#so go cry a river somewhere else please

[getting-messi]

Hearing what some of y’all are saying, I’ll NEVER forget the clownery of the 2018 FIFA The Best

[golden1u5t]

jj’s confession | s.r x fem!reader

ꨄ requested: anonymous

ꨄ genre: angst

ꨄ summary: the aftermath of jj’s fuck up 

the second the team got back to the office, you ran to spencer and pulled him into a hug. spencer hadn't been expecting you to be at the office when they got back from the case. you pulled back and cupped his face, your eyes scanned his face to make sure he wasn't bruised up or anything.

"i was worried about you." you mumbled, you continued to check him out until you noticed how unfocused he was. you tried to shove it off as him responding to the effects of the case but when you followed his gaze and looked over your shoulder, you knew that wasn't the case. even though jj was with will, she had her eyes focused on spencer.

you had known about spencer's old crush on jj and you'd accepted it and moved on, he'd told you that you had nothing to worry about when it came to their friendship and since you trusted him, you believed him. you took a step back and let your hand fall down to your sides, you looked back at spencer and cleared your throat.

spencer finally looked at you for the first time since he'd walked through the door, you figured it was because ji's attention was directed somewhere else. when spencer's eyes met yours, you could tell something had happened between them while they were gone. his eyes were filled with guilt as he stared at you, he knew he was going to have to tell you about it but he wasn't prepared for your reaction. so he reached for your hand, you let him take it.

"i'm tired, we should get going." he attempted at giving you a genuine smile but it never reached his eyes, you stayed silent as you watched his eyes dart over to her for a brief moment before turning back to you. "we can get takeout for dinner, your favorite place."

you pulled your hand from his and let it fall back to your side. you weren't that much of a crier but god, you sure felt like you could cry a river as you watched your relationship start to crumble right in front of you. "no, i think- i think you should tell me now what happened between you two.” 

"can we just- can we not? not right now, im tired."

"no, i need to know now if im going to be leaving here by myself tonight." spencer sighed before pulling you away from everyone else and into a more secluded area.

"when we're being held hostage, the unsub made us- he made ji tell a secret she'd never told anyone before." he ran his hand through his hair before stuffing his hands in his pockets. "she told me that she loved me but i'm not-"

"do you love her back?" you bit the inside of your cheek, spencer's silence was like a stab to the heart. tears welled in your eyes and a sudden wave of anger washed over you, he didn't even have the decency to look you in the eye. "god, spencer, fucking answer me!"

he couldn't, his words were lodged in his throat. spencer hated seeing you break down in front of him, he hated knowing that he'd put you in such a vulnerable position when he knows how much you hate being vulnerable.

"i don't know! i don't- i don't know what i feel for her. i don't even know if she was being honest or just making it up, plus, she's married and-and she has kids." you scoffed and shook your head, you took a step back and put your hand out when he tried to reach out for you. "y/n, please."

"me or her?" spencer just stared at you, once again not being able to answer you. "; think i should go, call me if and when you figure this out."

you turned around and headed for the door, you didn't miss the way jj looked at you as you passed. you thought spencer would at least come after you, explain that he didn't need to think about it and that he loved you, but he didn't.

[mrchiipchrome]

Softlaunch

yourinstagram

yourinstagram hey, can you get me a glass of water? 

leahwilliamsonn no

 ↳yourinstagram meanie:(

    ↳leahwilliamsonn cry me a river

       ↳yourinstagram I’m telling Amanda

bethmead awww alvin is getting so big now

stanwaygeorgia i’m so ready to jump on a flight for some alvin cuddles

  ↳yourinstagram i feel so betrayed, WHAT ABOUT ME

     ↳stanwaygeorgia and some Y/n cuddles ofc

        ↳yourinstagram nope, too late now

           ↳stanwaygeorgia noooo i’m sorryyyyy

wosoforeverrrrr alvin needs his own account stat

    ↳yourinstagram don’t worry, i might have something up my sleeve…

       ↳wosoforeverrrrr YOOO WHAT

keirawalsh missing alvin hours

wosomyheart i would give you anything babe

    ↳fanofwoso EXCUSE ME LMAO

alessia

alessia mmm sure

alessiarussonr1 this is actually her accepting my proposal xx

   ↳russoswife ummm obviously you haven’t seen our wedding photos

ellatoone 🥤💪🏻😁

  ↳yourinstagram ella what the actual flip are you doing

    ↳wosolover NOT FLIP😭

lottewubbenmoy looking good lovieee

yourinstagram i would lose my account again if i said what i was thinking xx

  ↳alessia Y/N Y/L/N 

arsenalfan i love besties hyping each other up

stephcately invite me the next timeeeeeee

   ↳alessia only if you bring calv

     ↳stephcately bring alvin and we have a deal

wosodetective anyone else think it’s a little suspicious that steph wants Less to bring Y/n’s dog with her?

   ↳leavemealone no actually i don’t

yourinstagram

yourinstagram you were out there somewhere and you weren’t looking for me?!

whatinthewoso love the caption

stinablackstenius always taking up the entire bench

   ↳yourinstagram are you calling me fat?

     ↳stinablackstenius no

wosomyheart bruh i’d give anything to sit on her lap

 ↳wosoxwoso mate you need to get a life

kyracooneyx don’t be fooled, she let alvin attack me just before this

  ↳yourinstagram BLASPHEMY MY BABY BOY HAS DONE NOTHING WRONG 

     ↳lovinalvin FREE MY BOY

leahwilliamsonn why are you like this

  ↳yourinstagram STOP THIS BULLYING

swedishwosofan y/n sitting like shes about to say ‘välkommen till mina områden’ 💀

alessia

location: Somewhere Out There

alessia look who came to visit

yourinstagram love my boy but he absolutely killed my hand the second he saw you

  ↳alessia you’re just jealous he loves me more

    ↳yourinstagram b-b-b-b-blocked

leahwilliamsonn @/yourinstagram you’re such a nerd 

  ↳yourinstagram THIS ISN’T EVEN MY POST WHY ARE YOU BULLYING ME

     ↳leahwilliamsonn because it’s fun

katie_mccabe11 let me kidnap him

  ↳yourinstagram no

bethmead loved seeing my little baby again:)

  ↳mylemeadema woof:(

     ↳bethmead nooo mylie moo i didn’t mean it like that

w.saliba mon petit amour, il est le plus mignon du monde 

  ↳arsenal alvin 🤝 william saliba

wosodetective hmm interesting

yourinstagram

yourinstagram love me

wosomyheart give me a chance and i will

  ↳russoswife bro go touch some grass, it’s getting unhealthy

    ↳alessiarussonr1 yeah bro listen to my wife bc she’s right

ona.batlle dream girl <3

  ↳wosoapprentice are they dating?

     ↳arsenalbarca you do know people can compliment others without dating right?

1maryearps i can be the 1 for you

  ↳yourinstagram sorry love, need 22 more

     ↳1maryearps i’ll steal you

        ↳yourinstagram please don’t

jordannobbs miss you and alvin

  ↳yourinstagram come home, the kids miss you:(

jbeattie91 alvin wants to come across the pond to visit auntie jen

  ↳yourinstagram when did he say this

alessia

alessia amazing

mylemeadema woof woof

  ↳alvinthebuddy woof woof woof 

      ↳mylemeadema ruff woof ruff

alvinthebuddy who’s that pretty lady

  ↳wosogossip not y/n wingmanning for alvin and alvin wingmanning for y/n

liawalti looking cozy there

leahwilliamsonn really enjoyed the evening for the first time since @/yourinstagram joined

  ↳yourinstagram WHAT HAVE I DONE YOU

    ↳leahwilliamsonn you ate the last ice cream

alessia23lover loml

  ↳yourinstagram fr

wosodetective y/n commenting that alessia is the love of their life hmmm

  ↳woso123darling bro she was pretty clearly joking

arsenalfan we see you y/n

yourinstagram just so everyone knows IM SINGLE

  ↳1maryearps not for long

     ↳yourinstagram this feels weirdly threatening

yourinstagram

yourinstagram they said it was market price, WHAT MARKET ARE YOU SHOPPING AT?

lucybronze these captions keep getting wilder

chloekelly love the shirt

stanwaygeorgia answer my facetime or else

  ↳yourinstagram you don’t scare me

    ↳stanwaygeorgia i’ll send magda on you if you’re not careful

       ↳yourinstagram when do you want to call?

russoswife y/n being scared of magda eriksson was not on my bingo card

  ↳alessiarussonr1 she’s literally my roman empire

arsenal when you find out please tell me so that i can avoid it

  ↳yourinstagram help me find it please, it’s getting ridiculous

alessia i literally saw y/n cry when she saw the prices

  ↳yourinstagram STOP EXPOSING ME

alvinthebuddy grr grr ruff ruff

  ↳yourinstagram i know buddy, i’m sorry that you didn’t get the good food but i needed food too

     ↳alvinthebuddy GRRR GRRR

wosomyheart i’ll help you find the market baby

  ↳norflondonforever bro legit find a hobby

alessia

alessia i’m going to run

ellatoone thanks for the clarification love, we totally don’t see the treadmills behind you

