understatement of the year)—But he’s got a couple of relationships (Max and Isobel) that won’t abandon him, no matter how he pushes, even when everything is burning around them. Michael clearly believes that working toward goals means he can achieve them. He’s been trying to build the spaceship to take him back home since he was, like, eight. That’s goal-oriented right there! He’s not going to score well in the “getting help” vector at all, but he does work extremely well under pressure (his genius increases when he’s pissed off). Michael also clearly believes that he can deal with whatever comes his way, he ultimately doesn’t give up when things look hopeless (alien pacemaker in 7 hours), and I’d bet my bottom dollar that he would agree that coping with stress has made him stronger. He’d probably rank himself pretty high on the “Can make difficult or unpopular decisions” factor—choosing to take the blame and protect Isobel, volunteering to be the alien who gets turned into the authorities…there are flaws in his reasoning on the last one, and definitely some internalized feelings of his life not being as important…but he shows a clear propensity for being willing to make unspeakably challenging decisions. He probably won’t rank high in the “Pride in my achievements” vector, and that hits up against the things he’s internalized from the ACES he’s had piled on him—from childhood abuse and abandonment right up to Jesse Manes, crippling injury, and covering up murders. His resilience is high, but he’s coping with a lot, and he doesn’t have as many tools to keep coping as, say, Alex does.  We can also see that there’s a pretty debilitating impact when he shifts to the knowledge that his Mom was alive and he watched her die… and then starts to question why she didn’t take him out of the Pod to be with her in 1947. He starts to have thoughts about abandonment that he hadn’t had when he just thought his Mom died in the crash…and that paired with Max’s death really, really throws him. He rejects connections that have ever been tied up in pain and abandonment, and we see him spiraling. His resilience definitely dips when those circumstances occur…and as we see him trust in some of his relationships again, we see his ability to cope return as well. With the right tools and support, he can actually do a lot of healing yet too.

Isobel probably scores pretty high on the scale at the beginning of season 1. She’s had some adverse childhood experiences from waking up from the pods, from being attacked in the desert as a teen., but she’s made it through all of that without a ton of trauma responses (given that the blackouts turned out to be mind control) She’s confident in her goals, her relationships, she’s strong in her decision-making, she believes she’s built herself a good life. She has a supportive family, Max is her person, she’s got Michael, and her husband is amazingly supportive. We don’t see much in the way of friends, but she’s got a Boss-Ass support structure. Until she realizes she doesn’t. That Noah is a thread of rot through all of it, and she’s been deceived on an inconceivable level. And then she loses Max.

Isobel at the beginning of Season 2 would fill this assessment out very, very differently. And the sharp drop in some of the factors of her resilience really make her struggle. Her confidence in herself as a strong person is deeply under review, and she’s leaning a little hard into the god-like powers aspect of herself. Knocking Rosa out with a book is a really alarming manifestation of how her reasoning and coping skills are out of alignment. She’d probably use it as evidence for her ability to make unpopular decisions though. She’d score really high in the vector regardless though—because choosing to terminate a pregnancy in a town like Roswell…that takes so damn much resilience, ability to make decisions under pressure, etc.  She’s still got the resilience that comes from her goal setting and working for things she values though—her training with her powers shows that pretty clearly.

Isobel definitely isn’t going to score high in the “Knows where to get help” vector though. She refuses therapy, refuses help from family, doesn’t seek medical assistance, and almost dies as a result of her abortion, when she would have had all kinds of support from people around her if she’d been able to reach out. Even when she’s struggling, she has a history of resilience to draw on though.

Let’s talk Cam for a moment—we don’t have a lot of info on her childhood, but Cam actually seems to be a character with high scores across the board—for only having 2 years in Roswell, she forms connections pretty readily, goes to people for help, is focused on goals, takes pride in her work. She handles most things with aplomb, and isn’t easily manipulated. Jesse Manes has to work pretty hard on her to get her to bat an eyelash. That’s particularly interesting given the relationship that resilience has in attenuating depression effects and PTSD effects on people with combat experience.

Max is hard to talk about, because we don’t know a lot about where he is this season, and what the trauma of dying and being kept in a pod in constant pain is going to do to him. He seems reasonably able to deal with the hardships he’s faced prior to this, shows a propensity to be able to make unpopular decisions, and is probably the character who is most consistently and intentionally shown investing in relationships. I’d imagine that his resistance score is at least in the middling percentiles. Max is also pretty much the character it’s hardest to wrap my brain around when I’m writing, so that’s why I think I struggle in guessing how he’d assess himself here too.

Kyle is so interesting, because he’s a character who seems to know himself really well, and has maybe also changed the most over 10 years. Kyle these days really values and invests in his relationships—His Mom, Liz, rebuilding a friendship with Alex, trusting Cam. He’s dedicated in pursuing goals, takes pride in his accomplishments, has a reasonably good idea of where to seek help, works well under pressure. He’s had a lot of advantages in life, and while med school definitely tests his resilience and endurance, I don’t know how much his resilience has had to help him get through trauma before this.  I do know that the scene where he almost buys a gun is one of my favorites, because it shows him trying to cope with crisis and handle a lot of stress. I don’t think we’ve seen a full enough arc of how he’s coping yet though—I think there’s more to come.

Maria DeLuca strikes me as scoring relatively high on resilience assessments (or at least the high end of mid-to-upper range). She’s caring for a mother with dementia, runs a business, and deals with racism and misogyny in a town like Roswell, which it’s well-established is renowned for both of those things. Maria has really strong relationships—her Mother is a huge priority, her friends matter deeply to her (fandom drama over ships aside, and whether Alex should forgive her for dating Michael or not, Maria in canon expresses a lot of care for her friends, worries if she’s hurt them, and forgives when she’s hurt herself). She’s close with Arturo, she visits Rosa’s grave once a month. She does a lot of giving, not a lot of getting back, and feels pretty shaken when she’s deceived, but she still has a lot of stable relationships to lean into. She’s…not great at asking for help, or letting on that she needs it- she tries to go everything alone. But she also problem-solves, she pursues her goals, she believes that you get what you work for  (“No one ever accused me of a lack of hustle”),  and she doesn’t give up when she feels hopeless.  She’s probably middle of the road on handling unpleasant feelings—some she handles well, some she reacts intensely to, some she buries. It seems like when a crisis happens, she’s conflicted and struggling in the moment, but processes through things in a reasonably short time. I’d say one of the places that she doesn’t score that high on is the ability to adapt to change. She gets there eventually, but that’s where she struggles the most. The thing is, because of what she’s faced with in daily life, she’s constantly utilizing her resilience. It’s something she leans on all the time.

Liz is brilliant, and amazing, and it’s kind of hard for me to parse this out for her. Strong relationships, she’s got those. She’s great at adapting, great at problem-solving and pursuing her goals. She sees herself as strong, faces challenges, sees the humor in things, bounces back from setbacks, honestly, she would score pretty well in every category. I think there’s pretty clear evidence that with all the things she’s accomplished and all the things she’s endured, Liz Ortecho is a wellspring of resilience, and it definitely attenuates the long-term negative effects she might face from her experiences. She faces some of the same adverse childhood experiences that her sister does, but reacts very differently. Their resilience—despite the similarity of their contexts for nurture—differs substantially…and that’s even before we add in the trauma of Rosa’s death that Liz contends with.

Overall, the characters on this show are a resilient bunch. I’m watching some other shows right now as I make masks for my community, and it strikes me that most of the RNM characters would score higher on the CD-RISC assessment than the characters on those other TV shows (many of whom hold a relatively large amount of privilege).

But notably, the characters on RNM strike me as far more like the people who move through my community every day. Overwhelmingly, my community is comprised of queer people, people of color, homeless and unaccompanied youth, people dealing with mental health issues, sexual assault survivors, abuse survivors, folks with PTSD and DID, and people who would be considered low-socioeconomic status. My community is made up almost entirely of people who deal with adverse experiences, and had intense adverse childhood experiences. Resilience is the norm. Resilience ends up being a key word in almost every letter of recommendation I write. And one of the reasons I love RNM so much is that the characters are brought to life quite realistically. There’s a lot of different truths from experience, and a lot of different paths to similar truth. But overwhelmingly, their responses to these impossible events are grounded in realistic depictions. When it comes to character development, this might just be some of the best writing I’ve ever seen on TV. And for a show that’s solidly in the sci-fi realm…it’s possibly the most realistic show I’ve ever seen.

[sadstonewrites]

Celestial Steel: Fractured Psyche

Hello friends :) this is my AO3 work that I have decided to begin crossposting onto tumblr in order to reach a wider audience in the Colossus Thirst Collective, as well as just for fans of Colossus in general. This is a large series and I will be posting it in chunks on here, but the full story is already uploaded onto AO3 if you’re feeling impatient. So, without further ado, here we go! 

Also, just to avoid confusion later on, My OC (Lane) uses they/them pronouns and identifies as nonbinary! 

Pairings: Piotr Rasputin (Colossus) x OC

Rated M

Chapter 1

Police are now engaged in a high speed chase on the interstate involving a pedestrian taxi and a biochemical transport truck that was reportedly hijacked outside of the Belrose Pharmaceutical manufacturing plant, a subsidiary of the Rand Corporation. According to authorities, the truck was reported missing and its driver was found killed in the company loading dock early this morning. It is unknown at this time if the driver of the taxi is aligned with the hijackers -

Piotr Rasputin’s phone rang and he frowned at the caller ID. With a sigh, and a careful press as to not break any of the screen (again), he picked it up.

“Wade-”

“Hey Chromedome, you busy?” Wade’s voice crowed over the speaker.

In the background, Piotr could hear police sirens and Bollywood music playing over a radio. Piotr had to mute the television just to confirm what he was hearing, and groaned at the realization that yes, it was Wade in the taxi involved in the high speed chase. How Dopinder had been able to keep his license was beyond him.

“Wade, please tell me you had nothing to do with what I am seeing on news.”

“Okay, then I won’t tell you. But just if, y’know, you wanted to take a break from jerking off the other X-Men and come on down here, for funsies, that’d be cool.”

Piotr pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and leaned forward into his knees, causing the coach to groan underneath him. “Wade, we have talked about this. Our agreement was that X-Men would allow X-Force to operate and not get involved unless necessary, doing so otherwise is waste of resources and risks endangering -”

“But this is necessary! Okay, that last time with the mattress stores being a front for mutant cage fighting was my bad, but do you have anything better to do?” Wade sighed into the receiver. “Don’t make me admit that I actually need your help with this.”

“What about Cable or Domino -?”

There was the sound of a struggle and Cable’s voice came onto the phone. “We’re already here, big guy.” Cable said, “and he’s actually right about this one. They’re transporting about a hundred barrels of biochemical material in that truck, and something tells me that whatever roadblock they set up isn’t going to be stopping them.”

“A suicide bomber?” Piotr asked, jumping to his feet at the realization.

“Looks like it.” Cable confirmed. “I’ve only picked up one heat signature in the truck cabin, but there’s movement in the back with all the chemicals. Might be hostages.”

“Give me that -” Wade yelled from the background. There was a sound of a struggle and Wade’s voice came back on. “But, yeah. Aren’t the X-Men all about protecting civilians or some shit?”

“Well yes but -”

“But nothing, get off your shiny metal ass and get over here! Bring NTW too, fun for the whole family.”

He hung up and Piotr groaned, shoving his phone back into his pocket. Ellie and Yukio just happened to be walking by, and stuck their heads in at the sight of their mentor standing in the middle of the room.

“Who was that on the phone?” Yukio asked, pulling Ellie into the room behind her.

“Guess,” came Piotr’s defeated reply. He was torn - for Wade to admit he needed help was a cause for concern all on it’s own, but if this turned out to be a bust, it would be his head on the chopping block.

“I thought that after that mattress store fiasco, the deal was that we let them go out and make a mess as long as they clean it up?” Ellie asked, annoyance evident in her voice.

“It is deal. But this might be bigger mess than they can handle.” Piotr stood and walked back out into the hall, the two girls tailing behind him. He reached the elevator and pressed a button, all three stepping inside the metal interior. Ellie pressed the ‘down’ button and turned to face her mentor. “What about Cable and Domino?”

“Already there.”

“Scott isn’t going to like this.” Yukio quietly said, saying what all three of them were thinking. The de-facto leader of the X-Men, Scott had a bone to pick with Deadpool and had banished him from the grounds of the mansion on more than one occasion. Not that anyone had blamed him, especially with the amount of antics that Deadpool had the habit of getting into. He had been the one to raise the issue of using resources for X-Force missions, and as much as everyone thought it was kind of a dick move for doing so, he had a point.

Piotr grimaced, knowing he was already going to be getting an earful about this later. “I trust Deadpool, when he says he needs help, we help. Sometimes for better or worse. But, we are X-Men, it’s what we do. For better or worse.”

They descended into the basement hangar and Ellie and Yukio split off towards their respective lockers to get changed. Piotr practically lived in his uniform - more practical that way - and went ahead to warm up the jet.

“Have you eaten? Had water?” Piotr asked, calling out to the two trainees. “I brought snacks.”

“We’re good,” replied Ellie, stepping out in her suit and following him into the jet. A look from Piotr and she took a bottle of water from his duffel bag, if only to placate him. Yukio took a granola bar as well, just for good measure. Piotr closed the ramp and hit a button, the ceiling above the jet opening up above them.

“Buckle in.” He cautioned, taking the controls into his hands and thrusting them upwards. The jet soundlessly came to life and took off like a shot into the sky, leaving nothing but an empty spot in the hangar.

It didn’t take long for the jet to reach the interstate, cutting through the clouds and flying over the skyline at an extreme speed.

“There’s the truck,” Ellie called back into the cabin of the jet. “And the taxi.”

“And the police.” Yukio replied. Looking out the front windows, sure enough there was a solid line of police cars blocking the end of the highway, and more that were closely following Dopinder’s taxi.

“Get us in closer.” Piotr said, his phone buzzing in his pocket. He picked it up and held the phone back from his ear as Wade’s voice screamed into the receiver.

“Hey Chrome-rad, glad you could make it, we have a plan. Like, a super awesome, blockbuster action movie plan -” There was a shout and Wade’s voice was cut off and replaced by Cable.

“We’re going to pull up beside of it and disconnect the trailer from it’s cab -”

“Would you stop doing that!” Wade’s voice came back on. “Then Cable’s gonna use the force to try and slow the trailer down to keep it from going boom.”

“It’s not the force, Wade.” Cable groaned in the background.

“Would you two knock it off?” Domino’s voice came on the line. “That leaves the cab. We reckon there’s about 500 yards between the cab and the police blockade. How confident are you in your landings?”

“Landings?” Piotr asked, looking out the window to see Dopinder’s cab speeding up to pull beside the truck.

“Not all of us can exactly take a truck to the face and walk it off. Get in front of the truck and stop it. And uh, Good luck.” She hung up.

From outside the window, Piotr could see Wade’s red-clad body hanging halfway out of Dopinder’s taxi, reaching for the small space between the cab and the trailer. He flung himself out of the open door and onto the walkway, frantically beginning to cut the cables connecting the truck to the trailer.

“Bozhe moi. Ellie, bring us in low and open the ramp.”

The jet lurched as Ellie dropped it down lower, Piotr’s stomach lurching likewise. The ramp opened up, the wind rushing into the cabin and the road stretching open below him.

“The trailer is loose!” Yukio yelled from up in the cabin, her soft voice nearly getting lost in the noise of the wind. “Jump!"

There was a horrid screeching sound - Cable’s telekinesis pulling the trailer backwards in an attempt to slow it down. Saying a quick prayer to whomever happened to be listening, Piotr jumped feet first outside the jet into the air, quickly falling to the earth.

[hcwkward]

Coffee | Clint Barton/Reader

Prompt: “So... Do I get a goodnight kiss?”

Ship: Clint Barton/Reader

Triggers: N/A

Author’s Notes: This is my entry to @whirlybirbs‘ Endgame Writing Challenge. I’m not going to lie, it gets worse as it goes on, but hey, I lost a lot of it thanks to my laptop crashing and then stayed up till 7am rewriting it so what can you do?

There were many positives to living with your team mates; you never failed to have someone to train and spar with, you were always able to leave for missions with incredible speed, and all in all, it was just a lot of fun. From the way Tony would tease Steve about technology he didn’t understand, despite the fact that it was often things that were well beyond most of the team as well, to the way meals had become something of a family like affair with everyone squabbling, you could easily say you had never been happier. Of course, the fact that you had found Clint Barton amongst the chaotic mess of team mates certainly helped with that.

You had worked together before on the odd mission for SHIELD, but that had always been as a part of someone else’s directive, often under the watchful eye of Fury himself as he sent his best out to deal with whatever situation had occurred. During that time you hadn’t really had a chance to get to know one another, after all, who can really get to know someone else in the heat of a mission? But you had enjoyed his witty remarks, offering the occasional scoff of laughter at a well timed quip, but nothing more. Now, with your rooms mere metres apart, you had a much better chance of getting to know one another.

It hadn’t started exactly smoothly, if you were to be completely honest with yourself. After the whole Chitauri situation you felt like you were walking on eggshells around the man, not really blaming him for his actions, but terrified of saying something that might make him think you did. So you had taken to avoiding him, unintentionally at first, but after a while it just seemed easier. Of course, that lead to Clint strongly believing you blamed him entirely for his actions and suddenly you were both avoiding one another with quite the amusing consequences, at least, as far as Tony was concerned.

You would catch a glimpse of him and attempt to disappear before he saw you. But, of course, his peripheral vision was something he was well known for, so the moment you would appear at the end of the corridor, he would try and pardon himself from the room, and suddenly neither of you were actually where ever it was you were trying to go. The unfortunate sideaffect of this, however, was that it meant neither of you actually managed to stay in the kitchen very long, and that meant two caffeine starved Avengers slowly getting more and more exhausted and grumpy as the days went on.

It wasn’t until the morning after one of Stark’s parties when you had been assigned to go on a mission with Nat that things changed. You had practically dragged yourself to the kitchen in search of that sweet blissful coffee maker, head feeling as if it had been hit with a sledgehammer and drained of any form of liquid all at once, completely unaware of your surroundings. Unable to see the coffee pot you usually would have gone for in a desperate need to simply ingest as much caffeine as possible, you groaned loudly before punching in whatever buttons you hoped would make you some kind of somewhat decent coffee into Tony’s overly complicated espresso machine.

An amused scoff of laughter reached your ears and, with a sigh that could revel any reality television stars melodramatic acting, you turned to see an equally exhausted Clint slouched against the kitchen bench, hugging the coffee pot to him as if he would give his life for it without a second’s hesitation.

The idea that perhaps you should leave, particularly as you weren’t sure you could trust your sleep ridden mind to say anything appropriate, was quickly pushed from your mind, however, as he moved in the slightest way possible, and brought the entire pot to his mouth, taking a hearty swig. The shock you felt at the action must have been evident on your face as the moment the pot hit the counter, a hearty chuckle followed, not as reserved as he had expected.

Floundering for something to say, you completely missed the beeping coming from behind you, your eyes merely narrowing as Clint’s eyes twinkled with amusement. It seemed another laugh was edging its way out of his lips, but he simply shook his head as if to rid himself of it before pointing to the beeping machine and simply saying “cup,” much to your confusion.

Twirling around in the hopes of understanding what on earth he was on about your eyes quickly widened as you realised your mistake. Coffee and milk were flowing freely from the machine, trailing their way over the counter and running all the way to the ground. You hadn’t put a cup under the spout. A string of curses flew from your mouth as you hopped awkwardly around the running liquid, desperately looking for something to stop the flood but, thankfully, it stopped with a satisfied beep. Grabbing at one of the tea towels angrily, fully aware that the bottom of your pajama pants were now soaked in coffee and yet your thirst had not been quenched, you began to clean up the mess.

“Stupid coffee maker,” you grumbled as you finished wiping the last of the steaming liquid off the counter with a pout. 

An exhale that sounded suspiciously like a laugh came from the other side of the counter, but when you threw a glare at the direction of the archer, he simply smirked, raising his hands in mock surrender as he did so. “You need a hand?” he asked softly, his tone wary as if not wanting to overstep, but your sleep fogged mind didn’t notice the hesitation in his voice or the shy glance he offered along with his words.

“Please,” you practically moaned.

“Or you could always have some of-” he trailed off, pointing at the coffee pot in front of him as he clambered off the kitchen stool, eyes twinkling once more as he noticed the way your nose turned up at the suggestion.

“Oh, no. That’s all yours. You’ve claimed that,” you shook your head, a slight huff of laughter coming from your lips as you wondered just how often he drank out of the coffee pot, the communal coffee pot.

“Glad to hear it,” he spoke, offering a wonky grin as he brought the jug with him towards the coffee machine and began to make you coffee, this time with a cup ready to capture the liquid. 

“So,” you dragged out the word, suddenly unsure of what to say to the man you had been living with and yet practically ignoring for months now. “Are you always up this early?”

A scoff answered you as he took a poignant gulp from his coffee pot. “Does it look like I’m a morning person?” he asked as he leaned back against the counter to look at you.

“Good point,” you offered with a huff of a laugh, still unable to meet his gaze, despite the fact you could practically feel it glancing over you in curiosity, looking for answers to questions you didn’t know. “So why are you awake? I thought everyone would be dead to the world, well, besides Cap, I guess.”

With a shrug that felt somewhat more forced than any other shrug you had experienced, he put the jug down to focus on the coffee machine once more. “Lost a bet last night, I’m taking Nat’s place on... whatever the hell it is Nat is meant to be doing today.”

“So, uh, that means we’re- we’re working together, just us,” you spoke slowly, desperately wishing you had consumed some coffee before the fact had dawned upon you.

A sound of clattering answered you, followed by a soft “shit-fuck!” as Clint tried to clear up whatever it was he had knocked over. It seemed the pair up was a surprise to him too if his suddenly stumbling behaviour was any clue. “Uh- I guess?” he offered in a failed attempt at nonchalance, passing you the fresh cup of coffee that had only the slightest bit of liquid running down the edge to show he had knocked it.

“Right, cool,” you nodded, torn between fear you’d fuck things up and gratefulness that you had made it this far without seeming to have insulted him, hoping that may just be the precedent for the mission.

“Look, uh-” Clint started, awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck as he looked at the floor with deeper contemplation than you had ever seen on his features before. “Can we just, I don’t know, call a truce or whatever? I mean, I get it, I’m not expecting you to change your mind about me or anything, I totally respect your thoughts and what not, just- If we’re to work together, we kind of need to trust each other.”

A frown formed on your face, pulling at your brow in confusion. “You don’t trust me?” the words slipped from your lips so quietly you weren’t even certain you had said them out loud until you noticed the taken back look on the archer’s face.

“What? Of course I trust you, I meant you- you know- after the who tesseract thing...” he trailed off with an expression you suddenly understood, an expression that brought great guilt to your heart. He felt ashamed.

“Clint,” you practically sighed.

“No, it’s alright, forget I said anything- I’ll just- I’ll meet you at the quinjet,” he spoke in a rush, moving to leave.

“I do trust you,” you called out after him, desperate for him to know the truth. How could you not? He had fought along with you and all the other members against the Chitauri, against Loki. He had done nothing but prove himself for longer than you knew him. Being controlled by someone else didn’t change that fact, it just meant that some asshole had taken advantage of him.

He stopped mid-step, head still hanging low as if he wasn’t ready to believe you.

“Hey, I’m serious,” you spoke more forcefully this time, arms crossing in front of you as you made your way towards him. “I don’t blame you for the Loki shit. I know you’re more than capable, that you’re loyal and trustworthy.”

“People don’t avoid people they trust, Y/N,” he spoke in such a small voice that you could practically feel your heart breaking the moment the words had escaped his lips.

“People avoid people they’re scared they’re going to accidentally hurt though,” you countered with a sigh. “I’ve seen the shit Stark says, on purpose and by accident. You’ve seen me without coffee, I’ve got less than a percent of my brain actually working. I just- I didn’t want to accidentally say something like Tony and end up hurting you.”

His gaze flickered upwards for a slight moment, searching your own to see if there was any hint of a lie there, but after a moment he looked away with a soft smile. “Guess we won’t have any problems at all then, huh?”

Famous last words. The moment you had landed you had been ambushed, apparently the information you had been given wasn’t quite as genuine as you had believed. But nonetheless you persevered, and, with only a few cuts and scrapes, you both made it back home with an entirely new view of one another, one that came with a whole lot more laughter.

After that things got easier. You could joke around, make sarcastic comments, laugh at sassy remarks and generally enjoy spending time together. It wasn’t long before your friendship became something more, and as surprising as it would have been if you had been told that you would be going out with Clint Barton some months earlier, now it just felt natural.

Of course, living with a group of heroes didn’t make it easy to keep things quiet, and it only took two weeks before Natasha had you cornered on your way towards breakfast, a meal you had come to enjoy since making it something of a tradition to meet Clint for your daily caffeine kick. 

“Spill,” she said simply, a hand on either wrist as she kept you against the wall, an amused smirk on her perfectly painted red lips.

“Nat?” you questioned in your sleepy state, wondering what on earth she was on about. If it had been any other time of day, after you had a chance to consume your precious coffee, you might have feared she had caught onto the fact you had started seeing her best friend, but as it was you were simply too tired to put the facts together.

“You and Barton, what’s going on?” she pushed, rolling her eyes in such a dramatic manner that even her head moved slightly. “And I suggest you answer truthfully because you know Clint will fold like a cheap card table.”

Your eyes widened in shock. How on earth had she figured it out? You hadn’t even managed to go on that many dates with all the work you had recently, and you had been so careful, neither wanting to face the wrath of a gossip hungry Tony should he find out before you were ready. But then, this was Nat. Finding things out was a speciality of hers.

“I- well-” you stumbled, clearing your throat as you struggled to find an answer. The truth was you weren’t sure what this was yet. Sure, you’d gone out a few times, spent a few nights together, but it wasn’t as if you were about to sit him down and ask him to be your boyfriend, you were hardly a teenage schoolgirl. Besides, you still didn’t know what he wanted out of this. Maybe he just wanted a bit of fun, maybe you wanted more than him. You had settled on simply taking what you could get and not looking a gift horse in the mouth. But if Nat didn’t get an answer she would push him for an answer, and you weren’t sure you’d survive that avenue of interrogation. “We’re, I don’t know, going out?”

Smugness was altogether far too weak a word for the expression Nat held as she let you go, taking a step back. Her smirk seemed practically engraved into her and her eyes shone with the simple thought of ‘I was right’ blaring through. “About time,” she spoke softly.

“I- wait- what?” you stuttered in shock, not quite understanding what on earth she was on about. You had only been on talking terms for a few months now, and sure, you had instantly fallen into friendship at that moment, but it was hardly as if you’d been stringing things out.

“I thought he’d ask you out when we were at SHIELD,” she shrugged as if the sentence didn’t hold any importance at all. “Of course, he’s an idiot and told me to get fucked, but I knew you’d be good together.”

And that was that. With a nod and that self satisfied smirk still on her lips she left you to your thoughts, never saying another word about the budding relationship to you or anyone else since.

You were exhausted. The mission had gone far longer than expected, and you were now on your fifty-second hour of being awake and that was simply unacceptable. What made it worse still was the fact that the moment the quinjet had landed on the roof of the Avengers’ Tower, Tony had cheerfully grabbed you and Steve and dragged you towards the couch for ‘team movie night’. You had barely managed to stay awake for the flight back, let alone however long he had in mind for what you were sure would end up as a movie marathon. 

The moment you fell into the couch you knew you were doomed; it was simply too comfortable. With a loud sigh, Clint plonked himself down beside you, giving you a subtle wink and passing you a beer. Perhaps it wouldn’t be completely awful, you thought, waiting until the lights had dulled before snuggling into his side. It felt like only moments later that a loud scream woke you, your training going into action as you looked about for a threat. But there was nothing, no aliens or Hydra agents, not even a spider. No, Tony Stark had screamed because of a jump scare during the movie.

With a deep groan at the fact you had been woken, you decided it was a sign, you should just give in and go to bed, screw Tony and his ‘everyone has to stay’ crap, you needed your bed. Turning your head towards Clint, you found him already watching you with an amused grin, obviously trying very hard to not laugh at your suddenly awake state. 

“I’m going to bed,” you muttered just loudly enough for him to hear you over the movie.

With a simple nod of understanding, Clint offered you a sympathetic smile. “I’ll see you in the morning, ‘night.”

“Goodnight,” you smiled, taking advantage of the dark and leaning forwards to place a soft kiss against his lips before moving to shuffle your way off the couch. But the sound had stopped. Looking around you saw the movie had been paused by a wide eyed, slack jawed Tony Stark.

“What was that?” he asked loudly, drawing the rooms attention towards you as your cheeks reddened in embarrassment. Surely he hadn’t seen, it was just a little peck! 

“I was just saying I’m going to bed,” you answered in a small voice, hoping desperately he was simply calling you out on the fact you were talking and not the fact you had kissed the man you had been seeing in secret for months now.

“With a kiss?” Tony pushed, instantly crushing the small glimmer of hope you had within you. 

With a panicked look towards the far too relaxed man at your side you desperately looked around the room for someone who might actually help you out of your situation.

“It was just a friend thing,” Nat offered as she caught your pleading gaze, offering Tony a shrug. Giving you a sympathetic smile that told you she didn’t think she’d be able to get you out of this.

“So... do I get a goodnight kiss?” Tony pushed, excitement mixing with amusement as he threw you a playful kiss.

Your jaw clenched at the very thought of kissing him. Perhaps you could just pretend it was for a mission, you’d kissed targets before to get information, hell, you’d seduced your fair share of targets to get information, surely you could just give him a quick peck to keep your relationship a secret. With a forced smile, you relaxed the fist that had formed at the very thought and offered him a shrug. “I guess, we’re friends, right?”

A loud “Ha!” that sounded far too proud came from Tony as he moved towards you. Standing with the full awareness that everyone in the room was watching you with their own varying thoughts, you offered him a smile as he stopped right in front of you. It wasn’t until you were leaning forwards to place the world’s fastest peck on his lips that you felt it. An arm slipped its way in between you both and promptly pulled you back down onto the couch in an ungraceful plop.

Turning towards Clint with wide eyes, you gave him a pointed look as if to silently ask what the hell he was doing. But he wasn’t looking at you. His gaze was firmly on Tony, his brow furrowed as a glare practically burned into the billionaire’s face. It was only then that you noticed the way his jaw was clenched, his hands forming fists as one remained in front of you, the other curling menacingly on his lap.

“Clint?” you questioned quietly, wondering what the hell was happening. Surely he realised a little kiss wouldn’t mean anything, and it was only to keep your relationship a secret.

“No,” he spoke simply, his voice quiet as he continued to stare at Tony. 

“Aha!” Tony called out loudly, pumping his fist in the air. “I knew it! You’re dating, aren’t you? Cough up, Banner! Oh ho, this is brilliant!”

But as despite the mix of emotions swelling within you in that moment, Tony’s happiness was not an emotion you felt. Your secret was out. You had never questioned Clint on what he wanted, silently terrified that the fact your relationship or whatever this was hinged on the fact that it was a secret and therefore exciting to him. How long had Tony suspected? When on earth had he made a bet about it? What would Clint want now? Was it all over? Why was he so angry about the idea of Tony kissing you?

You were practically paralysed as the thoughts rushed through your mind, terrified that it was all over now. You didn’t even notice as Natasha practically ushered the rest of the team out, whispering not so subtle threats to ensure you had the room to yourselves. 