  ↳alessia shut up

mayaletissier come by for a coffee when you’re in manny next

racheldaly3 gorgeous gorgeous girl

  ↳yourinstagram real

russo23 y/n snitching on herself is so real, we get it girl

  ↳londonisred she’s actually so me

leahwilliamsonn yess beautiful

  ↳yourinstagram first time ever you’ve been right

    ↳leahwilliamsonn shut your mouth

      ↳yourinstagram i know where you live

        ↳leahwilliamsonn boo hoo

arsenalw serving cunt ml

alvinthebuddy come over

  ↳alessiarussonr1 y/n using alvins account to flirt with alessia will never not be funny 😭

wosowives i love literal captions

yourinstagram

yourinstagram be the batman to my spiderman? 

leahwilliamsonn are you stupid, those are two entirely different universes

  ↳yourinstagram obviously i know that, i’m a nerd

victoriapelova i know a certain someone who’s definitely getting flashbacks…

  ↳russofilms WHAT DO YOU MEAN

kyracooneyx i think i’ll pass xx

  ↳yourinstagram -everyone that sees you on tinder

wosomyheart i’m tired of saying it, but if you give me a chance i could be everything you need and more

   ↳y/nindoors bro try going to sleep instead of harassing our queen

      ↳alessiarussonr1 you ate 

alessia

alessia best of three

yourinstagram …is behind the camera

  ↳kyracooneyx shut up

yourinstagram the one on the left tho

  ↳alessia no.

norflondonforever i adore the jackets

  ↳alessiasrussos they’re literally triplets

y/nrusso i love alessia shutting y/n down like that 😭

yourinstagram DARLINGGG GUESS WHO'S BACK FROM JAIIIIL

  ↳kimlittle1990 you went to jail? we’re talking about this at training

    ↳yourinstagram NO NO I DIDN'T IT'S JUST A TREND

arsenal not y/n getting scolded by skip 😭

yourinstagram

yourinstagram just pretend like you were asleep…

stanwaygeorgia I KNEW THAT WAS WHAT YOU WERE DOING

  ↳yourinstagram shhhh no you didn’t

wosodetective does anyone think that looks like alessia?

wosomyheart you’ll never have to pretend with me

  ↳spurssuck bro take a hint

lucybronze i’m telling sarina 

  ↳yourinstagram come on luce don’t be like that

    ↳lucybronze stop putting fake bugs in my bed and i might

      ↳yourinstagram i’m just a girl

niamhcharles17 we need to do it again, loved hearing hempo scream

yourinstagram

yourinstagram the troy to my abed @/alessia

alessia my loveee

  ↳yourinstagram my universeee

leahwilliamsonn ugh finally i don’t have to pretend that i didn’t know

  ↳yourinstagram will you finally stop being mean

     ↳leahwilliamsonn no

wosodetective I TOLD Y’ALL, I FUCKING KNEW IT

alessiarussonr1 honestly fair enough, this was the best soft launch of all time

communitywoso NO BC YALL DONT UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH THOUGHT WENT INTO THIS LIKE THEY QUOTED TROY AND ABED IN THEIR CAPTIONS USING THE SAME SCENES LIKE THEY WERE TALKING TO EACH OTHER

   ↳abedswoso not only that but like y/n’s spiderman picture, donald glover has been fancasted as miles morales so many times so like that was genius. 

wosofacts y/n likes community?

  ↳russo23 THATS WHAT YOU DECIDE TO FOCUS ON?? but yeah she said it in some interview ages ago

wosomyheart so i don’t have a shot?

  ↳fanofwoso how stupid can you be

    ↳wosoxwoso so i see @/wosomyheart still hasn’t gotten a life

      ↳russoswife yeah no i don’t think they’ll ever get one right @/alessiarussonr1

       ↳alessiarussonr1 yeah i mean it’s been forever i think we’ve all lost hope

        ↳norflondonforever i don’t even know what to say anymore

         ↳spurssuck how desperate can you be like fr

bethmead cuties

arsenal our fav dog moms 

softlaunchwoso i guess i’ll have to add another couple to my list

alessia

alessia troy and abed in the morning

liawalti too cute

yourinstagram if your left leg is halloween and your right leg is christmas, can i visit you between the holidays?

  ↳alessia i knew this would happen

russoswife i guess i’ll have to change my insta handle now:(

  ↳alessiarussonr1 change it to alessiarussonr1swife 

wosomywoso i love how this relationship has brought people together, like literally two people got together bc of them

giorgiorusso94 the whole russo family send their love

  ↳they/l/nfamily don’t forget us

katie_mccabe11 no more secretsss

kyracooneyx how did everyone EXCEPT me know?

  ↳yourinstagram you would’ve told literally everyone.

   ↳kyracooneyx fair enough

alvinthebuddy woof woof woof ruff woof

  ↳yourinstagram thanks buddy

    ↳alessia thank you vinnie

-------

sorry y'all i geeked out massively i just found it funny😭

[whumptober]

FAQ

Please read this post before you send an ask!

TIMELINE

July: Trope voting form released. Late August: Prompt list is released for at least four weeks of preparation time. Prompts cannot be posted earlier than August 25th because of Moderator obligations in real life. (But, you know, go ahead and start writing/drawing, and add the themes in later, if you want!) September: Do as much or as little on your works as you want. You can prepare everything in advance or let September go by with vibes and start working in October. It’s up to you. October 1st: Challenge begins! A storm of whump breaks upon us all! During this time, some posts will be reblogged to the whumptober archive blog. We open the yearly AO3 collection for posting (optional). November 1st: The challenge is officially over! Completionist form opens for those who want to be included in the hall-of-fame. Early November: We release completionist and participant badges, solicit feedback, and post a hall-of-fame list of completionists by the 10th.

PARTICIPATION AND COMPLETION

Q: What counts as participation? Create or continue at least one work inspired by one of this year’s prompts. Q: What counts as completion? Creating work(s) inspired by at least one prompt from each day (or alts), for a total of 31 unique prompts. Q: Do I need to create 31 works? No. You can, if you want. Or you can create one work that you add to every day with a new prompt. Or several works that combine prompts. You can also update an existing work by adding new material with the current prompts. Q: Do I need to post my works somewhere to be a completionist or a participant? No. Q: How do you know I actually completed the challenge? We’ll take your word for it! Q: Do I have to finish my work(s) to be a completionist? No, you can post WIPs. And you’re not obligated to finish them in October, but if you want it to count towards being a completionist, you must have completed 31 prompts by the end of the month. So for example, if you’re writing a long fic and you fit 31 different prompts into the writing you did in October, it’s okay if that fic isn’t finished by the time October ends, you’ll still be a completionist. Q: Is co-writing/illustrating allowed? Yes, absolutely, and it would count towards being a completionist for both/all of you. Q: Is there a min/max limit on word count for written works? No. Q: Is there a min/max limit of quality for art? No. Q: Do I have to do something each day to be a completionist? No. You can skip days whenever you want, and as long as 31 daily prompts (or alts) are in your works done in October, you can be a completionist. For example, if you wrote a 1000-word ficlet that covers prompts in days 2, 3, and 17, you can check all three days off your list even though it’s only one work. Q: Is this challenge just for fics? No! Artworks, GIFsets, headcannons, rec lists, poetry, moodboards, or any other creative work is encouraged. Q: Can I combine Whumptober with other creation challenges? Absolutely, as long as the other challenges allow it too.

PROMPTS

Q: How do the prompts work? There are FOUR prompts per day: a theme and three ideas. You can use one, two, three, or all four prompts for each day. If you don’t like any of the daily prompts, you can substitute one of the ALT prompts instead. Q: How strictly/literally should we interpret the prompts? As literally or as figuratively as you want. For example, if the theme is WATER, that could mean drowning, waterboarding, raining, swimming, take place underwater, be lost at sea, construct a metaphor about a character’s mood that changes like a flowing river, crying, or whatever else you can think of that fits that theme. Q: Can I combine prompts? Is there a limit on how many? No limit and combine as many as you’d like. If you create a work that checks off multiple prompts, that work will count for a fill of multiple prompts. You need to address 31 different prompts to be an official completionist, but you don’t have to produce 31 separate works.

WORKS

Q: What’s whump? Hurting a character, whether that’s physically, emotionally, intellectually, psychologically, or any other way you can think of. Comfort afterwards is optional. Angst is emotional whump, so it counts. Q: How do I know if it’s whumpy enough? If your character is just mildly inconvenienced, it probably needs more whump. However, no participant has to prove whumpiness to the mods. Whatever you write is up to you. Q: What kind of characters can I create for? Anything. Generic “whumpee,” OC, PC, NPC, major characters, minor characters, or whatever you want. There are no limits. Q: Does it have to take place in a specific fandom? No, you can create works for your own worlds or for fandoms or for both. You can also create more generic or pan-fandom works. You can do cross-overs or use OCs, whatever you want. Q: Can I create AI-created works? No. We will not reblog or promote any works we know to be generative AI-created. Q: Is there anything we’re not allowed to write? As long as it contains whump and is based on our prompts, it’s fine. Please courtesy tag your works if you post them so people who follow the #whumptober2024 tag can filter according to their preferences. Q: What about sex, minor characters, and potentially disturbing content? You can create whatever works are legal in your country and post them accordingly. Please courtesy tag anything you think might be objectionable if you post to Tumblr so people who follow the #whumptober2024 tag can filter according to their preferences.