It wasn’t until Clint sighed next to you that you even looked up from the spot on the couch that you had practically burned a hole into from staring so long. “Babe?” he called out meekly, pausing just short of touching your arm as if worried he was no longer allowed to touch you.

Another sigh and he was leaning forwards, resting his forehead on his fists as he closed his eyes, clearly struggling with whatever was going through his mind. “I’m sorry,” he practically muttered. “I just- I don’t share well.”

A small laugh fell from your lips, surprising you as much as him, and you shook your head. It seemed the overwhelming combination of emotions had given way to simple bemusement as if you simply couldn’t grasp what was happening anymore. “You don’t share well” you repeated, giving him a look of utter disbelief. “Clint, in what world would you possibly think you’d share me with Stark?”

You could see the way his Adam's apple moved as he gulped in realisation, and it only made you roll your eyes. “Not that way, idiot. I’m not going to be shared with anyone let alone with Stark, I mean, ew. We don’t even know where he’s been.”

A small laugh slipped from his lips at that, and you couldn’t help but feel somewhat grateful that he no longer thought he would lose to Tony Stark of all people. But still you were anxious, anxious that this meant you were done, that he wouldn’t want to continue on with whatever it was you were now that the rest of the team knew. With a sigh of your own, you shuffled towards the edge of the couch, not sure you were able to face this just yet. Maybe you could just pretend nothing had happened, or just let him take the lead, see whether you still got your kiss with your coffee in the morning.

“I’m not, you know...” Clint trailed off, struggling to find the words he wanted. But it was enough to make you stop in your movements, looking over to him as he attempted to figure out his thoughts. “I’m not looking to date anyone else, I only want you.”

Your brow furrowed, attempting to figure out where he was coming from. Of course, it was nice to hear but- oh. Realisation came crashing down around you and you found yourself with a ridiculously giddy smile on your lips. “I only want you too.”

[gumnut-logic]

Yet more Rough as Bags

From here.

One day this may even get a title :D Many thanks to @scribbles97 for listening to my raving.

-o-o-o-

The quiet fell again and it was uncomfortable as their predicament reared its head again.

“What about you? Is Scott your first?” Kayo was eyeing her with challenge.

“What? I thought you knew everything about me.”

“I know a lot. But fair’s fair. Level playing field.”

Em had the urge to stick her tongue out at her friend. A second thought and she did.

The smirk that resulted was worth it.

“No, Scott is not my first relationship and you damn well know it.”

A shrug. “‘Convo’ to pass the time.”

Em rolled her eyes. “What specifics did you want to know?”

Her friend hesitated a moment and suddenly Em knew exactly what she was going to say before she said it. Her throat tightened. “No. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You don’t know what I’m going to ask.”

“You’re going to ask about Jim.”

Kayo didn’t confirm her suspicions, but that was confirmation in itself.

“Jim is out of the picture. You know that.”

“You were engaged, Em.”

“Yeah, well some things just aren’t meant to be forever.” She looked away, suddenly terrified the tightness in her throat would become something far more embarrassing. “Now who’s doing the interrogating?”

“Em-“

“Just...just leave it, please, Kayo. He broke it off and I don’t blame him. I was no longer the woman he loved and he had every right to call it quits. It’s all in the past and it can bloody well stay there.” A pause and a glance in the other woman’s direction. “Sorry.”

A hand squeezed her arm. “No. I’m the one who should be sorry. I should never have asked.”

Em swallowed and sucked in a breath. “No. No, you can ask. You have the right and I want you to ask. Is part of being friends. Just...not that.”

“Okay.” She could feel those green eyes on her. “But if you ever do want to talk about it, I’m willing to listen.”

Em looked at her sideways. “Okay. Thank-”

The door to their closet was suddenly thrust open. A large, hairy man reeking of half digested garlic blocked the view to the rest of the store.

“Found ya.”

-o-o-o-

“You’re what?!” He stared at Virgil, who was standing across from him in the sunken lounge. John hovered in the centre.

“I’m sorry, Scott.”

Em’s voice cut into him, but was overridden by Kayo’s professional report.

Virgil’s hands curled into fists at his sides, but he said nothing.

“We’re on our way. John is speaking with the GDF and local police. We will get you out of there.” The thought of the two of them, stuck in a closet with gunmen running around...his own fists clenched.

Em’s breath hitched. “You stay safe, Scott. You hear me?”

A pause. “You do the same.” Please be safe.

“I plan to. We both do. Don’t do anything stupid, flyboy.”

“No promises.” He caught John’s eye and the comms were muted. “Keep that line open, John. I want to hear everything.” He turned to Virgil. Kayo was injured. Not seriously, but he’d have to watch his brother. “You okay to do this?”

The brown gaze that hit him glared. “Stupid question.”

A blink. His brother was right. Stupid question.

“Okay, we’ll go together in Thunderbird Two. John, I need a map of the building, all points of access. See if you can hack into the perpetrators’ communications. Liaise with the GDF. I doubt they will enjoy our presence, but they will just have to put up with it.” A breath. “Thunderbirds are go.”

It wasn’t often Scott rode co-pilot with Virgil and, to be honest, he really wished he could take his ‘bird. He felt naked without her. But this was definitely a job for the green behemoth. They had enough speed to get across the small expanse of ocean between Tracy Island and New Zealand, and Scott had no doubt that Virgil had enough equipment on board to tear the building apart if they needed to.

Didn’t stop Scott from grabbing a couple of jetpacks and extra grapple packs on the way down to his brother’s ‘bird.

It wasn’t until TB2 was spinning in her hanger going through her launch sequence that the expected call from Colonel Casey was transferred down from TB5.

“Scott, what the hell are you doing? This is a local police matter.”

“I’m sorry, Colonel, but International Rescue personnel are trapped in that building and I’m planning on getting them out.”

“How exactly? You are a rescue organisation. An unarmed rescue organisation.” And her glare was furious enough to throw that statement into doubt. “You have no jurisdiction and will do little more than hamper the plans of those who do.” She drew a breath. “Scott, I know Kayo is important.” Her gaze flickered to Virgil, whose determined expression was ignoring her as he taxied his bird onto her launch platform. “But please, leave this to the local authorities.”

“I’m sorry, Colonel. I can’t sit out on this one.” And he doubted he could hold his brother back. “You have my guarantee that we will liaise with the local authorities.”

“Scott-“

But it was at that moment Virgil activated the rear thrusters and the roar and sudden acceleration into the air drowned her out.

“Thunderbird Two out.”

The great ship clawed into the sky, Virgil banking her into a turn as soon as her flight was stable. Neither brother said a thing. Neither felt like talking. Wellington was minutes away.

“So how long have you known Virgil?” Em’s voice echoed through the cabin and it took Scott a split second to remember that he had asked John to keep the line open.

When Kayo answered, Scott couldn’t help but noticed Virgil’s grip tighten on the yoke.

“Eight. I was eight.”

It became very apparent, very quickly that they were listening in on a private conversation.

“Scott...we should...” Virgil was frowning.

“I...” He wanted to keep it open to keep tabs on what was happening.

“We should let them know we can hear them.” His brother’s voice was firm.

“The two bullet wounds in his back.” Em’s voice was pained.

Scott swallowed.

“Scott.”

He reached for the comline.

“What about you?”

“Huh?”

“When did you realise it was mutual?”

“Oh, uh, Scott just...“

His hand hesitated as Em spilled forth what attracted her to him. At first he smiled, followed by a flush of heat as Virgil turned and frowned at him.

Then Em said she was only half a woman.

Em...

Kayo’s cutting words beat him to it.

And they were talking about Virgil.

“Scott, this isn’t right.” Virgil’s voice was pained.

“I know.”

“Then do something about it. Or I will.” Virgil reached for the control.

“First serious relationship. Not my first sexual encounter.”

His hand froze. “Shit.” It came out between his teeth.

“Why Virgil?”

Scott stared at his brother.

“Out of all five brothers and every other person on this planet, why Virgil? You don’t have to answer...”

“No. I just thought the answer was obvious. He’s Virgil.”

“Really? Nothing in particular? You two are very different people.”

“As are you and Scott. Do you have a favourite aspect  of your ‘flyboy’?”

It was like watching a car crash. He didn’t want to listen, but couldn’t not.

“I like his arms, his hands and those eyes of his are stunning, but I have to say his passionate care attracted me the most. He will do anything for you, for Virgil, for his family. But even more, he will spread his wings to protect strangers. He’s smart, clever, commanding, a damn hero, and I admire him, but he also makes me laugh, and sometimes I need that more than anything else.”

As Wellington appeared on the horizon, he turned to look at Virgil. His brother was flushed, his lips thin as he stared out the windscreen, his knuckles white on the yoke.

“Virgil looks after me.”

His brother’s eyes closed for a moment.

“He’s an idiot. A self sacrificing heroic idiot. An adorable idiot who hates having his hair mussed, who is so dopey before his morning coffee, he has been known to put his shirt on backwards and then wonder why it is hard to button up. He’s ambidextrous at EVERYTHING. He’s a soppy, sentimental, artistic softie who can bench press half the family. And for some reason all of his own, he decided he loved me.”

“He’s Virgil.”

There was no way Scott was going to dare comment on that. Kayo knew his brother. God, she did. If he smiled at all, it was all internal. There was no blood in his brother’s knuckles at all.

“Wellington Air Control, this is Thunderbird Two on approach. Emergency in Wellington central, permission to approach. Situation urgent.” Virgil Tracy, ever the professional, spun off coordinates ignoring the conversation between the two women still echoing through the cockpit.

“Thunderbird Two, Wellington Air Control. Permission granted. International Rescue permit protocol identified and confirmed. The sky is clear, you may proceed.”

“Thank you, Wellington. Will keep advised.”

“Roger, Thunderbird Two.”

Ocean turned into mountains and then houses as the huge plane dipped below the skimpy cloud cover and targeted Wellington’s central business district.

“No, Scott is not my first relationship and you damn well know it.”

Scott climbed out of his seat as Virgil kicked in VTOL as he flew between skyscrapers bringing his ‘bird to a hover beside the building entrapping his fiancé.

“You’re going to ask about Jim.”

Scott froze.

“Jim is out of the picture. You know that.”

“You were engaged, Em.”

“Yeah, well some things just aren’t meant to be forever.” A pause. “Now who’s doing the interrogating?”

“Em-“

“Just...just leave it, please, Kayo. He broke it off and I don’t blame him. I was no longer the woman he loved and he had every right to call it quits. It’s all in the past and it can bloody well stay there.”

Jim? Engaged? Em...

“Scott?” Virgil had grabbed his arm.

Blink. “We need to get down there.”

“Two will need to hover. There is nowhere nearby to put her down and I want her within reach.” Virgil hit his comms. “John, could you take Two?”

Their brother confirmed and all the controls flashed into the blue of auto.

A sudden gasp over the comline and Scott spun back to the dash. A male voice. “Found ya.”

Shit.

Virgil didn’t need prompting.

They moved.

-o-o-o-

Em had never seen Kayo move so fast.

The bleeding arm was ripped from her grasp and her friend leapt into a spin, her foot meeting yellow teeth before Em had had a chance to draw in a breath. Her friend followed through with a punch that floored the man.

A moment. Kayo’s chest heaved. Silence.

A click of metal on metal and a gun appeared in the doorway. “My, you are what they say you are.”

Kayo didn’t blink. Her arm came up from below, grabbed the gun and she twisted her body, drawing the weedy man from the shadows. His arm creaked and he snarled.

She slammed his wrist against the doorjamb and followed through with a kick which he caught in his gut, expelling all the air from his lungs.

The gun dropped to the floor.

A wrench and Kayo had his arm behind his back and his face in the carpet. “Who are you?”

Em eyed the gun and reached for it.

A shadow grabbed a fist full of her hair and pulled. The pain was so unexpected, she cried out. The gun was whisked from her sight.

“Now, now, you know you shouldn’t play with guns.”

Her head was bent backwards and she got an eyeful of a dark-haired man wearing a grey suit. His hair was greased back, a stud earring sparkled in one earlobe. His lips were pink and glistened in the fluorescent lighting. They split to form a grin. Teeth far too white to be real and an equally pink tongue running across them.

A split second of sickening horror and Em reacted.

She had no movement below her waist, but her harness extended above that and gave her leverage. She grabbed the fist in her hair with both hands and pivoted just below her ribcage, bringing her hoverscoot up in harsh pendulum into his gut.

Her nails dug into his hand and he yelled.

Momentary freedom as he let go.

Em gunned her hoverjets and darted out of reach, just as Kayo moved in on him, Her fist fixing those perfect teeth forever. He stumbled into the wall. Her friend didn’t stop, bringing her foot around to finish the job.

A gun fired.

Em didn’t see where it came from, but there was a splatter of blood on the floor and her friend went down hard.

“Kayo!”

She moved in and came face to face with a smoking barrel.

“Now, do I have to shoot you, too?”

A hard face, blue eyes, blond hair, female. “Quite impressive. Three of my men and you are both still standing.” She eyed Em’s hoverscoot. “In a manner of speaking.” Thinned lips and an arched eyebrow. “Oh well, easy fixed.”

A blur of motion and a fist slammed into the side of Em’s face.

Pain and she blacked out.

-o-o-o-

[liv-andletdie]

PUPPY LOVE

Author: liv-andletdie Rating: Teen and up Pairing: TP Zelink Modern AU Notes: Link is a vet at Ordon Veterinary surgery. Zelda is an Aristocrat with a dog who is sick… surprisingly often. Though nothing seems to be wrong with them

Available on Ao3

Chapter 7: The Reunion

Days at the surgery were, in a word, tedious. Depending on the time the building could be flooded with a never ending stream of patients. Cats, dogs, mice, hamsters, birds, gerbils, even reptiles were all frequent visitors to the small country clinic. And as such this made work very difficult for the small team of veterinarians who worked there. Some days it would a be a challenge to get everyone seen and make it through the day without cat scratches or pecks from annoyed parrots. 

And then you had some days where it seemed like nothing happened, like the goddesses had met up for tea and decided that,“No, Ordon shall not face any great medical disaster with its animals today,” and given everyone the day off. Days where the only people to enter the building were delivery men and staff returning from their lunch break.

Link hated the quiet days.

He’d never normally hated them. Sure, he used to get a little restless with nothing to do, but he’d never go so far as to say he hated them. Mild dislike yes, but never hate.

But then, he supposed, he’d never normally had the need to distract himself as much.

Every free second was spent thinking about Her. The way she walked, the way she talked, the perfect curl of her smile, the dazzling blue of her eyes! He’d half expected himself to be over her by now. Iit had been four months since Zelda Harkinian was last in town, and yet his every waking moment was devoted to wondering about her, and wondering if she was thinking about him too.

He wanted to blame Rusl. The elder vet had put that ridiculous mantra in his head, There’s always a chance, even if that chance grew less and less with each turn of the minute hand that he was currently staring at.

Link was sitting in the waiting room, his white coat thrown over one of the chairs as he fixed his eye on the clock. The monotonous ticking marked the slow march of the day. Half past four, only three and a half hours left to go. In the corner of the room Ilia sat at her desk, methodically reading through her coursework, the sound of paper turning breezed through the air in rhythm with the never ending thud of the clock. It would have been almost peaceful if it hadn’t been so warm.

“I thought you had a summer break?” Link asked, his voice shattering the fragile silence of the waiting room. He watched Ilia jump, accidentally flinging her pen up in the air. She scrambled to try and catch it, wincing as it hit of the rim of her mug and fell to the floor.

“I do,” she huffed, leaning down to rescue her pen. “But there’s nothing wrong with trying to keep my mind sharp. Better than just sitting around in this heat”

Summers in Ordon were known for their warmth. A damp humid air from Faron rolling across the winds, only made worse by the unrelenting sun up above. The storms offered little respite from the omnipresent heat, only really clearing the air for a day or two until the Faron winds choked them once more.

“I don’t know how you can concentrate,” he muttered, tugging at the collar of his shirt. He’d already unbuttoned the top two buttons, unbuttoning the third would just make him look silly. Well… sillier than he already did. The heat had no doubt turned his cheeks and ears bright pink.

“I can’t,” Ilia sighed. A soft thud indicated that she’d shut her book, apparently giving up on studying for the time being. Link would have laughed if he didn’t feel so lethargic, doing nothing was exhausting. At least I don’t live in Gerudo, he thought as he wiped a hand across his brow, I don’t think I could handle this kinda heat all year round. The Gerudo desert would be unbearable right now, but maybe Castleton would be better.

He wondered how hot it got in Castleton. Would the pavements sizzle? Would the smell of exhaust hang heavy in the air? Would people flock to the park in their lunch breaks? Would Zelda’s office have functioning AC?

Zelda… how was she dealing with the summer heat?

Tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling, Link let out a mournful sigh, all air leaving his lungs in a defeated rush. He was doing it again, thinking about her. He needed to stop otherwise he was going to drive himself mad. Zelda was gone and there was nothing he could do to change that.

“What’cha thinkin bout?” Ilia mumbled, her voice pulling him from his thoughts. He turned his head to look at her, taking in the way she slumped over the desk, her cheek resting in her palm while she fanned herself with a pamphlet on, what looked like, deworming cats and dogs.

“Nothin,” he lied, eyes turning back to the clock on the wall. Four fortyfive. How has it only been fifteen minutes?

“You’re not thinking about Zelda again are you?” Ilia sighed softly, the arm holding her makeshift fan landing against the desk. She looked as tired as he felt, shoulders sagging and eyes drooping. Even the curl of her hair seemed to have given up the ghost as it hung against her neck.

“Why would I be thinking about Zelda?” he scoffed, trying not to choke on his sarcasm.

“Because you’ve got the biggest crush on her in the history of Hyrule,” Ilia huffed. It wasn’t a secret. At this point practically everyone in Ordon knew of Link’s feelings towards the brunette heiress. They’d all agreed it was a damn shame to see him so heartsick, some even going as far as to call it cruel. Link disagreed with that; afterall, it wasn’t Zelda’s fault that he’d fallen for her as hard as he had. “Honestly Link...it’s been months. I don’t th-”

“I know,” He cut in, wincing at the acid in his tone. “I’m sorry, Ilia… I just… I know it’s been ...I can’t stop wondering...” Where would I be if she’d never left?

Ilia pushed herself back in her chair, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth. “I know,” she sighed, fingers tugging at the hem of her T-shirt. “I know, Link, I do. But maybe it is time to move on. Get out there, meet someone new”

Link sighed. She was only trying to help, he knew that, but the idea of going out and trying to find someone else to fall for… it all felt rather empty. Though he couldn’t bring himself to admit this to Ila. He saw the way she looked at him, worry causing her shoulders to go tense, a false smile always plastered to her lips. She just wanted him to be happy.

Closing his eyes, Link let his head fall back against the chair. All energy leaving from his body with a deep and tired sigh. “Maybe it is,” he murmured, trying not to notice how heavy Ilia’s silence felt now.

Quiet filled the air once more, the repeated ticking of the clock seeping into the spaces left by the absence of  conversation. Outside the sun beat down against the dried earth filling the room with a blazing heat. Not for the first time that day, Link wondered if this was what the evil realm was like.

His wondering was halted when Ilia gave a loud sigh from across the room, throwing her makeshift fan at the desk with a ferocity that he’d never seen from her before. “How does Rusl do it?!” She cried, red faced from exertion.

Rusl was one of the lucky few who rarely seemed affected by the heat. Every year the Faron winds would blow and every year the elder vet appeared to ignore them. It was one of the great unsolved mysteries in the surgery as to how he managed to accomplish such a feat (along with “who’s sandwich is that in the fridge?” and “why are there never any gummy worms in the vending machine”) Link’s money was on the theory that Rusl was part Goron and was therefore used to the heat, Ilia didn’t seem to agree.

“You know my theory,” he sighed running a hand through his hair.

Ilia ignored him, pushing herself away from the desk. “I’m gonna go find a fan,” she declared “Watch the desk for me? I doubt anyone’s gonna show up but, y'know, just in case.”

Link gave a small nod of his head, watching as Ilia fled down the staff corridor. With a sigh he pushed himself from his seat, grimacing at the feel of sweat rolling down his spine.

The desk was placed right in front of the door, open and vulnerable to the blistering sun. No wonder Ilia was so uncomfortable, he thought reaching a hand up to tug at his collar. It was much warmer in this part of the room. He hoped she’d be back soon as he dropped into her chair, he didn’t think he could stand sitting in the sun for too long.

Now I just need to find something to do.

There was only three hours left of work and Link doubted that anyone would show up in that time. Five pm wasn’t exactly their most active hour at the best of times, let alone on days where nothing happened. Running a hand through his hair, Link searched the desk for something to do. It would be better to keep busy he reasoned as he rifled through the drawers, maybe he’d find something interesting?

His heart sank at the sight of paper, bills, and a bag of hard candy that had gone sticky. Nothing he could use to entertain himself! Well… he could make a paper airplane? It had been years since he’d last made one but he was sure he could figure it out if he had enough time. But then again… Ilia probably needed the paper for something, he couldn’t just use it all up without asking.

Resigned to boredom, Link gave the drawer a sharp kick. It made an almighty thud as it collided with the desk, slamming shut and then opening again from the force. He could feel his frustration grow the longer he sat in the sun. It seemed that everything was going wrong, he couldn’t even kick a drawer back into place without having that backfire!

Link debated just leaving the drawer open. If it didn’t want to close that wasn’t his problem, and there was no way he was going to lower himself to the level of disobedient furniture! He wasn’t going to fight with a desk, he was not! He refused! Why should he get down on his knees to close a stubborn drawer when a kick would have sufficed? It was unnatural, the desk was getting ideas above its station if it thought it could treat him this way.

I’m going mad, he thought sliding to his knees under the desk. He pulled the drawer open fully to inspect it, frowning at the sight of the sticky candies littered against the bills and papers. Suddenly every complaint Ilia had ever made about ants made sense, if this was how she stored her sweets no wonder she was popular with the insects. Swallowing his discomfort, Link began sweeping the candies back into their bag. He really needed to have a word with Ilia about how she organised her desk drawers.

“Hello?” A voice called out, musical, romantic, and achingly familiar. “Is there anyone there?”

Link jumped, electricity arcing through his body with every word that passed the strangers lips. Power charged through his legs and he rushed to stand up, the stubborn drawer and the disgusting candy all but forgotten to his frantic mind. Pushing himself upwards with all his might, Link tried to hold back a yelp as his head cracked against the underside of the desk.

Smooth one, Wolfe, he thought, a hand pressed against the steadily growing lump on his scalp, his eyes shut tight at the pain. From the otherside of the desk he heard the voice again, beautiful and soft and tainted with worry. “Oh my goodness! Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Link breathed, standing up slowly this time to preserve his remaining brain cells. “My dignity took the worst blow.”

The laugh that followed was nothing less than magic, a pure symphony. Wonderful lilting notes hung in the air around him as he straightened, soothing his injuries and his pride. He could listen to that laugh all day and never get tired of it. He eased his eyes open, trying to find the source of such an enchanting giggle, and his heart stopped.

He knew the voice was familiar, why it caused such a powerful reaction in him. He’d heard it before, he’d listened to it in his dreams, he’d spent months replaying the last words she’d ever said to him. He’d recognize her voice anywhere.

She stood in front of him, brown hair piled in a messy bun at the back of her head, her face and neck flushed pink with the summer heat. At her side sat a large husky.

Zelda was back.

“H-hi,” he gasped, suddenly lost for breath. It felt like all the air in the world had vanished, leaving him floundering like a fish out of water.

“Hi,” she sighed, a heart stopping smile curling over her lips. Screw suffocating, he felt like he was drowning! This couldn’t be real, there was no way! The heat had finally gotten to him, he’d hit his head to hard, he’d fallen asleep and this was all just a dream.

“How have you been, Link?” She asked and he wanted to faint. She was here, right in front of him!

“Swell,” he lied. “Just...great.” He could feel his cheeks begin to ache from how wide he was smiling. “A-and you? How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been good,” She said, nodding a little too enthusiastically. “Busy...work’s been a little frantic”

“Yeah,” he breathed lamely. Why was it so difficult to talk around her? She was just a person it shouldn’t be so hard to just open his mouth and make conversation like a normal person! Comeon, Link. Think! get back on track. “What uhh..what brings you here? Is Naru okay? What’s up?” Perfect.

“Oh! No, she’s...she’s fine.” Zelda started, her eyes flashing quickly to the Husky at her feet. Naru sat on the ground, her tongue lolling out of her mouth as she panted through the heat. “She’s good there’s nothing wrong with her. I just thought that...it’d be a good idea to get her checked over just in case. I mean what with the… heat…” Zelda trailed off, lifting a hand to pull at the messy bun at the back of her neck. She looked… nervous? “I-I can come back later if now’s not a good time”

Link gave the room a quick glance. He took in the still chairs resting in the sunshine, the gentle and never ending tick-tocking of the clock, the fine dust motes floating in the air around them illuminated only briefly before fading away again. It was utterly devoid of life, save for the three of them. Ilia hadn’t even returned yet.

“Now’s fine,” He practically cried as he moved away from behind the desk. “Now’s a great time. Examination room three is open, I’ll take you in there…” The double entendre fell from his lips I’ll take you in examination room three, come on, Link be subtle at least! “I didn’t mean like… I’ll just show you the way”

Link wasn’t sure but he thought he saw a blush rise across Zelda’s cheeks, the already pink skin turning rosy as he moved past her towards the chairs to collect his coat. He’d rather not wear it in such warm weather, but it was always best to appear professional. Biting back a grimace he tugged it over his shoulders before ushering Zelda towards the small examination room.

Pushing open the door Link revealed the modest space. A long metal table took up most of the room, behind it sat a series of cabinets, the tops littered with jars filled with cotton and boxes of latex gloves. A small sink sat at the furthest end from the door, a small trash can placed beneath it. An old computer sat in the corner, it’s screen lighting up as Link pushed at keys to wake it up. With one hand he directed Zelda to sit in the only chair in the room whilst he pulled up a small plastic stool.

“Right, so, just a couple of routine questions,” He started, pulling up Naru’s medical charts.

“Lay them on me,” Zelda smirked, making herself comfortable in her seat. Naru curled around her legs, the strange and unfamiliar environment making her feel anxious.

“Have there been any changes to her eating or drinking habits?”

“No.”

“Good, any weight gain or-”

A sharp howl cut through the air, halting Link in his tracks. He saw Zelda flash him an apologetic look as she reached down to try and calm the animal. “I’m sorry, I know it’s impolite but I gotta ask,” Link continued, earning a smile from Zelda that made his chest feel tight. Ignoring the feeling he asked again, “Any weight gain or loss?”

“No,” she giggled, her hand scratching behind Naru’s ears.

“She up to date on her vaccines?”

“Yes, she got her boosters just last month.”

“Any coughing or Diarrhea?”

“No, thank goodness.”

“Balance issues?”

“Steady as a rock.”

“Excellent, let’s get her up on the table.”

Naru was not a fan of being lifted it seemed as Link wrapped his arms under her. She squirmed in his grasp, letting out another howl as she did so. Zelda stood to the side, muttering apologies and assurances that normally she’s much more well behaved, offering a hand to help calm or distract the wriggling canine. Eventually the two got her on the table, Naru letting out an indignant whine as her claws made contact with the cool steel surface.

Link began with checking her vitals, starting with her pulse and respiration rate before moving onto her temperature (and apologising profusely while he did so) all the while rolling back and forth on his stool between the computer and Naru.

“Vital signs are good,” he murmured half to himself as he stared at the screen. He could hear Zelda behind him blow kisses to her furry friend, the mental image causing him to smile. How was it that she was able to make him feel so happy with the simplest of actions?

Rolling back to the husky, Link started to conduct his physical examination. Naru seemed calmer than she had before, probably soothed by Zelda’s kisses and pats. He watched as she tilted her chin skyward, bright blue eyes sliding shut in pleasure as Zelda scratched at her neck, her tail creating a steady drumbeat against the table.

“I take it she ain’t a huge fan of vets,” he joked, reaching his own hands forward to press against Naru’s abdomen.

“Just the examination rooms,” Zelda confirmed as she pulled her hands back to her lap. “This is the fastest I’ve gotten her to calm down though, there must be something in the room that’s putting her at ease.”

“Could be the wallpaper?” Link snorted jerking his head towards the garish blue and green diagonal stripes that decorated the room. Zelda rolled her eyes at him but she laughed, rewarding him with another heart stopping smile.

Swallowing he turned back to the task at hand. Pulling a stethoscope from the wall behind him, he began listening to Naru’s heart and breathing. She gave a quick twitch at the feel of cold metal against her ribs, blue eyes snapping open to glare at him silently. shrugging his shoulders in a half hearted apology, Link couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up at his throat.

Across from him, Zelda sat back in her chair. She’d taken the messy bun out of her hair, running through the strands with her fingers to tidy them. Naru’s check up was forgotten as he watched her, nimble fingers pulling the hair into a perfect plait, a serene expression on her face.

He knew he’d missed her, the entirety of Ordon knew that he’d missed her! He’d thought about nothing but her for the past four months, just praying he’d get the chance to see her one last time. Having her here, now, in front of him, he hadn’t realized how desperate he’d been for that prayer to be answered.

“It’s nice to see you again,” he said, so quiet he wasn’t even sure that he’d said the words out loud. Zelda’s eyes turned towards him, the beginnings of a blush painting her cheeks and ears a light pink.

“Well…” she swallowed, hands dropping to her lap. He watched as she clutched at the fabric of her skirt, her knuckles going a bright white. She tilted her head towards Naru on the table. “She missed you”

“I wasn’t talking to the dog.”

Zelda's eyes grew wide, cheeks turning scarlet and lips parting in a quiet, surprised gasp as she lifted her eyes to his. All air seemed to rush from her lungs and for a moment Link was scared that she was going to faint or curse him out. But instead she seemed to gather herself, eyelashes fluttering as she searched for something to focus on that wasn’t him. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips and Link felt his chest grow hot.

“It’s nice to see you again too,” She’d gone bright red, her nerves masterfully hidden as she gazed up at him through her lashes. The room seemed to grow warmer but he couldn’t bring himself to care, her words were echoing around his head like the chimes of a cymbal. Maybe… just maybe, she’d missed him as much as had missed her?

Naru’s sharp, annoyed, howl wrang through the air, shattering the moment and drawing his attention back to her and the stethoscope  still pressed against her ribs. Fighting back the rising flush of embarrassment he felt at being called out by a husky, Link quickly returned to his work as he examined her eyes, teeth, and ears. Once he was satisfied that she was alright, Link pulled his stool over the computer.

“Naru looks fine,” he murmured, hands moving across the keys. “She’s recovered well from that cold she had a couple months back, so that’s good. As for dealing with the heat I’d recommend just brushing her a whole lot to get rid of any excess fur, but don’t trim her. Also, if you’ve got a pond in your garden she might like to swim in that to keep cool? A kiddie pool would also work. I actually knew a guy who’d freeze fruit for his dog so she could play with it. Just took an old ice cream tub and filled with water with an apple in it”

“Thank you,Link -  uh Doctor Wolfe.” He watched, out of the corner of his eye, as she showered Naru with affection. Pressing loving kisses against her forehead and gentle scratches under her chin and ears.

“Just doing my job,” he sighed, as he shut the computer down. She turned to him, something shining in her royal blue eyes that made him weak at the knees. It really was good to see her again. “I’ll walk you back to the desk.”

<><><>

The lowering sun cast a deep orange light over the waiting room. Tall shadows of the trees outside curled over the room through the windows like the cracks in a vase. The clock continued it’s resolute march and somewhere nearby an electric fan whirred, pulling and pushing the heavy air around the space.