POSTING

Q: Where can I post my work? Post where and how you want. You don’t even have to (cross)post it to Tumblr. Just keep in mind if it’s not on Tumblr we will not be able to add it to the blog archive. There is an AO3 archive for Whumptober 2024, as well as the parent collection for works completed outside of the event. Q: Can I start posting early? You can, but this is an October event and wouldn’t it be more fun with everyone doing it at the same time? We won’t be reblogging any work predating October 1st. Q: Can I post late? Yes. For the sake of our hardworking Post Fairies, only a day’s themes will be reblogged to @whumptober-archive each day of October. But you can post whenever. Some of us are still working on and posting Whumptober fics from years ago. Q: Do I have to use your tags? Only on Tumblr and only if you want us to reblog your work on @whumptober-archive. Q: How do I have my works reblogged to the archive? Properly tagged posts will be reblogged to @whumptober-archive. If you want the official archive blog to reblog you, post on Tumblr and tag correctly (see this FAQ link for more info on tagging). Please note not all posts will be reblogged each day. Q: Can we @ you? For questions and comments, of course. We’ll be getting a flood of notifications, so if you really want us to see something send an ask. Q: Can I cross post on other blogs? Yes, multiple platforms and blogs are perfectly acceptable, as long as they allow cross-posting (to us). You can also post different works to different accounts under different names, without posting them everywhere at once. If you post some works under your main and others under an alt blog, that’s fine for completionist purposes. Q: Can I upload/repost my Whumptober content to other social media platforms? Of course! We’ve created an AO3 Collection to archive any fics posted there, which can be found here. The blog is the official archive, so please respect the personal boundaries of any whumpers in your social circle (don’t out anyone as a participant who would prefer not to be outed).

[from-memphis-with-love]

Songbird - Chapter 1 - The International

Summary: The year is 1969. The place, The International Hotel. Aspiring young singer Valerie Pedretti has a chance encounter with Elvis Presley in an elevator that will changer life forever, for both good and bad. Author's Notes: You guys, I am incorrigible. I know. Constantly going back to old fics to reread and retool them. I think I finally got it right this time. If you will indulge, please read from chapter 1 again. I think you'll like it.

To me, 1967-1971 EP is kind of peak Elvis, and so I wanted to write a fic with him smack dab in that time period. In the 1969-1970 period, especially, Elvis was probably the most handsome and alluring man in the galaxy.

Lots of anachronisms and historical inaccuracies in this one, but just roll with it because it's fun! For example: Elvis in real life did not eat seafood but in a later chapter, we find out not only does he eat it but he has an allergy to it. It's for the narrative, I promise. :-)

I based Valerie, in a sense, off of a mixture of Kathy Westmoreland - who I find immensely dry and boring IRL but who had a cool meeting story with Elvis, as well as Joyce Bova and Linda Thompson. Kathy met the real Elvis for the first time in an elevator, and that really inspired this work. Priscilla exists in this universe but she and Elvis get a divorce far earlier than in real life. Theirs, in some ways like real life, is a marriage of convenience and an "arrangement." Lisa Marie does not exist in this universe.

Vegas hit me like a slap in the face with a rhinestone glove. The kind of place that promises you the moon and delivers green cheese, but damn if you don't want to believe in it anyway. My cab rolled down the strip toward the International Hotel, and I pressed my forehead against the window like a kid at a candy store, watching the greatest show on earth scroll by in technicolor.

It was July 1969, just days after Neil Armstrong had bounced around on the moon, and the whole world still felt drunk on the idea that anything was possible. We cruised down the Strip, past Caesar's Palace with its Roman statues standing sentinel in the desert heat, past the Flamingo where Bugsy Siegel’s ghost still lingered, straight toward the International Hotel where my own small shot at glory waited.

I didn't know it yet, but I was about to have what my mother would call A Significant Moment. The kind that divides your life into Before and After, like a vinyl record with its A and B sides. But right then, all I knew was that I was tired, my clothes were a disaster, and I was woefully unprepared for tomorrow's audition.

The audition. Good lord, let's not even go there yet.

I pressed my forehead against the cool glass, watching sequined showgirls and sailors on shore leave blur past in a kaleidoscope of color. The radio was playing "In the Year 2525," and somewhere in the city, Frank Sinatra was preparing for another show. The same Frank Sinatra I'd be auditioning for tomorrow, assuming I didn't die of nerves first.

The cabbie jerked to the curb in front of the International. "That'll be four-fifty, miss." I handed him a wrinkled five and stepped out into air so hot it felt like opening an oven door. The scene that greeted me stopped me dead in my tracks.

The place was absolute bedlam. Not your usual Vegas chaos either – this was something else entirely. The International Hotel lobby looked like Elvis Presley had exploded all over it. You know those old Bible pictures of saints with the beams of light shooting out of them? Picture that, but with pompadours and rhinestones. His face was everywhere - posters, cardboard cutouts, even pins that said "I ❤️ ELVIS" in letters that could probably be seen from space.

Crowds of women with hair teased higher than their hopes pressed against velvet ropes, many of them clutching signs that said things like "Elvis We Love You" and "Marry Me EP!" Some were crying. Actually crying, their mascara running in black rivers down their cheeks. Security guards with arms like Christmas hams tried to maintain order, while vendors worked the crowd selling everything from buttons to teddy bears to – I kid you not – little vials of water supposedly blessed by the man himself. 

That's when it hit me. This wasn't just any weekend at the International. This was the kickoff of Elvis Presley's big comeback residency. Ground zero for Elvis-mania.

"Well, shit," I muttered, suddenly feeling like the universe's favorite cosmic joke. Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, I had to walk into the one where the King was holding court.

The lobby was even worse. The air was thick with cigarette smoke and Aqua Net, and somewhere a speaker was playing "Love Me Tender" like it was heavenly muzak. I'd never quite understood the hysteria around Elvis. Sure, he was handsome in his own way, but what was it about him that made grown women act like teenagers?

I caught my reflection in one of the many mirrors and winced. My dark curls had gone feral in the desert heat, my mascara was smudged, and the coffee stain on my blouse looked even worse under the chandelier lights. I looked exactly like what I was – a girl who'd spent six hours trapped on a delayed flight from Chicago, stress-eating Oreos and reading the same magazine until the pages wore thin.

The blonde behind the check-in desk was reading Variety when I approached. Her name tag said BRENDA but her expression said DON'T BOTHER ME.

"Checking in?" she asked without looking up. "Name?"

"Reservation should be under Deena Lovelace."

That got her attention. Her penciled eyebrows shot up as she gave me a head-to-toe assessment that left frost on her glasses. "You're Deena? The one auditioning for Sinatra tomorrow? We spoke on the phone, remember?"

I gritted my teeth into what I hoped passed for a smile. "No, actually. I'm Valerie. Deena's friend. She's sick, so I'm filling in."

Brenda's look could have frozen hell over, but she handed me a key. "Room 2806. If you need anything, ask for Hector."

A bellhop materialized – Hector himself, I assumed – reaching for my bags. I waved him off with what turned out to be misplaced confidence. "I can manage."

The thing about the International Hotel was that it had been designed by someone who believed strongly in giving guests the full maze experience. Every corridor looked identical, with the same gold-flecked mirrors and deep crimson carpet. The crowds thinned out as I wandered deeper into the building's heart, the sounds of Elvis-mania fading to a distant hum.

My feet were screaming bloody murder in my go-go boots. My arms ached from dragging my overpacked suitcases. And my chances of actually finding room 2806 seemed about as likely as Elvis himself appearing to give me directions.

I ended up in a quiet hallway that felt different from the others. The carpet was thicker here, the lighting softer, the wood paneling probably worth more than my car. Even the air felt expensive. I should have realized I'd wandered into restricted territory, but by then my dogs were barking so loud I couldn't think straight.

The elevator, when I found it, was elegant in an understated way – all dark wood and soft lighting. No bright brass or mirrors like the tourist elevators. I was too tired to question my good fortune. I kicked off my boots, letting my screaming feet sink into that plush carpet, and started humming without thinking. It was an old lullaby my mother used to sing, the kind that lives in your bones and comes out when your guard is down.

The elevator arrived with a soft ding. I dragged my bags inside and slumped against the wall, already dreaming of a hot bath and a soft bed. The doors started to close and I was finally alone. Or I thought I was. Then a hand shot out—a big hand with rings that could double as brass knuckles—and stopped the doors.