“How long have you been back in Ordon?” Link asked, holding the door open for Zelda and Naru to walk past. Her perfume tickled his nose as she got close, lingering in the back of his throat. The scent of fresh roses following in the air after her.

“Not long, I just got back really,” she said, pulling her braid over her shoulder. “I’ve not even been up to the estate yet, I just... came straight here.”

“Worried about Naru?”

“No...I…” She trailed off, a hand coming up to tug on her braid, a nervous smile curling over her lips. “I just wanted to come here first”

It was impossible to hold back the goofy, idiotic, grin that plastered itself across his face. Even the most miserable of people would have failed when faced with the knowledge that Zelda Harkinian had wanted to get to the surgery before anything else. He’d managed to compose himself earlier when she had said that it was nice to see him again, but she was quickly breaking down his defences. He’d be a dribbling pile of nerves by the time she left and all she had to do was smile at him!

Turning towards the desk, in an attempt to at least hide his grin, Link began drawing up her bill. The fan that Ilia had placed on the desk only worked to increase his discomfort, blowing hot air directly into his face as he tried to work. The secretary herself, however, was nowhere to be seen. A small yellow note stuck to the computer monitor was the only clue to her whereabouts.

Uli’s stuck at the bakery, Rusl’s at the ranch. I had to take Colin to cricket club, desk is all yours. -Ilia x P.s. don’t root around my stuff!

Suppressing the urge to rub his eyes, he fished a pen out of the pot she kept there to write his reply.

Clean your candy. Ants love it, I don’t. -L P.s. the fan is useless

“That’s forty five ruppees for the consultation. No other charge because she’s a perfectly healthy dog.” He held the card reader out towards Zelda, looking away as she typed in her pin. He could hear the sound of Naru’s tail thumping against the floor in time with the clock on the wall in the otherwise silent room.

“How long are you in Ordon for?” he asked, pulling back the reader as it began to print the receipt. He’d been aiming to break the silence before it got too daunting, to make casual conversation like two friends do. And yet his mind had leapt to the first question he’d wanted to ask. He felt the tops of his ears grow warm as he handed her card back to her. No turning back now.

“I’m here for a month,” she explained, seemingly not noticing his sudden nerves. She tucked her card back into her purse. “I’m taking a break from work for a little bit.”

“Cool, cool.” Now what? He’d hit a dead end. Cool wasn’t a way to continue a conversation, nor a way to end one properly. He couldn’t just stop talking, but then what should he say? You’re gonna love the weather? No, he doubted anyone could love this weather. She might take it as sarcastic, but what if she didn’t? Then he’d have to explain himself and that would be awkward. Not to mention that it was a pessimistic statement to make for no reason! Talking about the weather was off the table. Any plans? might be a good choice. Unless she thought he was asking her out… would that be such a bad thing? He could ask her out right now! It’d be easy, just say Well if you’re here for a month do you wanna hang out sometime? There was nothing stopping him! That’s it! Link decided I’m going to ask her out.

“We might see each other around.”

You coward.

“We might,.” She agreed, pulling her hand bag up higher to her shoulder. He couldn’t tell, and he didn’t want to assume anything but… she seemed disappointed. “It was nice seeing you again.”

“You too,” idiot! idiot! idiot! “Take care.” By Farore, he was stupid! Saying goodbye to her now? Well she probably had somewhere to be, shopping to do or something. There’d been no one at the estate so she’d need to air it out and clean the sheets maybe. He couldn’t keep her here any longer than he already had. He was a veterinarian, he’d done his job, she had no reason to stick around.  

“I will,” She smiled, taking a step backwards towards the door. She was almost hesitant.

Realistically, when am I gonna run into her again? I don’t even have her number.

“Uh, wait...”

She stopped. Bright, royal blue, eyes staring at him. The whole situation was vaguely familiar, only this time they were standing in a sweltering waiting room instead of her driveway under freezing cold rain. Back then, all he’d wanted was for her to stay. That wasn’t an issue now, she was staying albeit only for a few weeks. But a few weeks would have to be enough time.  

“Yes?”

Screw half-cooked Ramen. It was now or never.

“Would you… I mean it’s… there’s a… do you wanna get coffee sometime?” He choked. He’d envisioned this moment before, except he hadn’t been stumbling over his words and he’d swept her off of her feet in a display so romantic that cheesy romcom movies would look tame in comparison. But he’d done it now, for better or worse. He couldn’t even look at her, his eyes staring at the pen he’d left lying out on the desk. She was probably going to say no, maybe she’d let him down gently if he was lucky.

“I’d love to.”

Wait, what? His heart skipped a beat in his chest. Had she just… she’d said… she wanted too…

“Great. Great!  I’ll… uhh give you my number,” He began patting down his pockets in a frenzy, searching desperately for his phone. His mind and heart still reeling from the revelation that Zelda-Goddess-Damned-Harkinian had just said yes to going on a date with him. Only one problem remained… his phone was charging in the break room. Resisting the urge to slam his head against the desk he continued.  “I don’t...I don’t have my phone with me.  Uhh I could run back and-”

Zelda reached forward faster than he could comprehend, a hand expertly wrapping around his forearm, keeping him still as she pushed up his shirt sleeve. He watched breathless as she grabbed the pen from the desk and began writing on his skin in short, elegant, cursive.

0145 712598 - Miss Harkinian x

“You’ve got my number,” She breathed, a coquettish grin pulling at her lips. Link felt faint at the sight of her smile and the feel of her hand on his arm, her thumb tracing small circles over his skin.

“I do,” He said dumbly, his heart kicking back into gear at the realization. “I have your number so I’ll call you and then we can arrange something.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Her smile is gonna be the death of me, he thought as she pulled away. But damn, what a way to go. Zelda’s hand dropped from his arm, her attention drawn towards Naru as she gave a low howl.

“I gotta get her home,” Zelda giggled, leaning down to pat her husky on the nose. “I’ll hear from you later?”

“Absolutely,” He gasped, nodding his head so fast he was sure he was going to do himself an injury. “You’ll hear from me later, 100%.”

“Goodbye, Link,” she sighed, her lip caught between her teeth in a way that made his heart race.

“Bye, Zelda.

And just like that she was gone, walking out of the door, her husky in tow. He watched her till he couldn’t see her anymore,till she was nothing but a spec on the horizon, till the setting sun began to shine in his eyes and the clock struck the hour. Pushing away from the desk, he ran to the break room with all the power he could muster.

His phone was right where he’d left it, plugged in next to the toaster of all things. He practically ripped it from the wall in his haste. Adrenaline was rushing through his veins as he punched her number in, causing his whole body to shake with anticipation. Pressing the phone against his ear he waited, counting the rings until she picked up.

Ring ring

Ring ring

Ring ring

It was torture. Two seconds felt like five hours. He couldn’t stop moving, constantly tapping his feet against the floor. He thought he was going to explode until he heard her voice, sweet and melodious, echo down the phone line.

“Hello, Zelda Harkinian speaking.How can I help you?”

“Hi, yeah, I’m Doctor Link Wolfe with the Ordon veterinary surgery. I was wondering if you were free this friday?”

~Fin~

<><><>

The final chapter? What? no? Yes. This marks the end of the FIRST installment of Puppy Love. I'll be taking a short break after this but when I'm back I'll be starting work on the Puppy Love Short stories and lots of new fics as well. I'll write a sappier Authors note for the Epilogue which I'll be posting up in a week I promise haha

Massive Thanks to @zeldasdiaries/ @missdellarosa, @andelynk, and @electragoob for helping me so much during this process. I couldn't have done it without them. And thank you all so much for sticking by me through this, I'm so grateful to each and every one of you

[maylovexhs]

FETISH - PART 1

Author’s Note: Obviously inspired by Selena Gomez’s song Fetish. Part 2 is coming soon. Enjoy loves! xxx M

Masterlist

Take it or leave it

Baby take it or leave it

But I know you won't leave it

'Cause I know that you need it

Parties. They were fun. They were an occasion to meet people at. Hook up with people. Talk with friends. Recently, they became more fun than usual. Mostly for one reason. More precisely, one person. Y/N.

Y/N. How do I begin to describe her? She was a friend. Correction: she was a friend who I had a fling with. A recent fling with until she called it off. I didn’t blame her to why she done that. I understood her. The game between us tired her out. The constant saying goodbye and then coming back to each other became exhausting. Usually those moments occurred at parties, which was why it was more fun. I needed to go to parties. They became the only excuse for me to see and talk to her. To get back with her, to be more exact.

The elevator doors opened. I stepped in. I pressed the button that had a three painted on it. The doors were about to close until a woman quickly got in. Not a woman. Y/N.

I smirked. This was better than what I planned already.

“Oh hey” She greeted me, blushing and smiling.

“Hi” I smiled to her back.

“I guess we’re both fashionably late” She joked.

“We are” I said to her.

Unh, look in the mirror

When I look in the mirror

Baby I see it clearer

Why you wanna be nearer

I stared at her reflection in the elevator’s mirror. She was wearing the same amount of makeup I usually saw her in. Not too much, but enough to highlight her features. Her thin eyeliner showed off her hypnotizing eyes. Her dark red lips gave her a sophisticated look. Her straighten hair matched her medium length sleek black dress.

I looked to both of our reflections in the mirror. We did look great together. All the more reason why I wanted to be with her. I grinned at her.

“What?” She asked me. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“No reason” I said, looking away. “Nothing”

*Y/N’S POV*

I'm not surprised

I sympathize, ah

I can't deny

Your appetite, ah

“Nothing?” I asked him, not believing him at all. “Looks like something”

“Does it?” Harry asked, smirking at me.

I wasn’t surprised that Harry stared at me. In fact, I sympathized with him. I knew he felt bitter over me ending our fling but I had to. I couldn’t bear having to change my mind again to be a stubborn person like him. It become exhausting. I still felt a little sorrow. We had a great fling and it ran its course. Besides, having sex with Harry wasn’t that bad. We both had the same appetite.

The elevator bell rung. It’s doors opened.

“I don’t know” I said to Harry. “Does it?”

I smirked back at him before walking out.

You got a fetish for my love

I push you out and you come right back

Don't see a point in blaming you

If I were you, I'd do me too

You got a fetish for my love

I need to stop coming to these parties. Every time I do, I have these encounters with Harry. I keep telling him what we had was over. No matter how many times I do, he keeps on flirting with me. He was unable to take a hint. But it’s only been a week. I won’t put any blame on me for now. I’ll give him time to move on. I knew everyone was sensitive and weak after breakups. If he was still pining over me, it was fine for now. It’s just a temporary fetish he has for me. He’ll get over it soon.

*HARRY’S POV*

Reaching your limit

Say you're reaching your limit

Going over your limit

But I know you can't quit it

Something about me

Got you hooked on my body

Take you over and under and twisted up like origami

I knew Y/N didn’t mean anything she said about of fling being over. Sure, I knew it became exhausting at times but it didn’t seem that exhausting if she kept coming back to me. I knew she couldn’t quit me. The way we were in bed proved it. I swore no one else could please her like I do and vice versa. I knew every inch of her body and where and how to touch her. We were magnets to each other, always connected.

The way you walk, the way you talk

I blame you 'cause it's all your fault

Ya playin' hard, don't turn me off

Ya acting hard, but I know you soft

She acted the complete opposite to me now when she was in bed. I knew she wanted me. I knew I had an effect on her. Despite her efforts trying to hide it, I saw right through her. If anything her efforts only made me want her more.

“Grimmy!” I greeted Nick as I walked over to him.

He was talking to Alexa and Pixie, my pals as well. I said hi to all of them with a hug.

“Harold, you’re late again!” Nick pointed out. “What’s your excuse this time? Did you and Y/N decide to have makeup sex in the elevator?”

Alexa and Pixie laughed.

“Maybe” I joked along.

“I swear H, I heard rumors about you two of you already” Nick said. “Your fling is annoying us”

“It’s not a fling, Nick” Pixie corrected him. “It’s a fetish”

“Hey,” I called on them, trying to stop them from getting into my business.

“Seriously H, are you two back together?” Alexa asked me. “It’s a yes or no”

You my fetish, I'm so with it

All these rumors bein' spreaded

Might as well go 'head and whip it

'Cause they sayin' we already did it

Of course, I wanted to be with her. I wanted her so much I didn’t care anymore what people thought about us. They can call it a fetish or anything else. All I knew that I was ready to be with her. She wasn’t. She needed time.

“I’m planning to” I answered, smirking.

“Planning to?” Pixie asked, surprised.

“Harold, what are you doing then?” Nick asked me. “It has become a game to you and her”

“I don’t think so” I said. “Its more of a game to her”

Call on Gucci if you ever need and

I'll be South Beach in the drop top gleamin'

Water diamonds, Aquafina

Just need you in a blue bikini

Alexa stepped closer to me.

“Do you like her, really?” Alexa asked me. “Can you imagine being with her in the long run?”

Can I? I know it takes me a long time to commit to someone but I past it. If anyone who was afraid of committing, it was Y/N. I already can imagine is doing little things together.

I can see us on an island alone together on a beach. I imagine her in a blue bikini with the sunlight hitting her as she tries to playfully drag me into the ocean. Then I see us walking hand in hand surrounded by photographers. Gucci, dressed on the both of us. I can see her making fun of my baby pictures along with Gemma after I introduced to her to my mother and sister.

It’s a yes. It’s always been a yes.

“Yes” I answered Alexa. “I have been for a while”

“Then go talk to her” Alexa said. “Convince her. Try H”

I watched Y/N talk to friends from afar. I’ve been watching her all night, trying to decide when to talk to her. I had a feeling she was avoiding me. I think she knew I wanted to talk to her. I believed she rather talk to anyone else than me.The amount of people she talked to was evident of that. When one of Y/N’S friends was about to leave, I walked up to her.

“Can I talk to you?” I asked her, smiling. “Please?”

“About what?” She asked, smirking.

“Us” I stated. “Alone”

Her eyes looked away from me to the ground, seeming annoyed. She let out a heavy breath, sighing. She looked back up to me.

“Fine” Y/N said.

She walked into the hallway. I followed her.

“What?” She asked me.

“I don’t want us to end” I said to her.

“H, I told you I can’t do this game again. It was an on and off fling” Y/N explained. “It was bound to end”

“It’s not a game” I corrected her. “Not to me anymore”

She looked skeptical of me.

“How can I trust you?” She asked, stepping closer to me. “You’re probably only saying that to get me back in bed with you”

“It’s fair you still think that” I said, knowing she was stubborn. “Let me prove it”

“Prove?” She asked, surprised. “Why?”

“I know you feel the same” I stated. “I know you wouldn’t come back to me if you didn’t feel anything. We both know that”

Her eyes darted to the side then to me again.

“What if I do? How will you prove it?” She asked. “I can’t waste another chance”

For once, I knew what to do.

I looked down to my hands. I took off one of my gold rings. I held it in my hand. Y/N looked surprised at my actions. I knew she would. My rings held a significant meaning in my life. I only ever shared them with loved ones. Y/N knew this.

“H, I can’t” Y/N said, stepping back from me. “That belongs to your family”

“Exactly” I said, staring into her eyes. “I’m proving it”

I took her hand and placed the ring in her palm. I looked into her eyes again.

“If you want to or not, you’ll know where I’ll be” I said to her.

I walked away from her and out the hallway. I decided to leave but said goodbye first to my friends. When I walked to the elevator, I noticed Y/N wasn’t here anymore. I smirked, feeling prideful of what I’ve done.

I stepped into the elevator.

It was Y/N’s turn now. She could come back to me one last time or not. If she didn’t, I had to move on. If she did, that would be everything.

I only had to wait. Wait for her.

[freefallingforfanfiction]

Super Strange Things

Chapter Four: Is This Real Life or Is This Just Fantasy

Pairing: Johnathan Byers x Reader

Overall Summary: Y/N Winchester, middle child of John and Mary Winchester, arrives in Hawking’s with her family to investigate a series of disappearances and hearsay of a strange, faceless monster, along with a girl who can supposedly move things with her mind.

This Chapter: An awkward car ride home turn out better than Y/N expected. 

Warning: Warped time line.

Tagging: @loquaciousmelanin @laurel-celestial @shortykatezey @bands-and-shietz @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou @myshakespeareandarling @precious-cinnamon-roll666 @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @castelo-amado

Authors Note: I think I got everyone that asked to be tagged but if I missed you please send me a message and I’ll be happy to start tagging you! :)

Series Masterlist

The car ride back to the Byers residence was deafeningly quiet; Jonathan hadn’t turned on the radio, and you had not attempted to speak to him after the car doors closed and encased the two of you in a sad, awkward silence.

Instead, you had opted for slipping off your black boots and tucking your legs under your thighs, careful to not expose anything under your skirt. You propped your elbow on the doors arm rest and relaxed your chin the palm of your hand, watching the scenery pass you by.

In the seat next to you, Jonathan sat. His face wasn’t angry, nor was it stoic, instead a state of melancholy had overtaken his features, and you sighed quietly to yourself.

You felt horrible about what happened. The look on Jonathan’s face when his camera crashed to the ground… It was heartbreaking to say the least, especially knowing that you were the one that caused said heartbreak. You hadn’t meant for things to escalate like that, it was the exact opposite of what you had hoped for, actually. But your temper had gotten the best of you.

I’m so fucking stupid, you thought to yourself as you rested your head against the cool glass of the car window, shutting your burning eyes. You bit your trembling lip and steeled your face. You were a Winchester. Winchester’s did not cry.

“Thank you, Y/N.” Jonathan muttered from the driver’s seat, his voice hoarse.

Jonathan’s voice did not hint sarcasm, but you were sure it had to be in there somewhere. Perhaps he was just too upset, too emotionally drained to fully put the tone into his voice. Because what did he have to thank you for? A broken camera, maybe? Possibly for a new set of bullies? Oh, or maybe even a new and improved reputation as the school pervert?

You laughed dryly, lifting your head up off the glass to look at your more than likely soon to be ex-best-friend, “For what? For coming into your life for less than 48 hours and completely screwing everything up?”

Jonathan’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles turning white. He swallowed heavily and bit down on his jaw before he lightly shook his head, causing his brown locks to sway gently back and forth.

“No,” Jonathan’s voice was still horse, thick with some emotion you could not place, “Thank you for standing up for me. No one’s ever done that before, besides my mom.”

Suddenly, the overwhelming acrimonious emotions were washed from your person as you blinked up at the boy in the driver’s side seat. He hadn’t taken his eyes from the road, but the melancholy that had been prominent on his facial features only minutes before was replaced with, what you only assumed to be, gratitude.

Slowly, he turned his deep brown gaze on you, and you suddenly felt shy under its intensity. You blinked up at him with doe like eyes, almost in a trace as you ran a hand through your messy H/C locks and nibbled on the corner of your lip. “Any time,” you whispered, watching as a ghost of a smile appeared on Jonathan’s face.

He reached over and softly patted your knee, “Don’t worry about the camera, it wasn’t your fault. He was going to break it no matter what either of us did or said. That’s just who he is.”

You shook your head, sending a flurry of H/C about your face, “No, I shouldn’t have been so snappy with Steve, I was just so mad,” you explained, running your hands through your [curly, wavy, straight] hair once more, “You doesn’t deserve to be treated that way, you didn’t do anything wrong, it was my fault but they were just so fixated on you,” you leaned back into the worn seats on Jonathan’s car, letting your head hit the back of it. “It got to me, but I was wrong to act the way I did.”

Jonathan shifted his gaze from the road to you once more, and again, the shy feeling returned. You met his gaze uneasily, picking at the sleeve of your [favorite color] flannel that had made its way from around your waist to around your arms in fourth period. Jonathan moved his right hand from the steering wheel again, this time to lay it on your shoulder. His stare was gentle, yet firm as he looked directly into your eyes, “Y/N, please. Don’t blame yourself, it’s like Dean said, were all at fault, we were all stupid.”

You tried to smile at the sweet boy before you, but your heart had stalled in your chest at the unexpected behavior, and you found yourself lost in those deep, brown eyes of his. Swallowing thickly, you opened your mouth, nothing came out for a moment before your brain finally decided to make a clumsy appearance, allowing you to stammer out a breathy “Okay.”

Jonathan smiled at you fondly before he placed his hand back on the wheel and sped up a bit. And with that simple smile, it was as if all the tension in the car had vanished into thin air. You smiled back at Jonathan as you shifted yourself in the passenger side seat, tuning to towards Jonathan instead of away. You brushed your fingers over the radio, eyeing it quickly before you found the power button and pressed it.

Queen’s Crazy Little Thing Called Love quickly filled the car, and you smiled and rolled the window down, letting the wind further tangle your already matted hair, not noticing Jonathan gazing at you longingly from his seat beside you.

“Sam? Dean? I’m home,” you call as you stepped through the threshold of the small powder blue rent house.

“In the kitchen,” you heard Dean’s gruff voice call back.

“Coming,” you responded, slipping off your black boots and padding over to the cramped kitchen in your skull patterned socks. You leaned against the small yellow stained fridge that came with the house and took in the tranquil scene before you.

Sam was seated at the make shift dining table, his school books and homework packets splayed around him. His face was set in deep concentration as he carefully moved his pencil across the papers, fully absorbed in his work. Dean was at the stove, he had shed his twenty layers of shirts as the kitchen was rather toasty, and had only his white undershirt and indigo flannel, which was rolled up to his elbows as he stood over the stove, stirring a pot of something. You loved walking in on moments like these, moments where everything seemed so normal, you felt as if you were just a regular family, with a mom and dad at work, and a caring older brother to cook the family supper. You smiled lightly and pushed yourself away from the fridge, making your way over to Sammy, you ruffled his hair lightly and kissed the top of his head. He stopped his work to look up and smile at you before he dove back into his science homework.

“What’cha cooking big brother?” you asked as you made your way over to the stove to peer into the pot.

“Homemade hamburger helper.” Dean answered blankly.

“WhAt?!” You screeched, shoving his shoulder aggressively to see what was in the pot. Dean shoved you back easily with one hand, causing you to stumble forward as he let out a loud bark of laughter at your dramatic reaction.

“I’m kidding,” Dean smiled as you pouted up at him, crossing your arms over your chest. You stamped your foot on the ground for emphasis before stomping back over to the stove, where Dean let you peer into the spot. You let out a sign of relief when you saw he was cooking spaghetti.

“Thank the gods,” you mumble as you turned away from the stove and pulled out a chair from under the table and plopped yourself down in it. The metal was cold as it seeped in through your stripped stockings, sending a chill down your spine. You rested your elbow on the table and set your chin on the back of your hand, E/C irises skimming over your brother’s homework.

“What are you working on Sammy?” you asked, your eyes swimming over a wall of text.

“Science homework,” Sam answered, “Today we started discussing the causes and effects of regional climates,” he elaborated. Then he turned his large puppy eyes on Dean, “But I just finished. So can I go meet the guys?”

“The guys?” you asked, quirking a brow. Sam rolled his eye at you and the knowing smirk you had on your face, but answered you anyway. “Mike, Dustin, and Lucas.”

“To do what?” you asked curiously, setting your eyes on your baby brother. His face held a small amount of excitement as he looked back and forth between you and Dean, his brown locks swishing at the motion.

“Well, the cover up story is that were playing DND.” Sam said, causing Dean to turn around and give Sam a questioning look.

“Dungeons and Dragons,” Sam said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

You grinned and blew some of your stray looks out of your face, “Phft, nerd.”

Sam playfully narrowed his gaze at you and you sent him a wink, knowing exactly what DND was.

“But we’re actually going search for Will,” Sam continued, ignoring your brothers extraordinarily confused look as watched the two of you at the table. “So can I go?”

Dean whipped his hands on the dish towel, his brows furrowing as he thought it over. Sam gave his sweetest eyes, and you could see Dean internally groan and give in. “Fine. But be careful.”

Sam grinned ear to ear and shot up from the table and to the hallway where he snatched up his jacket, “Hey!” Dean called, causing your younger brother’s head to whip around to face your older brother, “This isn’t going to be a nightly occurrence, you hear me?”

Sam nodded his head sharply, but the small smile that graced his lips never left as he waved goodbye to the two of you and jetted out the door.

You hummed to yourself quietly, causing Dean to send you a questioning look. “I never thought I’d see the day you let Sammy out of the house by himself,” you mused, picking up Sam’s discarded pencil and twirling it between your fingers.

Dean sighed and flipped the dish rag he was holding over his shoulder and walked back to the stove to stir the pot. “Gotta let him have some freedom every now and then, otherwise you know what happens.”

Your face dropped slightly at Dean’s words, the memory of how angry your dad had been at the both of you the weekend Sam had run off during a hunt. It had taken you almost a week to track him down, and though it was both of your faults, John and ultimately put the blame on Dean, the eldest.

“Yea,” you muttered under your breath, “I guess so.”

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, Dean finishing up the pot of spaghetti, and you doodling on the back of one of Sam’s homework assignments. The only noises that filled the kitchen was the pencil scrapping against paper and the metal spoon hitting against the black pot.

When the spaghetti was finished you took out the paper plates and fixed yourselves some food, you each had a warm bottle of coke to drink while you chatted easily about the school day you had had before the Steve fiasco.

“Yea, I was just walking down the hall, and suddenly the janitors closet is tossed open, and three arms reach up and grab me by my collar-” Dean’s dramatic tale of being kidnapped by high school girls was cut off as a sharp ring sounded through the quiet house.

“I’ll get it,” you said as you pushed yourself away from the table and hopped to your feet. You jogged over to the phone and snatched it up off the hook, answering it with a brisk “Hello?”

“Y/N, its dad,” your father’s tired voice came from the other end of the phone.

“Oh, hey dad. When are you coming home, Dean cooked spaghetti, don’t want it getting cold you do?”

You could hear voices in the back ground but you weren’t able to make out what they were saying, you could only hear the rushed tones the people spoke in.

“I don’t think I’ll be making it home anytime soon, sweetheart,” your dad said, and this time you could hear the dismay in his voice.

You swallowed heard, almost afraid to ask the question, because you knew what he was about to tell you. But it didn’t feel right, it didn’t feel real. It wasn’t, was it?

“Why?” you forced the word from your lungs and waited with baited breath for your dad to give you the answer you dreaded the most.

You heard your dad let out a heavy sigh from the other end of the receiver before he answered you. “Someone just found a body at the quarry,” he started, “And it’s been identified as Will Byers.”

[backroombuzz]

Chris Cillizza LIED About His Trump Crosshairs Picture Excuse

As Usual The Cover-up, Not The Crime Is What Get's You In Trouble

Chris Cillizza and CNN blamed the Trump Crosshair picture on GifGrabber and a CNN tech mistake, because who the hell looks at their pictures when you're sending out a tweet? If it was any other liberal I would never believe any excuse they give. With Chris Cillizza he doesn't have to utter a word before you know whatever he'll say or write is nothing but bullshit. Last October we call out this two-bit journalist for insinuating that President Trump was a liar. We didn't call him out just for that, but for the fact that Chris Cillizza, nor CNN removed the story after it had been utterly discredited. On Oct 19, 2017 Chris Cillizza published an article entitled: Donald Trump just suggested the FBI, Democrats and Russia might all be co-conspirators. In it he wrote: But even by Trump standards, this morning's tweet is somewhat remarkable. He is suggesting that a dossier prepared by a former member of British intelligence has not only been totally discredited (it hasn't -- more on that in a minute) but that it might have been funded by some combination of Russia, the Democratic Party and, wait for it, the FBI! On October 27th we wrote our story calling out Cillizza, and CNN out for not pulling his moronic story, and they still haven't. There have been, of course, many other stories that have clearly demonstrated Cillizza's lack of ethics, while emphasizing his stupidity. Normally you won't even have to make it past the headline to know that Chris Cillizza wrote another completely full of crap story. Like the story, we did in February where we bashed Cillizza for his click-bait bullshit entitled "People are leaving the Trump White House in record numbers" And this was his "Facts First" picture for the story. Reading his headline it's not hard to guess what is wrong with this picture? In case Chris Cillizza is reading this article we tried to give him a hint where he was factually challenged by circling exactly what's wrong.

At the time when we and many others called bullshit on Chris Cillizza's bullshit. Instead of being a real journalist and going back and changing the headline to factually read "People are leaving President Trump in record numbers." Chris Cillizza instead showed exactly how morally bankrupt he and CNN are. He amended his story with this little tidbit "CORRECTION: This story has been updated to correctly describe the composite picture."  In the caption, he added his "His story reflected the people in "Trump's orbit." But the picture was never the problem, the HEADLINE was what was factually incorrect, but Cillizza could not admit his dishonesty even when tweeting out to his fans. We are adjusting graphic language. But the stats from Brookings are totally accurate. Thanks for reading. — Chris Cillizza (@CillizzaCNN) February 13, 2018 There have been many other examples of his lies and deceit, but his latest FUBAR and his dishonest excuse, even with the use of Liberal logic, doesn't pass the smell test. Chris Cillizza tweet that contained President Trump with a green crosshair overlay picture. That in itself would not have been a big deal, except for the left hyperbole over the Sarah Palin ad in 2011. Then a New York Times editorial claimed that maps circulated by Sarah Palin's PAC amounted to "political incitement," which the authors said was clearly linked to the subsequent 2011 shooting of Rep. Gabby Giffords, D-Ariz. Then the liberal loony toon left got out their soapboxes and stretching liberal logic to its utmost claimed the GOP was inciting gunman to shoot Democrats. Of course, it was a ridiculous notion, but if the left wants to hyperbole every imagined slight, then they should be held to the same standard of decency that they demand of the right. Being an incompetent stooge of a journalist should not get you fired, buy lying to cover up your stupidity should. While some reports claim "He deleted the tweet quickly." We are going to assume that like any normal human being, the moment you discovered your stupidity such as tweeting out a picture of President Trump with a green crosshairs overlay you would delete it immediately, as well as issue an apology at the same time. Chris Cillizza didn't tweet his "we deleted" tweet till 2:16 pm a full 6-hours after tweeting out his "Trump In The Crosshairs" tweet at 8:15 am. That is not what I would call "quickly."  

CNN then issued the following statement: “Chris has already addressed this issue publicly. The image in question is a framing mark used in film and video production to frame a shot. Nothing more. A producer who created the motion graphic inadvertently left that frame in the GIF.  When it came to our attention, the tweet containing the GIF was deleted and replaced with explanation. There is nothing more to say.” Excuse Me I Have Something To Say Not one person from a kid tweeting out a picture from his little league game to the President of the United States tweeting about a Rose Garden press conference, would not look at the picture he is tweeting before hitting the send button. In 99.99999% of these tweets, since Twitter only makes a small thumbnail available when you attach something to your tweet, you would certainly look at the tweet after it's posted as well. Chris Cillizza wrote that tweet. Chris Cillizza attached the photo to the tweet. Chris Cillizza sent out that tweet from HIS account. So while CNN and Chris Cillizza can claim some tech guy screwed up all they want, that tweet was written by, attached a picture to, and sent by only one person, Chris Cillizza. Therefore Chris Cillizza wrote his "Donald Trump, pointing to the heavens..." comment. Then searched his computer for the picture to attach to his tweet, saw the thumbnail of the picture, saw it had a green crosshair overlay over the Trump picture and Chris Cillizza still hit the send button.