Remember what I said about Significant Moments? This was mine, walking into that elevator in a black suit that probably cost more than my yearly salary, with a pink silk scarf at his throat and eyes bluer than a Minnesota winter behind tinted glasses. They looked at me and saw everything.

Elvis Presley. The King himself.

Time seemed to slow down, the way it does in dreams or car crashes. The man who stepped into that elevator made the air change – made everything change. You know how people talk about electricity crackling between two people? I'd always thought that was just romance novel nonsense. I was wrong.

He wasn't alone—a redheaded man built like a brick wall stood beside him, hand resting on what I was pretty sure was a gun. But it was Elvis who filled that elevator like smoke from a Tennessee cigarette, making everything else fade into background noise.

You know how sometimes you think you understand something, but then you realize you didn't understand it at all? That's how it was with Elvis's fame. I'd never been one of those screaming fans, never understood what all the fuss was about. But standing there in that elevator, watching him smile at me like he had all the secrets to the universe tucked behind those perfect teeth, I got it. Boy, did I get it.

"You've had a long day, honey.” His voice was pure Memphis nightclub, smooth as whiskey and twice as intoxicating. It seemed to bypass my ears entirely and go straight to parts of my anatomy that had no business responding to a stranger's voice that way.

I said yes and no and then yes again. My heart was doing double time, and I could feel my pulse in my fingertips. Every nerve ending seemed suddenly, acutely aware of his presence.

He smiled then, and it was like watching the sun come up. My knees actually wobbled. I finally understood why they put velvet ropes between Elvis and his fans. That man was a lethal weapon.

"The beds here are good," he said. Even the way he leaned against the elevator wall was poetry, all controlled power and casual grace.

I looked at the ceiling because I could not look at him. My stomach moved in ways it should not move. The elevator felt smaller somehow, the air between us alive with possibility.

"Pardon my manners," he said, and even that slight motion sent another wave of his cologne my way. "I'm Elvis, and this here's my pal Red. Who might you be?"

"Valerie," I managed, my voice barely more than a whisper. I was achingly conscious of how close he was, how the silk of his suit caught the light when he moved.

"Val-e-rie." He drew out each syllable like he was tasting them, turning my plain-Jane name into something rich and strange. The way his mouth shaped the sounds made my stomach flip. "A pretty name for a pretty little songbird."

The pet name caught me off guard until I remembered – the humming. He'd heard me humming while I waited for the elevator. Heat crept up my neck. His eyes hadn't left my face, and I could feel that gaze like a physical touch.

"I got ears like a well-tuned radar dish," he said, as if reading my mind. Each word seemed to hover in the air between us. "In town for a show?"

"An audition," I admitted, trying to ignore how my skin tingled every time he shifted position. "For Sinatra's show. I'm... I'm filling in for a friend."

Something flickered in his expression. "That right?" His gaze swept over me again, slower this time, more deliberate. It felt like being touched by velvet. "And what will you be singing for Ol' Blue Eyes?"

I gave him my prepared answer about standards and medleys, trying not to let on that I barely knew the material. His lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile but made my stomach drop like I'd missed a step going downstairs.

"A classic set list. You'll do great, honey."

The elevator slowed to a stop. Elvis moved past me toward the door, so close that the fabric of his suit jacket brushed my arm. That brief contact sent electricity skating across my skin. His cologne – something spicy and smoky – wrapped around me like an embrace. He paused in the doorway to look back at me and his eyes were dark and full of something I did not understand but wanted to.

"Knock ‘em dead, songbird."

Then he was gone, leaving nothing but that spicy scent and the memory of blue eyes that seemed to see right through me. I sagged against the elevator wall, my knees finally giving up the fight against gravity.

Now I understood. God help me, did I understand. All those screaming girls, all those tears and Elvis-induced hysteria – it made perfect sense. The real thing, in person, was like staring into the sun. No wonder women fainted.

I made it to my room on autopilot, barely registering the route. Inside, I face-planted onto the bed, my mind spinning like a 45 on a turntable. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him – the way he'd looked at me, the curve of his smile, the way he'd said my name like he was savoring it. The memory of his cologne lingered in my nose, and my arm still tingled where his jacket had brushed it.

I'd come to Vegas to audition for Sinatra. I'd come to maybe, finally, make something of myself. I hadn't come to get turned inside out by Elvis Presley in an elevator.

That night, I lay on the bed and thought about his eyes and his voice and the way he moved. I did not want to think about these things but they came anyway.

I knew then that Vegas would be different than I had planned. The elevator had changed everything. But that is how it is with elevators and beautiful men who wear rings and pink silk. They change things. And you can only ride up or down and see where they take you. Taglist: @whositmcwhatsit  @ellie-24  @arrolyn1114 @missmaywemeetagain  @be-my-ally  @vintageshanny  @prompted-wordsmith @precious-little-scoundrel @peskybedtime @lookingforrainbows @austinbutlersgirl67@lala1267 @thatbanditqueen @dontcrydaddy @lovingdilfs @elvispresleygf @plasticfantasticl0ver @ab4eva @presleysweetheart @chasingwildflowers @elvispresleywife @uh-all-shook-up @xxquinnxx @edgeofrealitys-blog@velvetprvsley @woundmetender @avengen @richardslady121 @presleyhearted @kendralavon7 @18lkpeters@lookingforrainbows @elvisalltheway101 @sissylittlefeather @eliseinmemphis@tacozebra051 @thetaoofzoe @peskybedtime @shakerattlescroll @crash-and-cure @ccab @i-r-i-n-a-a @devilsflowerr@dirtyelvisfant4sy @elvislittleone @foreverdolly @getyourpresleyfix@gayforelvis @headfullofpresley @h0unds-of-h3ll @hipshakingkingcreole @p0lksaladannie @doll-elvis @tacozebra051 @richardslady121 @jaqueline19997 @myradiaz@livelaughelvis @deke-rivers-1957 @jhoneybees @atleastpleasetelephone @eapep @elvispresleywife @that-hotdog @landlockedmermaid77 @sissylittlefeather @kawaiiwitchy

[deathnguts]

I know the hunger games AU is owned by Jegulus or whatever because of crimson rivers but I’m gonna different and make it about Bartylus because no one can stop me so here’s a detailed summary/play by play of major events of the AU please give it a chance it’s eaten my brain

No trigger warnings under the cut besides yknow mentions of murder but it’s not graphic, there’s only a cut because it’s long as shit

(not inspired by crimson rivers really at all because I never read it) ((also implied trans regulus at the end because eveyrone that isn’t Sirius or Barty doesn’t know regulus is a man because transphobia and closets and stuff and you can pry trans regulus out of my cold dead hands))

Ok so I imagine that the pure blooded families would be from career districts, like district one (luxury goods) I imagine. And Regulus, per the rules of the game, has never been allowed to participate because Sirius already competed and won when he was sixteen and regulus was eleven. This leads to regulus becoming disillusioned to the glory of the games early on since his beloved brother did come home with the honor but he was completely changed and traumatized and claimed he only came home with his life. Regulus sees the games for the horrific blood bath they are as he grows older due to taking on being his brother’s caretaker since no one else would and Sirius completely let himself go in the throes of depression, making regulus see what the games do to even their winners first hand.

Barty, on the other hand, does not see the games for what they are and he wants nothing more than to go and to win. He’s always believed in the ideology that winning the hunger games is the ultimate honor and playing them is the ultimate rush. I imagine, in the context of this universe, his father would probably be influential enough to be involved in the inner workings of the games. And unlike any other parent involved in the planning of the games, he doesn’t rig it so his son won’t be a participant, he rigs it so he will. Knowing this, every moment that isn’t spent with regulus at Sirius’ winners home or somewhere more comfortable like in town or something, Barty is training for when he’s selected for the games (since the careers have it rigged and all.)

Regulus tries to live in denial about the fact Barty will certainly go and may not come back or maybe come back like Sirius did up until the reaping day that changes everything. Him and Barty are sixteen, just like Sirius was, when they both hear his full name get called. Barty is beaming with pride as he’s pushed up the steps and regulus can barely contain a sob. (He only does because he knows it would be out of place for a career district civilian like himself to mourn such a thing, and he doesn’t want his family thinking he’s a rebel or something.)

Regulus rushes to see Barty before he’s taken away immediately. He’s crying in Barty’s arms and holding him like there’s no tomorrow because there truly might not be. Barty is less brash and loud with his pride obviously, the love of his life is crying in his arms, but he’s not swayed enough to truly be nervous. He simply holds regulus tight and tips his chin up, smiles and tells him he shouldn’t worry because if he’s not just coming home for honor, he’s coming home to marry regulus. They’ll be together forever when Barty gets back, it’ll all be ok. Regulus tries to believe that and gives Barty his favorite of his rings off his finger as Barty’s token from home. Barty puts it on the chain he always wears as a necklace since he knows he’ll be using his hands a lot in the arena.

Once Barty’s on the quick train ride to the capitol (since district one is so close) his smile fades to an even determination and he holds the ring in his clenched fist to his lips the whole way. The other careers will poke fun at it later, seeing as how there’s no way a simple silver ring on an even simpler chain can be weaponized, but what they think doesn’t matter because Barty’s going to kill them.

Barty optimizes on his wild card persona for his training, fashion statements, and marketing himself since he knows the crowd loves a winner who gets their hands dirty. And during his interview, he speaks of how he’s going home to the love of his life and shows off his ring to get real about his near proposal to get the crowd to love him even more. Everyone loves a romance. Regulus watches from home, alone since Sirius would rather die than watch anything to do with the games. He’s shaking from his fetal position on the ground and he can only pray Barty will be right in the end.

Before anyone really knows it, the games begin. Barty gets exactly what he wanted from the blood bath (sadistic violence and securing of the cornucopia. He even takes out his ‘partner’ from district one while the other careers are busy. Because he only has one partner from district one, and he’s not in the arena.) and regulus watches with his heart beating out of his chest.

The games go on swimmingly at first. Regulus is itching to help, to send any gift Barty may need at a moments notice, but Barty truly doesn’t need anything from him since he’s monopolized all the materials. He feel useless and he’s so terrified every second of the day he curses the editors of the broadcast every time his love isn’t on the screen because what’s happening when they pan to anyone else?! Barty’s doing mostly fine for himself since the lower districts are keeping to themselves and the other careers aren’t down to the wire enough to start back stabbing yet. Until they are.

Barty sees it as luck that he’s the youngest career here, halfway naive to the extent of the rigging the games have in favor of his idealization of them. The others single him out in their heads immediately due to his age and his whole ‘lover boy’ show at the interviews. They all agreed without having to discuss that he’s the first to go the second it’s convenient.

The next week or so is spent with the careers staking out the arena and then doing organized hunts for other tributes. They all go off well, the careers always win though not without any fighting back obviously. They lose the girl from four and the guy from three, girl from three gets injured but not enough to sit out and ugh Barty’s annoyed that he has to care about any of them. The guy from two is always sending him off on his own, claiming it’s because Barty’s a ‘crazy fucker’ and it’s like sending a rabid dog to some sheep and he’s certain Barty will come back panting like one with the blood of his win on him (secretly hoping he fails and doesn’t come back at all soon.) But he does, every single time. Barty thinks it’s because he was judged right, everyone else slowly gets more wary of him when they realize he’s not the easy pickings they imagined and he may actually be a problem down the road.

With only a few stragglers from lower districts left, the other careers decide to put him down before they run out of numbers. They go for him when they think he’s asleep, but he’s not an idiot and he knows they have it out for him and he wouldn’t dare to trust them enough to sleep around them. He actually hasn’t slept in days because of it. (Regulus hasn’t either, desperately afraid that he’ll miss even a single second of what’s happening to Barty.) He’s loopy, deranged from all the sadistic heavy lifting he’s been doing. He feels like a rabid dog now more than ever as he’s literally clawing and biting his former teammates when they manage to disarm him after he fatally wounds the girl from two and she fades away without him even looking twice. He takes out the injured girl from four, no was it two? No he just killed girl from two, it had to be… one? Yeah, one. She’s easy pickings and guy from… four, seems mad about it. It’s him and two guys, four and two, and they seem pissed. It’s funny, Barty can’t stop laughing. They really think they can beat him. Hilarious.

Regulus watches in horror and Sirius jolts from his sleep four rooms down when he hears his brother scream because in Barty’s insomnia and shock induced delusions, he gets snuck up on from a boy from five that’d been with them, one Barty hadn’t even noticed. He’s stabbed literally in the back, low and a few inches from his spine with the knife they’d taken away from him earlier.

Barty freezes, but not for long before he feels the knife twist and get pulled out. He practically howls at the pain when he whips around and kicks the guy down. God damn ghost, didn’t he kill him already? He takes his knife back and some other guys come in for the kill but they’re stupid because they’re getting close to Barty and he has his knife back. Barty doesn’t clearly remember what happened next, just that three bodies fell, he got cut again in his thigh and in both his arms, and then he passed out in the pool of blood he’d created.

Drones come ti pick up three bodies, Barty isn’t one of them. He wakes up to the movement around him and he feels like hell. He’s bleeding out, fuck why hadn’t he wrapped himself up before laying down? He did lay down, right? There’s an another drone that comes in and it’s medical supplies. A lot of them. Surely from a very concerned and very wealthy donor. He uses them graciously and waits out a day, maybe two, or was it three actually? for the hurt to subside enough to hunt again. It doesn’t.

He’s drifting in and out of consciousness and he’s not even fully functioning when he’s awake. He keeps getting drones with more medical supplies and he realizes with barely half a mind they’re coming from regulus. He can barely stay awake long enough to use them and keep himself alive with the little control he has and he realizes in this lethargic time that regulus was right. He feels awful, on so many levels. What he had to do, what he did for fun, what got him here, wasn’t worth it. He wants to go home. He hopes his mind will stop being foggy and loud when he gets home.

There someone standing by him, they don’t even have a weapon. They’re looking at him with fear in their eyes, but they’re stepping closer. They’re going to kill him. Barty spits, they’re going to try. His mind is loud and his blood is louder when he’s in another scuffle with whatever stupid fucking lower district tribute the old group missed while policing the arena. Theyre rolling on the ground for any hint of an upper hand. But the tribute’s weak, clearly malnourished and too scared to be calculated because Barty gets on top easy. He has his hands around their neck for just a moment before their long ass nails are digging into his fingers- no, they’re gloves, with razors at the tips. Fuck. He involuntarily pulls back with a hiss and they’re on top of him again. He’s not going out like this.

He kicks them on their back with his good leg and they gasp from the air knocking out of them on impact. He doesn’t have time to get their gloves off before they get their breath back, but he does have time to yank his necklace over his head and over theirs. They struggle and he flips them over to get his thighs on their upper arms to stop their death hands. Their razor fingers are digging into every inch of him they can and he barely feels the pain. Their movements slow and their eyes tear up as silver wrings out their last breath. Barty’s declared the winner. Was that really the last tribute?

It must have been, because he’s hauled out of the arena and into the capitol. Or at least, tried to, because he distantly remembers the terror and adrenaline in him not subsiding soon enough for him to trust the capital people come to retrieve him and he has to be put to sleep because he lunges at one of them. He wakes up and they’ve healed him completely with their capital tech and he wants to go home. There’s the after game interview he can’t hear over the buzzing in his ears and he tells them he wants to go home. He sees his father shortly after since he oversees things like the interviews and Barty tells him he wants to go home.

When he finally does, he could cry from just the sight of his regulus waiting for him right when the train doors open. And he does when he finally has him in his arms again. The two sob together on the ground and they hold each other like lifelines. It takes hours for them to calm down enough to even walk to the car to go home, and they do so pressed close with their hands intertwined. They huddle together in the car, and then they huddle together in bed the second their home. Regulus tells Barty he was right, Barty tells regulus he was right.

They’re both beyond shaken and traumatized from the games, Barty on behalf of eveyrthing he did and what was done to him and regulus because he had to watch. But they’re together now, and there’s never a moment in the future the public will ever them not. They’re shaken and attached at the hip at all times, agoraphobic and terrified of other people in case theyre a threat.

But the capital waits for none and they want a wedding. There was a buzz about it ever since Barty was in the top two for four days. And then when the crowd saw the psycho lover boy choking the last tribute in his way with his ‘wedding’ ring? Oh, now they can’t be stopped. The pair are rushed to the capital again and they cling to each other for dear life. Their wedding is completely planned already when they arrive, surely by game orchestrators and excited producers like their marriage is just an after party for the games. The overly eager crowd of make up artists and designers try to rush them apart for dressing and Barty nearly bites them, so they forgo the tradition of making the groom wait to see the bride in ‘her’ gown.

The crowd isn’t too upset because the display is a testaments to the capital’s newest favorite couples’ unconditional, inseparable love that defied every odd. And that’s the theme of the night. Hundreds of guests neither of the lovers know swarming them with praises and questions about how sad it was to watch their lover almost die and how sweet it was he didn’t and are they going to have children soon and wow double immunity for the baby when it does come with the Black and Crouch winners as uncle and father and-

It takes a near breaking point, luck, and a distraction from Sirius (who’s been itching to fuck with the crowd all night after being forced to be here) for the couple to get away for just a moment to breathe. It’s all so jarring, Barty was dying just two days ago and he got regulus back only a little after that and it’s all so much, too much and it’s so loud. But they’re married now, which he wanted; he’s alive, which he wanted; he’s home in regulus’ presence, which he desperately wanted.

Regulus looks beautiful in the sparkling white dress Barty’s games designer made for him, Barty apologizes that he has to be seen by so many people in it. Regulus says it was inevitable, Barty says it’s still not right. Regulus asks what is. Barty doesn’t answer for a moment. They sigh and hug each other close like they’d been doing non stop every chance they could for the past twenty eight hours. Barty murmurs that in everything that’s happened, in everything he’s done, the only thing that’s remained right since the start is regulus, his love for him more specifically. Regulus snorts a little and teases that he sounds like he’s going to propose. Barty doesnt respond for a moment. Then he’s pulling away from the embrace and regulus almost jumps but Barty doesn’t go far when he gets on one knee and pulls his token necklace from under his suit and over his head and smiles up at Regulus’s dumbfounded face.