Chris Cillizza could not have possibly noticed something wrong with the picture on numerous occasions. Unless someone has "Extra Large Thumbnails" chosen on their computer, which then Chris Cillizza would have easily spotted the tech mistake in creating his graphic. Most computers settings show only a small thumbnail when searching for graphics. I included a screenshot of what Chris Cillizza would have seen when searching for his computer for the Trump photo to attach to his tweet. He would, of course, know what it looked like beforehand, and while it would have been similar in color and style to the Nicki Haley thumbnail. It would therefore have been impossible to have chosen a green rectangular blob unless you were actually looking for a green rectangular blob. Even if Chris Cillizza was stupid enough to not look at the picture when choosing his tweet attachment, say instead his computer only showed file names. Then how could he have possibly missed the Green rectangular picture in the twitter thumbnail preview? Then, of course, he missed it again after hitting send and instantly the tweet with the full-size image of President Trump with a green crosshair overlay would have appeared. That makes at least three absolutely credible chances for Chris Cillizza to have seen that CNN tech mistake, but somehow against all odds he missed every single opportunity? As usual with CNN their excuses don't hold up to the facts... But then again we are talking about CNN where facts don't matter. Either CNN created a fraudulent excuse, or Chris Cillizza knew exactly what he was doing and then lied to CNN. No matter which someone needs to be held accountable at "Facts First" CNN. Read the full article

[mf-despair-queen]

Crawling Chaos - Part One - Void Stiles

Author: @mf-despair-queen​

Characters: Void Stiles/Reader

Word Count: 3,496

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Oral (Female receiving), Fingering, Riddles

Notes: My first Void smut? My first Void smut. Not sure how well this will really go tbh because I don’t think I’m good at portraying Void. But let me know for sure if you do like it. This idea has been in my mind for a few weeks now, and all because I was listening to one certain anime opening at work called Koi wa Chaos no Shimobenari. It kind of gave me the idea for what to do with this, even though it has NOTHING to do with the song. Also, side note, i did use Google Translate for one small thing in here. Don’t blame me if it is wrong.

Part 2  Part 3

The moon barely broke through the treetops, but you could see perfectly. You wandered alone through the dark abyss of the woods, unsure where you were at this point. You had been on the run for so long that you didn’t care where you ended up at this point. You just knew you were somewhere in California..

You knelt down by a bush, observing the tiny flowers that were blooming on its branches. They swayed gently in the breeze, your nose picking up on the faint aroma they were exuding. You gave a tiny smile, running your fingers over the petals careful.

With one touch, the flowers began to wither.

You smile widened, watching the flowers die in front of you. These were the little things that you lived for. It may sound odd, but it’s true. Everywhere you went, disaster followed. Every time you stepped into a town, chaos ensured. The people turned mad, turning against each other in an instant. And you know what?

It made you happy.

The flower dropped to the ground, your bare foot smashing it into the dirt. You giggled at the action, feeling the crunch of it under your toes. You spotted another bush with flowers, skipping over to it to repeat the actions.

“Little dove, who let you out of your cage?”

You froze, your fingers inches from the next flower you were about to kill. You turned to the mysterious voice, spotting a figure sitting atop a giant tree trunk. You could feel the power the tree held, as well as the ominous aura of the figure atop it.

You slowly stood up, taking a good look at the person who addressed you. He was pale with dark circles evident under his dark, whiskey eyes. His chocolate colored hair was disheveled, sticking up in random directions. He had a smirk plastered on his smooth, luscious lips. Moles littered his perfectly defined jawline. He sat cross-legged on the stump, clad in some khakis and a gray striped shirt. You guessed he had some decent muscle under that shirt with the way it clung to his arms and chest. You were even more sure of what the package down below held, a small bulge apparent in his crisscrossed legs.

You narrowed your eyes at the male, pursing your lips. You were trying to stay calm, unsure what to expect with him. “It’s kind of hard to keep me caged. I always seem to slip out. What about you? Someone let you roam free without a leash?”

The man chuckled lowly, leaning back on his hands. “No one can contain me.” You smiled slightly, thrilled by his resilience to the world. There was something about the man in front of you that excited you. He crawled off the stump, slowly making his way towards you. “Now, tell me. What exactly are you, little dove? What kind of beautifully destructive being are you?”

His hand cupped your cheek, his fingers caressing it gently. His eyes bore into yours, your face heating up with him being near. “Y-You probably wouldn’t know what I am. And if you do, you wouldn’t believe me.”

He grinned, a dark glint in his eyes. “Try me, little dove.”

Your mouth was dry, and swallowing did nothing to relieve the pain it was causing. You licked your lips, his eyes following its every move. “I’m a nyarlathotep.”

He blinked slowly, processing what you said. Within a second, he burst out laughing, stepping away from you. “The crawling chaos? You’re the crawling chaos? I’ve hit the fucking motherload. This is brilliant.”

You cocked your head, missing the warmth of his body already. “How exactly is that good for you? It’s good for me, yes. I’m the one that enjoys it.”

He jumped atop the tree trunk, looking down at you. “Oh kitten. You haven’t realized what I am then?”

Sending him a glare, you took in his features once more. Aside from the dark aura surrounding his being, he seemed like an ordinary human. He didn’t smell different. You could almost mistake him for being weak ad fragile if you didn’t know he had real muscle hiding under his clothes. Your eyebrows knit together, frustration on your face. I’m sorry. You look like an ordinary human If you ask me.”

“So simple, kitten.” He jumped off the stump, taking long strides towards you. You took a few steps back, your back colliding with a nearby tree. His hand gripped the bark, trapping you against it before you could slip free. “I’m sure in your time on this earth you’ve heard of a nogitsune.”

Your eyes locked with his, widening slightly. “I’ve only heard tales. Never met one personally though.” You looked him up and down now that he was closer, smirking slightly. “You took over a teenage boy? Whatever possessed you to do that?”

He chuckled, twirling a piece of your hair around his finger. “He was open to it. A smart but easy mind I could slip inside. But I could ask the same thing about you. Why take the form of an innocent, young girl?”

You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck. In the sweetest voice you could muster, you said, “Well, no one would ever suspect an innocent girl like me to turn a town mad, now would they?”

He groaned, shifting against you. “I can’t argue that fact, kitten.” He licked his lips, his breath fanning over your face. “Being near you sure in enticing, kitten. I can feel the chaos you possess within you. It’s delicious.” You felt something prodding at your thigh, a soft whimper escaping your lips. “We could do great things together, kitten. Together, we can spread chaos through all of Beacon Hills. What do you say?”

You nodded, tugging him closer by the shirt. Your breathing was coming out in shallow pants, your body warm against his. “I will only play with you if you play with me first. I’m not one to help another so lightly. Show me how devious you can be, nogitsune.”

His eyes glinted in the faint moonlight, a mysterious twinkle in them. “Well then, let’s play a game, kitten. Answer my riddles, and I will reward you. Also, just call me…Void.”

You glared at him. “Riddles? That’s the best you got, Void?” You meant to taunt him, attempting to manipulate him to do what you wanted. But he didn’t budge, messing with the buttons on the shirt you were wearing.

“First one. The more you have it, the less you see. What is it?” He slowly began undoing the buttons, feeling your chest moving as you held your breath. He saw the wheels turning, trying to find the answer. He knew you couldn’t resist answering.

“Darkness.” You said confidently. He nodded, ripping the shirt the rest of the way, the buttons flying in different directions and getting lost in the dirt and leaves. The cold air hit your chest, a shiver running through your body. “Shit, it’s cold outside.”

“And yet, you have no shoes on.” He quipped, running his fingers along your skin. “You chose a nice form this time around. Beautiful to the eye, but reeking of chaos and strife. What else do you got, kitten?” His hand tugged at your bra, leaving you to mentally curse the human contraption. “Next riddle. I pass before the sun, yet make no shadow. What am I?”

You huffed, tugging on his shirt. You were getting annoyed, partially from the riddles and partially from the lack of interaction he was giving you. You were burning up inside, and he wanted to tell you riddles. “The wind,” you muttered through clenched teeth. He didn’t waste a second, the bra ripping easily between his fingers. Your breasts bounced freely from its confines, nipples already erect from the cold.

Void licked his lips, staring down at them. “Correct. You’re a smart one kitten. Contemplate this one while I reward you. What is it that is deaf, dumb and blind and always tells the truth?”

You blinked once, Void gone from your sight before you knew it. His lips wrapped around one of your nipples, his tongue running over the bud slowly. You moaned aloud, your hands tangling in his hair. Your mind blanked, only thinking about the feeling his mouth was giving you. His hand gripped at the other breast, groping it between his fingers, making the veins in his hand pop out more. Your moans grew louder, his tongue flicking over the nipple repeatedly. He paused only once to swap breasts, repeating his actions.

You were shaking under him, trying to focus on the riddle he gave you. “It’s a-a…fuck!” You screamed, his fingers tweaking one nipples while his teeth nibbled at the other. Your head fell back against the tree, your hair getting stuck in the bark. You were writhing against him, struggling to stay composed. “A-a mirror! A fucking mirror! Fuck!”

He released the nipple with an audible pop, sucking on random spots on your chest. “Good girl. How am I doing so far?”

You scowled at him. “You’re a prick.”

He chuckled, popping the button on your jeans and slipping his hand into your panties. His fingers flicked against your core, collecting the juices that leaked out. “Mmm. You say that, but I obviously am doing something right.” He pulled his hand out, leaving you whimpering. “Get this one right, and I will reward you again. What can you break without hitting or dropping it?”

You gripped at his arms, your nails digging into the material of his shirt. They flexed under you, confirming your suspicions that he had hidden muscles. He pressed you closer to the tree, his lips brushing against yours briefly. You whimpered again, barely managing to utter anything “A-a promise.”

“I got a smart one right here.” He dipped down, tugging the jeans and panties down your silky legs, stripping them from around your ankles and discarding them into the bushes. He blew against your folds, feeling your legs trembling. “Now, let me hear you scream, kitten.”

His mouth connected with your entrance, swiping his tongue along your folds. You mewled, your fingers gripping at his hair, tugging it relentlessly. You felt his lips tug upwards, his tongue delving into your dripping pussy. It swirled in circles, gathering every drop of liquid you had released.

“Void,” You whined, your legs turning to jelly. His tongue thrust into you quickly, wiggling against your walls. His ears perked up at the growing volume of your whines, your hips thrusting into his face. His tongue went deeper, rubbing your walls with the tip. “I need to feel more. Please.”

He pulled away, replacing his tongue with two fingers, scissoring them while he drove into you. Your whines turned into small screams, your teeth digging into your lip to muffle them slightly. His tongue grazed your clit, flicking at the nub continuously. His fingers pounded your pussy, rubbing against your sensitive spots every time.

“Come on, kitten,” he taunted, nibbling at your clit. “I want to hear you scream. Scream while you cum.”

His lips wrapped around your clit, giving it a hard suck. His hand sped up, your body jerking more than before. You finally let out a loud scream, letting his name bounce off the trees while you came around his fingers, feeling your juices dripping freely down your thighs. Your body shook, your hands resting on his shoulders to keep from collapsing.

He lapped at your juices, licking his fingers clean once he pulled them from you. He carefully stood up, his hand resting on your hip to keep you steady. You were panting wildly, your eyes bearing holes into him. “One final riddle, kitten. Then I will tell you a secret.” You mumble a small curse, watching him tug the shirt he was wearing over your head. “No sooner spoken than broken. What is it?”

You stared at his toned chest, noting the patch of hair that was growing on his chest and the even more notable trail of hair that lined his stomach, disappearing into his khakis. You barely processed the fact that he had told you a riddle, your mind fixated on the handsome creature in front of your eyes.

“Well, kitten? What’s the answer?”

You blinked, looking back up with him. “Oh. Um.” You thought momentarily, staring into his dark eyes. “Silence. It’s silence, isn’t it?”

He grinned, leaning close to your ear. “So smart. Silence is correct. It’s also something we won’t be having here soon. Now, let me tell you a secret. Something only the two of us can know.” Your breath hitched, feeling his lips brush against the shell of your ear. He wet his lips, his tongue skimming against your earlobe, leaving you shaking at the small action. “Anata ga mohaya aruku koto ga dekinaku naru made, watashi wa anata o tsuyoku fakku shimasu. Anata wa watashi no namae o sakebudeshou.” You shivered at his words, clearly understanding what he had just told you.

I’m going to fuck you hard and fast until you can no longer walk. You will scream my name.

You fumbled with the button on his jeans, your lips colliding with his finally. He roughly shoved you against the tree, his mouth sloppily meshing with yours. Your tongues battled your dominance, his overtaking yours easily. His hips ground into yours while he kissed you, muffling your gasps of pleasure. His head tilted to the side, allowing him to enclose his lips completely around yours. You couldn’t deny that his lips were soft, but that was the least of your concerns currently. You just wanted to feel all of him.

He pulled back, helping undo his jeans, letting you push them down to his knees, his boxers following shortly after. You glanced down at his giant cock, watching it slap his stomach, seeing the precum seeping from the red tip, observing the way it twitched in anticipation. He hiked one of your legs up around his waist, aligning himself with your pussy. With one quick thrust forward, his cock burrowed into you to the hilt, a loud scream ripped from your throat.

He didn’t waste any time, slamming upwards into you, driving his cock into you ruthlessly. Your back scraped against the bark of the tree, red marks covering your soft skin. You gripped at his shoulders, scratching at his back as loud moans hit his ears. He let out small grunts, unrelenting as he smashed himself into you.

“Fuck me, Void. Oh my god!” Your head fell back, your leg tightening around his waist, allowing him to hit even deeper. He groaned in response, his fingers leaving dark bruises on your thighs from where they were pressing into you. The other hand gripped at your waist, helping you move so you would meet his thrusts rhythmically. They met in perfect unison, causing louder screams to echo through the woods.

He let go of your thigh, slipping his fingers to your clit, rubbing random, feverish motions at the engorged nub. He felt your walls tightening around his cock, your body squirming in his grasp. His name flew from your lips countless times, unraveling in his arms. Your toes curled into his back and the dirt, your back arching off the tree he was pounding you into. Your nails raked his back harshly, drawing small amounts of blood from the pressure. Your head buried into his neck, biting at it as you came around him, his moan fueling your orgasm. Your fluids splattered your walls around him, providing extra lubrication for his rough thrusts as you rode out your peak.

He grunted, pulled from you quickly, wrapping his arm around your waist. You squeaked when he picked you up off the ground, carrying you over to the trunk he had been perched upon earlier that night, his pants left on the ground. He placed you in front of it, spinning you so your back pressed against his chest. His hands fondled your breasts, his head dipping to kiss and bite at your neck. You moaned, feeling his stiff cock pressing against your back. Your body heated up quickly, your pussy aching for him.

“Void please. I need you still. Please.”

“Oh, kitten,” he chuckled menacingly. “We’ve barely started.” He pushed you forward, your hands catching on the trunk. His hand pressed into your back, his cock lining up with your pussy. The tip rubbed your entrance, his ears catching your mewls of anticipation. He grinned at your noises, proud of the mess he had made of you.

With one swift thrust, he was buried deep in your pussy, his cock pulsing against your walls. Your nails dug into the stump, claw marks left in its wake. You waited for him to move, shaking every time you felt him twitch inside of you. When he remained motionless, you glanced back at him, seeing his intense stare at you.

“Do you want me to do all the hard work?” You grumbled at him, Shifting your ass against him. He groaned slightly, his hands gripping your waist. “Fine. Don’t answer me, you dick.”

You shifted your hips backwards, feeling his cock bottom out before leaning forward. Once the tip was nearly out, you bottomed him out again, repeating the same motions over and over again. His groans got louder, his grip tightening. He helped lead your motions, guiding you as you thrust against him.

“Kitten, as lovely as this is, I need to fuck you harder.” You barely had time to process his words before he began pounding you once more. His momentum was solid, never faltering in his ungodly speed. You moaned noisily, a knot forming in your abdomen.

He propped one foot on the stump, giving him a new angle to thrust at. His cock pressed into your walls, nudging your g-spot constantly. You were barely standing, your arms becoming weak. Your body was shaking, spasms rolling through your body, pleasure and desire coursing through your veins.