Regulus Black, love of my life, my only light in the dark, would you do me the honor-

Yes.

He’s crying, they’re both crying. But it’s better. Everything’s better. Barty’s home, he made it home. They’ll be safe and sound at home.

[not-goldy]

Not your followers thinking Jimin doesn't need to be big star also. Are they even sane ??? EACH AND EVERY MEMBER IN BTS IS AMBITIOUS AF, ESPECIALLY JM. But unlike JK, JM is not airhead to keep on saying he want to be next big thing, want to be seen as this het fuckboy who only sings about sex to be seen as mature, want to be one and only kpop star to do so bla bla bla all while not lifting a pen to write songs, won't have streams and sales without a 938397328 versions and all that mediaplay from company. Or atleast the bare minimum hold a mic properly and talk/sing without fidgeting and embarrassing yourself. How you gonna dominate western market without even communication skills lmao.. those times when he used to stand in shade of RM is gone lol. Jk's big project DREAMERS debuted under bubbling 100 while JM gave that YG company their 1st hot 100 entry by a collab. So saying JK is this and that while we are not seeing results organically is dumb af. Golden maknae because he sing and dance some white man's songs which company already bought success for ? Oh there's 100 other artists who sings and dance way better than him. He can't hold 5 mins on stage if he's doing a dance battle with Jimin lol.

What company doing to members IS INJUSTICE AF.. especially Jimin who fucking proved he can also be the 'next big thing'. But they conveniently sweep him under rug so his shine won't affect their industry plant launch. Or why can't they support him too ???? Is it that difficult ? JK didn't do a shit and got everything. I BET HE WONT DEBUT NO.1 FOR SEVEN NOR GET ALL THOSE RECORDS IF IT WAS NOT THE PUSH FROM SCOOTS. BE FR. Go and check his BB points to see how payola impacted his chart. It would've been a -48 like 3D on second week too. While what we asked for Jimin was the deserved support in 2nd week for a song which fucking went no.1 with fans support and artist impact alone. It's NOT secretly wishing JK's treatment for JM, but asking what he fucking deserves. Literally any company will give the extra promos for his in 2nd week but not hybe who's on a mission to sell themselves to somehow establish JK in west 😬

And don't say JM will chose me over JK. Did I said I want JM to chose me ????? THIS IS HIS CAREER HE WORKED HARD FOR NOT A FUCKASS RELATIONSHIP. Even if you look at their relationship also, it's the same lol. JM keep on giving and giving him his everything while JK sit back and enjoy Jimin while not even bothering to post a simple bday wish or go and meet him even after him begging a 100 times.

YOU CANT CALL OTHERS JK ANTIS BECAUSE THEY SEE TRUTH AND SAY IT OUT LOUD. Ask him to play fairly like a man 1st, then we will see who's the real winner here ?

DAMN IF PSYCHO WAS A PERSON

IF HE'S WINNING DOES IT MATTER HOW HE'S WINNING???? DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW THINGS WORK IN THIS WORLD OR ARE YOU ONE OF THE DELULUS WHO THINK HARD WORK IS EVERYTHING?

You are crazy if you think money, connections, power, politics, privilege and luck play zero role in making a star. Please find other 2 yr olds and hug them, don't bring this shit to the adult table its embarrassing.

I'm embarrassed for you.

Scoot---- okay, MA'AM A PUSH IS A PUSH WHETHER IT'S FROM SCOOBY-DOO OR THE DEVIL

TAKE YOUR WEIRD MORAL COMPASS AND CHICKEN CHANGE ETHICS TO SOMEONE WHO ACTUALLY GIVES A FUCK

READ MY LIPS

Go weep somewhere else.

You gonna come on the internet and bitch complain bout how the entertainment industry is not fair WELL BOO HOO CRY ME A RIVER YOU LOSER.

And make sure you come with a costume next time so we know the circus from whence you came Missy Clowniot.

You give PJMs a bad name you ASS HAT

You sound like those whiny kpop losers who complain BTS has privilege and connections and power and their lame loser favs don't- as if power and connections are things you throw on people's laps.

If Hard work is all it takes BTS WOULD HAVE SEVERAL GRAMMYS YOU DUMBASS.

And the fact you out here farting yourself in the name of Park Jimin irks me so much. Here's the truth you want so bad, YOU SUCK. And you making Jimin out to be pathetic too damn.

Now I know it's not Park Jimin you out here acting like he's inferior and a victim and a loser who needs the bar to be lowered and for people to choose him love him play fair and nice before he can win. Child THE AUDACITY.

YOU DON'T THINK DO YOU??

I know he's not the one you fucking dragging through the mud indirectly with these brain dead waste of breathe rants.

PLEASE STOP JIMIN DON'T NEED A FAN LIKE YOU.

YOU ARE EMBARRASSING HIM.

The nerve and audacity for you to even compare him to- WELL ANY ONE I'M ABOUT TO PUT HANDS ON YOU FOR THAT.

I WILL SMACK THE SHIT OUT OF YOU FOR THIS FOR REAL.

It's the lack of intelligence and you not taking a hint and you not knowing when to stop- FUCK IT LET'S GET NASTY THEN.

THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN YOU AND I IS I CAN'T PUT ANY ONE ON A PEDESTAL ABOVE PARK JIMIN ENOUGH TO VICTIMIZE HIM THE WAY YOU DO.

HE'S IN A LEAGUE OF HIS OWN PLEASE LEAVE HIM ALONE HE IS NOT COMPETING WITH NO FUCKING ONE

HAVE SOME FUCKING CLASS AND TACT

OR GO OVER THERE WHERE THE OTHER PJMs OF YOUR CALIBRE ARE

IF JIMIN SEES THIS HE WILL THROW UP AND I'M GONNA WIPE HIS VOMIT WITH YOUR FACE YOU RAGGEDY ASS

NEVER EVER EVOOOOORRR COMPARE PARK BIG DADDY JIMIN TO ANY ONE LET ALONE HIS SWEET HEART

NO ONE IS ON HIS LEVEL AND NO ONE WILL EVER BE.

ALSO JIKOOK ARE A FUCKING POWER COUPLE THE FUCK!

IF JUNGKOOK'S POWER MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE

GO SIT OVER THERE

[pocketramblr]

Hello. If you still accepting asks, can I propose idea of 'AU where Yoichi and Himura clan are related' for 5 headcanons 🙏?

How fitting, Himura is written with the kanji for ice, but also to gather

1- Himura Ririka is from an old, traditional, and wealthy family. She knows her parents would die of shame if they saw her now, sitting in an alleyway waiting for the pregnancy test to finish. She doesn't care. She brings her bottle to her lips and while she knows the drink inside is colder than it probably should be, she doesn't think much of it. Perhaps it's the shade of the building or the light breeze. The test comes back positive, but there's no way for her to know there's twins. She packs her things and moves- sleeping on the ground can get cold, she's woken up with frost all over her blanket and even though she doesn't feel sick, she'd rather not die of exposure just because she's numb to it.

2- When the babies are born, they are hungry. She tries to nurse them but everything hurts and she is tired. She closes her eyes and doesn't open them again. The bigger baby keeps drinking, and when there's no more, keeps trying to until an ice meta power slides into him instead. When the river almost washes him and his brother away, they'll survive floating on an ice raft.

2- on the streets, the children barely manage to survive, but unlike everyone else they have an easier time in the winter- even Yoichi, who is normally sick. They suppose it's because the cold kills the things that sets off his allergies and because he has his brother's body warmth to cling to.

3- when the boys are ten, they fully realize what it means the there are other metas out there when they hear of the Ice Fortress - apparently, there's an extended family where nearly every child born in the last eight years has had an ice meta power, so the relatives have gathered together to protect them all. A few other metas hope to find them and join them too. AfO and Yoichi creep along behind.

4- the metas don't exactly get a warm welcome from the Himuras, though- they're welcome to join the family to work for them, but only if they can be of use. A few of the group are hired as guards. Most of the women and children are sent away. Yoichi turns to go too, but AfO grabs his hands, and they wait. The Himura spokesman tries to shoe them away once the others are gone, leaving to go back inside, but AfO sends a jet of ice forward, keeping it from closing. When the man turns, shocked, AfO just says that this is Himura Yoichi, his little brother, and they are Ririka's sons. The boys are hurried inside.

5- the boys are the eldest of the group of cousins, and pleased enough with the new food, though Yoichi asks with every group if they can help them more. His uncles chide him for being like a soft-hearted girl. Yoichi stares blankly at them for why that's an issue. He cries when sent away to do chores to learn manners though, so AfO responds by making the uncle's daughter cry... By cutting her hair and stealing her meta power. With this, the whole family is in uproar about an imposter child, a brood parasite, but their grandmother calls them back to order by reminding them she had paternity tests done to be sure, and that AfO's ice is from his mother, her daughter. Then she points out that Ririka must have been the first case of meta powers, if it developed sometime between her running away and the boys being born. Somewhere between 2 and 5 years before the glowing baby. They could use that. AfO is named Himura Magoichirou and is rewarded with double dessert for returning his cousin's power. He and Yoichi receive more tutoring as the family plans to use him, and in return, he starts planning on how to use them, growing from prince to king of their little clan, and soon enough, their not so little swatch of control.

[saibug1022]

My Heart Won't Start Anymore

Word Count: 3.3k

Tyril Starfury x Asterin Nightbloom (M!Elf!MC) x Mal Volari

A/N: For a lil bit of context, in Asterin's canon all three of them are dating, Tyril having kissed Mal right before they went to the Shadow Realm in Book 1. But when Asterin disappeared their relationship grew but under the stress and pressure of everything going on it also began to fracture. But it's not just about Mal and Tyril dw, that's not relevant till the end except for some references sprinkled throughout. Chapter title from You're Losing Me by Taylor Swift.

They were out of the Shadow Realm. They were all alive. They’d found allies in Flotilla and were on a ship on the way to Whitetower, getting closer and closer to being able to stop the Ash Empress and Valax once and for all.

Valax, who went out of her way to teach Asterin the shatter spell when she didn’t have to. Valax, who cared about her people and wanted to help them in any way she could. Valax, who got angry when anyone mistreated her people. Valax, who saved Asterin from the river. Valax, who shivered in Asterin’s arms. Valax, who smiled when he kissed her. 

Valax who betrayed them.

For the second time in as many years, Asterin opened up to someone, trying to help them, only to be betrayed for approval and power from some powerful Shadow user. You’d think he’d learn his lesson. Even after Aerin had been redeemed he’d disappeared. And Valax nearly got them killed. But no. 

How foolish he was. 

He should be happy they were alive and had a plan to stop the Ash Empire. But instead, the others gathered on the deck and Asterin hid himself away somewhere in the ship’s hold. Even he wasn’t sure where he’d ended up. All he knew was that he’d ended up sitting against the hull with his arms holding his legs to his chest and his forehead on his knees. He didn’t remember when he started crying but it must have been awhile as his sobs faded with exhaustion but the tears never seemed to stop.

It was almost over. He just had to keep going a little longer.

But could he keep going? Could he hold so much for even one more moment? He didn’t have anything left. He would give away every piece of him: his love, his kindness, his forgiveness, his strength, his health, his patience, his energy, everything. He didn’t regret it. But no one seemed to give anything back. Now he had nothing left.

There never seemed to be a moment to rest or even take a breath. They were always running or fighting. When they weren’t there was always something else to deal with. Mal’s self-destruction, Tyril’s crisis of faith, Nia’s war with herself, Imtura’s insecurities, Aerin’s atonement and disappearance, Valax’s redemption and betrayal, Cherta’s grandmother, the destruction of the Whimsywood, their fracturing group, Nia’s shadow secret, Tyril and Mal’s strained relationship. It seemed Asterin had spent more time comforting his friends after his disappearance than being comforted about his abduction. 

Every time he had those thoughts he’d shut them down. Guilt always followed them. He was helping people. How could he wish he wasn’t? Especially when those people were his friends? He’d put them first, of course he did. Then came the realm, and that involved always pushing forward. He himself was last. He didn’t have time for his feelings.

But he still couldn’t stop crying.

A door opened and Asterin froze, still crouched in the shadows. 

“Asterin? Are you in here?” Tyril called.

“If he snuck away and hid from everyone do you really think he’s just gonna answer?” Mal replied and Asterin winced. Of course, they were bickering again.

“I’m perfectly capable of finding him myself.”

“I care about him too, darling.”

“Please do not start with this again-”

“I’m in here, just please stop fighting,” Asterin finally spoke but he didn’t look up. His voice sounded awful, so small and tearful and rough. It made him regret having spoken at all. Mal muttered a curse and footsteps approached, followed by shuffling and the clanking of armor as they sat on either side of him, Mal on his right and Tyril on his left. Asterin quickly wiped the tears off his face before he sat up and offered them each a smile.

“Why were you looking for me?” Asterin asked. He thought he did a pretty good job of hiding his situation until Mal and Tyril exchanged a look and Tyril cast an orb of light. As soon as they could see their faces dropped. 

“Asterin, what is it?” Tyril asked with a sense of urgency in his voice. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Asterin waved him off and forced a chuckle.

“Were you crying the whole time you were gone?” Mal asked instead of not worrying about it. 

“Maybe?” Asterin tried. The guilt was starting to creep back in again. He couldn’t burden them with his own feelings, they were dealing with other things. Besides, would they even care? No, his feelings weren’t important. “But I’ll be fine. We should get some rest.”

“We’re not stupid, kit,” Mal rolled his eyes. He scooted closer so his shoulder was pressed against Asterin’s. “What’s wrong?”

“We have other things to worry about,” Asterin protested weakly but the tears were already starting to clog his throat again. How many times had he wished to hear those exact words? For just one person to check on him, just like how he was always checking on everybody else. Tyril offered his hand and Asterin took it without hesitation, clinging to it gratefully.

“At the moment, our only worries are for you,” Tyril replied gently. “Talk to us, Dinvalir.” 

It only took that one word before the tears came once more, unbidden. He’d thought he didn’t have the energy to break any more than he already had but now it was as if his sobs were chasing the unfamiliar lure of being cared for. His head fell onto Mal’s shoulder as his sobs racked his body one after the other. His lungs ached with the force of them but the feeling of finally being able to cry with Mal’s arms around his back and cradling his head, Tyril holding his hand and running his hand through Asterin’s hair, it just made it so he couldn’t stop no matter how much his body begged him to or his mind screamed about his selfishness.

“I, I’m sorry,” Asterin sobbed. “E-Everyone always looks to, to me to handle things. A-and I, I try. I try so hard. Everyone, everyone is hurting and I-I’m trying to help. But I can’t do it anymore. I’m so tired. I-I don’t have anything left. Nia has her, her shadow thing, and then the L-Light thing in Zaradun to, to help Tyril. And Mal, you’ve, you’ve been so upset because I was g-gone and you guys are fighting all the time a-and I don’t know what to do! And Aerin left a-and Valax betrayed us and I’m so scared a-all the time but I’m too tired to even be scared.”

Silence followed Asterin’s confession, but Mal’s grip on him tightened and Tyril hid his face in Asterin’s shoulder. 

“We look to you a lot as our leader,” Mal admitted. “Because without you we’d be at each other’s throats pretty much all the time. But it’s not your job to take care of all of us all the time either. You’re the one who told me it wasn’t on me to hold the entire group together. It’s the same for you.”

“You may be the strongest person I’ve ever met, but even you can’t hold this all on your own,” Tyril agreed. “If you take on everyone else’s burdens in addition to your own, you’re only going to crumple under the weight.”

Asterin just nodded against Mal’s shoulder as his sobs finally faded. He was so tired, in his bones and in his soul. He couldn’t find the strength to move or speak. It may not be enough in the long run but in the moment just being reassured and held like this by the men he loved so much was all he needed.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Mal wondered. He seemed hesitant, like he was afraid of the answer. Asterin was ready with a reply of ‘you all were busy’ or ‘it wasn’t important’, but something stopped them. Maybe it was how Tyril sat up and pleaded with his eyes for the truth, maybe it was how Mal was holding them like they’d disappear any moment. Either way, Asterin sighed.

“Because you never asked,” Asterin admitted. Mal’s head dropped as he tensed up beneath Asterin and Tyril flinched back as if struck.

“I never realized…” Tyril muttered. He squeezed Asterin’s hand. “I’m so sorry, Asterin. You’ve been through so much and we’ve been taking you for granted. You deserve far better.”

“It’s okay, you guys were busy with your own things,” Asterin assured him but Tyril shook his head.

“That is no excuse,” Tyril insisted. “After all, were you not doing exactly that for us and putting your problems aside to help us with ours? You deserved the same in return. No, you deserved better.”

“Elf boy’s right,” Mal sighed. “Gods, I feel like even more of an ass for that stupid comment about you sleeping through the year than I already did. And that’s saying something. I’m sorry, Asterin.”

“But-” Asterin tried to protest again but Tyril cut him off.

“If you wish to not accept our apologies then that is your right,” Tyril said. “But do not argue that you don’t deserve them because you do.”

“...okay,” Asterin gave him a shaky smile. “Then I do accept them. Because I love you both, even when you’re being dumb.”

“We deserved that,” Mal chuckled. “And we love you too.”

“With everything we have,” Tyril added.

“Are you feeling any better?” Mal wondered and Asterin actually paused to think about it.

“A little,” Asterin answered. “Tired though.”

“You need rest,” Tyril decided. Without warning he pulled Asterin from Mal’s embrace and scooped him up. 

“You have to start warning me before you do that,” Asterin laughed. 

“As you two would say, where’s the fun in that?” Tyril smiled.