His hand collided with your ass, a loud slap filling the air. You screamed at the contact, a rush of bliss filling you. He laughed, his thrusts increasing. “Oh, you like that kitten? Keep those screams coming, baby.” He smacked your ass again and again, enjoying the sounds that were coming from your lips.

Your walls hugged around him, clinging to his cock. “Void, I’m going to cum.” He moaned in response, his thrusts becoming sloppier by the second. He grabbed your ass, his cock twitching against your walls. You shuddered against him, your breath coming out in short pants.

“Go ahead, kitten. Scream for me as you cum.” One final hard thrust sent you spiraling, black spots filling your vision. You let out the loudest moan possible, the only word slipping passed your lips being Void’s name. Your body quaked, your orgasm rocking your being. Your fluids flooded around his cock, soaking it completely. Void moaned, his cock sputtering against you. His seed spilled from his tip, mixing with your juices inside of you. You were a moaning mess, Void wrapping his arm around you and pulling you up against him. Your back pressed against his chest, Void hugging you close to him. His lips met yours in a sensual kiss, you both coming down from your highs.

Your legs were shaking when he let you go, sitting you down on the stump. He foraged for your clothes, dropping yours next to you so he could get dressed. He watched you slowly get dressed, licking his lips in delight. You finished slipping his shirt over your head, since yours was ruined, looking up at the dark eyes of the fox.

“So, my little dove, what do you say about wreaking chaos through Beacon Hills with me?”

You tipped your chin in thought, a smile upon your lips. “Well, seeing as your just fed a LOT of chaos off me while you fucked me, I don’t think you need me anymore. Plus,” you leaned back on the stump, your hands softly caressing the flat top, “this here Nemeton doesn’t want me to spread chaos here. It wants me to head east. Guess I’m needed elsewhere.” You crawled off the stump, staring at Void’s shocked expression. “Oh, don’t feel bad honey. I had a lot of fun with you. I definitely will have a hard time walking that way.”

You pat his cheek, heading the opposite direction of the town you knew was there. “Toodaloo, Void. Spread lots of chaos for me. When you’re done here, come find me and we can have some real fun.”

You disappeared into the trees, leaving Void alone. He rubbed his chin, grinning evilly. “That woman. She really is the Crawling Chaos. She is driving me mad already.” He turned on his heel, adjusting his still hard cock in his pants. “I’m still turned on by her too. Fuck.”

[ael-xander]

Ti'taris Awakening Chapter One “I can’t miss it! I can’t. Just can’t!” The woman raced to unlock the door. Hearing the click, she opened the door, slamming it shut behind her while grabbing the remote on the table by the door. Clicking a button, the large flat screen television flared to life. Tossing her briefcase, Lysse kicked off her shoes followed by vaulting over the back of her sofa, until she landed on it. Music reached her ears as an opening sequence of an animated character fought against evil incarnate. Sighing, the young woman reclined against the sofa. “Made it, just in time. Today’s episode is the climax in the battle between Namorian and Ephram. Go Ram!” Sucked into the storyline, Lysse spent the next hour living the classic battle of good versus evil. Throughout the show, she spoke encouragement, made comments, and reacted to the twists and turns in the episode. As the show came to the ending, Lysse gasped. “You can’t leave it like that! Oh hell, I’m going to have to take a day off of work next week! No fucking way." The credits played, reminding Lysse that she left a mess upon her arrival. Shaking her head, she picked up her shoes and put them in the nearby closet and moved her briefcase to her home office. She hesitated a moment, her eyes glancing at the computer, but decided it was better to not even be tempted. There wouldn’t be a hint of the next episode for at least another couple of hours. With a rueful sigh, Lysse went to her bedroom and changed her clothes. What was it about Ti’taris Awakening that seemed to call to her soul? It was just a cartoon, but there was something more than that. The setting was outstanding, so real, but at the same time, there was something about the lead character, Ephram. His voice was pure rough silk and brandy; his looks were pure bad boy with a hint of platinum. She knew the voice actor, Devlin Roarke, and though he was handsome, his natural voice wasn’t the same as he did for Ephram. The joys of working in the media industry were she got to meet the people who did the voice work for many cartoons, commercials, and such. When she heard the concept behind Ti’taris Awakening, Lysse had been simply amazed and negotiated its serial in the US. The company she worked with had taken her advice to heart and now they were reaping the rewards of the merchandising as well as the children and adults watching the program religiously. Even she couldn’t help but be pulled into the world of Ti’taris. Having read the background and the character bios, Lysse found herself almost seeing the world as she worked and lived helping the show to become its own reality. For a while, she put it down as preproduction jitters, but now, now she was completely and utterly hooked. Lysse busied herself, making her meal, poring over her work on a couple of contracts dealing with two upcoming films, one of which dealt with a live action version of Ti’taris Awakening. She chuckled remembering hearing Jacob Stevenson saying, “Tit ahris” for the name instead of “Tee tahris.” Correcting him hadn’t helped much, but he was going to stay to the original storyline as much as possible. Of course, she wasn’t able to answer the only question he had. “Who created this show?” That was the ultimate question. Who created the show and managed to produce such an absorbing critique of humanity, of good versus evil? Try as she might, Lysse couldn’t get behind the mounds of legalese and roadblocks thrown in her way. Normally, she could get around anything, but this remained out of her reach. Just when she thought she was getting close, things would suddenly close up. Her eyes strayed towards her computer then to her watch. He’d be on. Maybe, just maybe he’d give her another clue to finding Ti’taris Awakening’s author. Before she realized it, Lysse stood before the computer, booting it up. Sitting in her chair, she logged online quickly, signing into her messenger system while putting her email client to work. Lysse scanned her emails, deleting the junk before catching sight of a name. Stopping, she smiled. He had written her early this morning. Lysse, Just wanted you to know I’m not sure I’ll be online tonight. Work is beyond unbearable. Keeping the thought of talking to you as a reward if I can beat back the savage beast to his chamber. Have you considered my offer? I don’t want to rush you, but to be honest, I’d love to finally meet in person. Your safety comes first though, so whatever you deem best. Always, E. Mikkelson. Softly, she caressed the screen. He always signed it with his initial. A half smile crossed her face. She knew it was because he was afraid people would equate him with the character Ephram as they shared the same name. Over and again, she told him not everyone would make that comparison, but he told her of the times he had with others who did. She couldn’t blame him for his reluctance, but since most people referred to the character by his nickname, Ram, she didn’t think it was an issue. Yet, it touched her to see him sign his name, including his last name as an act of faith. Maybe it was time to meet him in person. Deciding that it was time once again to creep out of the shell of seclusion she wove around her, she replied. She was off this weekend and if he were willing, she’d love to meet him somewhere public, like the local bookstore. They could get a drink, talk books and go from there. Hitting the send button, Lysse closed her eyes and released her breath. Fear curled around her heart briefly. She wasn’t much to look at, fairly plain actually. What if she wasn’t like he expected? Too late now for regrets, Lysse. Just deal with it. Finishing the rest of her email, Lysse prepared to log off when her messenger showed Ephram logging on. E_Mikkel: Lysse, you there? Lysse_Astarte: I’m here. You okay, Ephram? Things go okay at work? E_Mikkel: Something like that. Just recovered enough to get online. How was your day? Lysse_Astarte: ☺ Almost missed today’s episode, but got there in the nick of time. Did you see it? E_Mikkel: Saw the last 45 minutes of it. Was quite spectacular. Amazing sequence with how Namorian managed to grab Mara and cut Ram’s arm. What do you think are the consequences that Namorian raved about? Lysse_Astarte: *thinks * Honestly, I’m wondering if he’s talking about the way the war is tearing up the lands. The more I watch it, the more it reminds me of here with our environmental versus big business. Yet, at the same time, it’s different. We know the earth can renew itself given a chance, but when you give the land and its people no breaks, no time to heal, then in a way, you destroy the foundations. E_Mikkel: I thought so too. What I found interesting is that Ram thinks by ridding Namorian, all things will be settled. Lysse_Astarte: Yeah. Unfortunately, it’ll take more than just stopping Namorian before that happens. He’s also got his followers and the generals who have control of their areas. But getting rid of the head will make it easier to negotiate peace from a position of power. I only hope that Ram realizes that death alone won’t stop the destruction of Ti’taris. He needs to also begin a campaign to rectify the wrongs done on both sides. E_Mikkel: What do you mean by that? *lifts brow* Lysse_Astarte: I mean Ram’s army has done wrong too. Yes, it’s in the name of peace, justice, and balance, but they’ve still done wrong. If they don’t rectify the errors and harm they’ve done, then they’re just as guilty of lording over the peoples of Ti’taris as are Namorian and his henchmen. But by going back and making tithe to the land, just as Galzora asked, then it would be the first step to showing they’re not of the same mold. E_Mikkel: Great point, Lysse. I hadn’t considered that aspect at all. Since Galzora is the Soul of Ti’taris, she would know how the land feels. Lysse_Astarte: More importantly, I think she’s a physical manifestation of the land and the people. Just as Mara is the heart of the Llewadaghs and Van is the head of the Tuathas, Galzora is the living representative of Ti’taris, letting Ram know what the land expects of him when he rules. E_Mikkel: ☺ You’re damn good at seeing this, Lysse. Too bad you’re not an advisor to the show. I see you got my email. Lysse_Astarte: * blush* Yes, I did. I’d love to finally meet you in person. Are you available this weekend? *bites lip nervously * E_Mikkel: Yes! Are you sure you want to do this? Lysse_Astarte: I’m sure. Just worried once you see me that you’ll regret it. E_Mikkel: *taps Lysse on head * No, remember you’ve shown me your picture before. You’re beautiful and I’d be honoured to be hanging at your side. Lysse_Astarte: Flattery will get you most anywhere that chocolate won’t. How about Patterson’s Bookshop around 2? E_Mikkel: Sounds like a plan. I’ll be in jeans, hiking boots, and prolly my Ti’taris Awakening t-shirt. I’ve got short spiky almost black hair, brown eyes, and a crooked grin. Lysse_Astarte: *tilts head and grins mischievously * You sure you’re not— E_Mikkel: Lysse Myrlene Astarte! Don’t you dare imply that! Lysse_Astarte: * giggles * Whatever do you mean, Ephram? E_Mikkel: Playing coy won’t work, Madame. I know exactly what you were implying. Lysse_Astarte: Well, dammit, Ephram, the description is one we hear all the time about Ram. What did you expect? *    *    * That was the question- what did Ephram expect? He rubbed his bandaged arm, looked at the instant message (IM) with a ragged sigh. Running a hand through his spiky hair, he tried to figure out why on some level it bugged him that she tried to equate him, even playfully, with Ephram on Ti’taris. Uh, because it’s true, asshole? Because you need her to help you save your world and in turn save hers? E_Mikkel: Not sure, perhaps that you’d think me different? Lysse_Astarte: You are different, Ephram. Very much so. But you used the exact same description that Galzora did in the third episode in describing him to Mara. I was just teasing, Ephram. I’m sorry. ☹ Ephram cursed. He’d forgotten that Gal had described him exactly that way when Mara and Van had asked about him. That was one of the problems in having a special recorder that taped and rotoscoped everything into anime form to be sent to the shadow world known as Earth. E_Mikkel: No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I had totally forgotten Galzora’s description. Trust me when I say my description is unintentionally like Ram’s. Lysse_Astarte: You sure you’re not mad at me? E_Mikkel: * hugs you tightly * I’m sure. I’m just a bit on edge dealing with work and a pain in the ass competitor. Lysse_Astarte: * hugs back * That sucks, Ephram. Tomorrow will be better? E_Mikkel: I can only hope. What about you? Lysse_Astarte: I’m catching up on the end of the workweek. Just some things to straighten up and then get the contracts for the T.A. movie into the right hands. After next week, I’m on vacation. Whooo hooo! E_Mikkel: Congrats, lady. What you doing for your vacation? Lysse_Astarte: Not sure. Prolly hang out here at the apartment. Depends on how I feel. E_Mikkel: Too bad you couldn’t come spend time with me while I go gallivanting around. Lysse_Astarte: That’s right, you’re going away for a couple of weeks. * pouts * I’ll miss our conversations. E_Mikkel: You wouldn’t if you come with me. * winks * Lysse_Astarte: * shakes head* You flirt! I bet you say that to all the women you know. I don’t know if I could leave and not be available by phone or computer. Not with the movie deal like it is right now. E_Mikkel: Once we meet, think on it, okay? It’d be fun having a friend around while I do my play job. Lysse_Astarte: I’ll consider it. It does sound more fun than sitting home alone. Ephram smiled. This woman wasn’t easily persuaded, but from the moment they met via email, chat, and through his lawyers, he knew she was special. It was only when she got him the coveted TV airtime on a major network that he realized she had something special, perhaps even a gift of power from Ti’taris. Then he saw her picture and knew their fates were linked beyond the two realms, Reality and Shadow. How could he explain when they met that she lived in Shadow and that Ti’taris was the land of Reality? Would she even believe him? Hell, he was the spitting image of his anime character, as he never thought he’d ever see a person from Shadow. Yet, he was going to go into the Shadow world to meet the beautiful Lysse and try to convince her to come save his world and hers. Ram knew that if they failed and Ti’taris fell, it would be only a matter of time before Earth fell as well. Lysse dying was unacceptable. The idea tore at his soul, knowing he would do anything to save the woman. Thus, Ram lived with the dilemma of knowing that heavy lays the crown of rulership. Men had died for him, women had longed for him, and he only knew pain and suffering would worsen if he lost. But Galzora promised him that she from the other land would be the key to victory, if only he could have her trust. Time was running out and now he had to get her help. They talked a while longer on other things as Ram took notes on the changes wrought by his war with Namorian. These helped him to keep on target, not to mention that Lysse’s advice had proven sage on many occasions, none of which, when seen by her and the viewing audience even hinted at Lysse that there was something more going on. Finally, he sent her to bed, promising to see her on Saturday. Leaning back in his chair, he let out a sigh. “Let me guess—Lysse is playing hard to get?” Van asked as he entered Ephram’s room. “No, in fact, we’re meeting on Saturday. It’s just hard knowing I’m still deceiving her.” “Look Ram, if there were another way, we’d have done it. I don’t like that we’re lying to a Shadow person either, but we have no choice. Not until we meet her and get her to Ti’taris.” Ram’s dark brown eyes took in the grey eyes of his best friend, Van Sethos. “I’m wondering if she’s a full Shadow person, Van.” “What?” “There’s something about her that radiates unusual, even among the Shadow People. Even the half breed lawyers we have noted it.” Van’s pale brow lifted under his long bangs. “You think she’s part Ti’tarisian?” Ram nodded. “Yeah, I do.” “That could complicate things.” “Or make them better.” “Yeah.” Van squeezed Ram’s shoulder. “We’ll muddle through this. Watching her on the cams has been interesting. She’s not the usual type I’d go for, but there is something very inviting about her.” Ram growled. “Yeah, but she’s not your type. Remember that.” “Jealousy already? The mighty Ram has fallen.” “Fuck off, Van. It’s not that.” Van chuckled. “As you say, Sire. I’m heading to bed. The guards are up and doing their rounds. We should be okay for the night.” “Thanks, Van. See you and Mara in the morning.” “Night, Ram. Get some sleep.” Ram never let his eyes wander from the monitor as he keyed in the code that pulled up the special remote recorder that allowed him to watch over Lysse. His body tightened as she crawled naked into bed, her body pale against the navy blue sheets and matching comforter. Every night he could, he watched her while she fell asleep, sometimes waking up to an unbearable pressure as their dreams merged, causing him to seek a hands on relief to the sexual tension she brought to him and his life. He had a feeling tonight would be like none other. Their dream bond seemed to be even stronger after she watched the latest episode of Ti’taris Awakening. Hopefully tonight he could convince her in the dreams that he needed her to come with him and to give him trust when they met. Without it, both their worlds would be doomed.