“Great, look what we did Mal,” Asterin sighed, even as he wrapped his arms around Tyril’s neck.

“Hey if it gets you into bed to get a proper night’s sleep for once I’m not apologizing,” Mal snickered.

Tyril carried him down to the berth with Mal hurrying along behind them. It was empty for the moment, though Asterin swore he saw Nia peek her head in for a moment so he wasn’t sure if the desertion was due to celebrations or the others trying to give the three of them space but either way, Asterin appreciated the privacy. Tyril sat him on one of the beds and Asterin barely got to open his mouth before Tyril started methodically unbuckling and removing every piece of Asterin’s armor and each of his weapons while Mal undid his own and crawled into the bed. As soon as Asterin was just in his clothes Mal pulled him backward to hold him, with his head on Mal’s chest. 

After weeks of Mal and Tyril sleeping near each other but still not together, Asterin expected Tyril to take the bed above them or one of the adjacent ones, but once he’d dressed down Tyril actually crawled in behind them, spooning him from behind and wrapping his arm around Asterin’s waist. 

“Is this alright?” Tyril muttered into Asterin’s neck but Asterin didn’t answer, sensing the question wasn’t for him. He watched as Mal reached over and took the hand of the arm around Asterin’s waist. Asterin could feel Tyril smile and it made him smile too as he drifted off to sleep. 

When he awoke the bed was empty, and for a moment all he could think about was when he woke up to find Aerin gone. Some traitorous part of his heart started whispering that after admitting his weakness last night Tyril and Mal had disappeared with the rest of the party and left him behind. But then he heard low voices and paused, only opening his eyes.

Daylight was coming from under the door yet still the berth was empty but for the three of them. Mal and Tyril were sitting next to each other on the bed across the walkway, too focused on each other to notice Asterin awake yet. They weren’t sitting pressed together but it was still much closer than they had since Asterin came back.

“We really fucked up, Tyril,” Mal sighed and ran his hands through his hair. Asterin noticed how his hands nearly kept going only to stop mid-air. “We got so roped up in our own bull that we completely missed how much pain Asterin was in.”

“I know,” Tyril muttered. His hands were folded in front of him and his elbows propped on his knees. “I’ve been consumed by my emotions before but to not notice how deeply affected by everything he was…I’m ashamed of myself. How could we let this happen?”

“We did exactly what he’s been getting on us for since he got back,” Mal chuckled. “When was the last time we actually talked without being at each other’s throats?”

“Just today we were-”

“No, not with the rest of the party or anything,” Mal shook his head. “Actually talked.”

“It has been quite a while,” Tyril admitted. “At least not since our fight in Port Parnassus.”

Asterin wasn’t sure what happened in that fight or what it was about but whatever it was it was bad enough to make Mal wince at the memory. 

“I don’t blame him either,” Mal said. “We both love him, and he loves us both. But every time the three of us try to spend time together it ends in a fight.”

“What do we do?” Tyril wondered. 

His voice was almost pleading, as if he’d give anything to make things right. Asterin doubted Tyril just wanted to make things right with him. Despite the fights and jabs and the obvious distance between them, it was painfully obvious how much Tyril and Mal still loved each other. Tyril’s panic being barely concealed by his anger and the way he’d grabbed Mal by his shoulders when the rogue nearly brought the cavern ceiling down on them. Mal’s eyes lingering on Tyril when he and Asterin found Mal at that manor in Whitetower. They always seemed to be near each other without quite touching and they always looked each other over after a fight when the other wasn’t looking.

“We talk,” Mal shrugged. “About the things we normally yell at each other about.”

“We can start with what you told Asterin last night,” Tyril suggested. “When did he tell you you don’t need to hold our party together on your own?”

“Ironwatch,” Mal answered. “He confronted me about the thing in the caverns-”

“Which we will also be discussing, to be completely clear.”

“I figured,” Mal sighed. “Half of what you kept yelling at me for was being reckless. I told him the reason.”

“You did?” Tyril whispered. “Why not tell me?”

“Because you were yelling at me for being reckless before I ever got the chance,” Mal confessed. “And then I was just pissed at you and didn’t want to tell you.”

“I see,” Tyril sighed. “I understand. Will you tell me now?”

“What do you think I’m trying to do?” Mal snickered and Tyril chuckled a little. Mal took a deep breath before continuing. “The whole group was falling apart, someone had to keep it together in case Rin came back. So, I did, even as everyone seemed to be pulling away from it. Then there was building the orphanage. Then Asterin was back and we were all in danger again from an entire empire…I figured that when it came to who to put our hopes in to save the day I was last on the list. So I’d do whatever it took to keep you all safe. Especially you. If Asterin came back he would need you and no matter what’s happened with you and me I’d never be able to live with myself if I couldn’t protect you. I love you too damn much.”

“Mal,” Tyril breathed. He went to take Mal’s hand but paused, glancing at Mal in a silent ask for permission. Mal hesitated but nodded and when Tyril took his hand he visibly relaxed. “I have said many things to you I regret, and even more that I did not mean. But there will never be a place or time where I see you as weak, or see your skills as not valuable. Regardless, your skills do not matter to me. I love you because of who you are, not how powerful you are or how well you can fight. Why do you think I was so frustrated every time you risked your life carelessly as if it didn’t matter?”

“I thought you thought I couldn’t handle it and would get everyone killed,” Mal admitted. 

“You beautiful fool,” Tyril sighed and he reached up to cup the side of Mal’s face, staring at him with so much adoration that Asterin couldn’t believe they'd ever fought. “I know you can handle anything that happens to us. I never doubted that. But watching you come so close to death and brush me off whenever I’d show concern wounded me. It was as if you didn’t care for my fears at all.”

“Asterin is definitely gonna say ‘I told you so’ when he wakes up,” Mal laughed as he leaned into Tyril’s hand. He was right about that. “Imagine how many screaming matches we could’ve avoided if we’d just said that?”

“We were both worried for our Asterin,” Tyril said. “As well as incredibly frustrated we couldn’t find him no matter where and how we searched. It does make sense those emotions would come to the surface at the slightest push. Though perhaps in the future we should avoid the insults?”

“For once I agree with you elf boy,” Mal snickered and Tyril rolled his eyes fondly. It was the lightest Asterin had seen them since his abduction. “So are you gonna just sit there or are you gonna kiss me?”

“Can I?” Tyril’s eyes widened in both hope and surprise.

“I just told you to, didn’t I?”

Tyril didn’t wait another second, surging forward to kiss Mal so hard the rogue’s back hit the bedpost, making him groan. Mal wrapped his arms around Tyril’s shoulders and arched up into him, meeting the kiss with every part of him, body and soul. And Asterin had given up on pretending to be asleep, simply laying on the bed grinning.

“Mal was right,” Asterin chirped. “I told you so.”

The two sprang apart so fast that Tyril banged his head on the bed frame above him and Mal fell off the bed entirely. Asterin fell into a fit of laughter that burst from his chest like the sobs from the night before but instead of hurting they just filled him with warmth and something Asterin didn’t dare to call hope. His thoughts strayed from the spiral they so frequently found themselves in, instead wondering if maybe they really would all be okay. That even with everything going on they would soon be able to rest.

“That was cruel,” Mal pouted, which just renewed Asterin’s laughter. 

“I love you both so much,” Asterin cackled. 

Mal grinned and tackled Asterin onto the bed and Asterin shrieked, their laughter turning to giggles as Mal pressed kisses to every inch of Asterin’s face he could reach, not stopping until Tyril sat next to them and cupped their faces long enough to stop them so he could lean down to kiss them both.

“I love you both as well,” Tyril told them and they both looked at Mal expectantly. He rolled his eyes and Asterin smacked his shoulder, making him laugh once more.

“Yeah yeah, I love you both too,” Mal promised. “We still have a few hours till we reach Whitetower. I say we stay here until Gerhard starts threatening to break down the door.”

“I think we could all use time together,” Tyril agreed.

“Definitely. Get over here you two,” Asterin grinned.

Asterin opened his arms and both of the men he loved crawled into them. They talked and laughed and wrestled around and for once the world was not ending. For once they weren’t heroes or doomed adventurers or tragic loners, they were just three people who loved each other with everything they had.

For once, they were free.

[alicewritingstories]

Whumptober Prompt Fills Part 12: Storm

~Also on AO3~

No. 25: “You’re not delivering a perfect body to the grave.” | Storm | Buried Alive | “They’re not breathing!”

No. 27: “You drew stars around my scars; But now I’m bleeding.” | Matches | Scars | “Let me see”

Warnings: Explosion, forced to hurt a friend, injury, near-drowning, vomiting

Central character(s): Hyrule, Wild, Wind

The third battle in as many days was going badly. Normally Wild would avoid so many large-scale fights in such a short period of time, but there hadn't been that option this time; Hyrule's era was always a nightmare. The first time they'd been ambushed. The second they'd got wind of an attack on a small settlement and of course they had to intervene. That had pointed them towards this group of monsters blocking a major road.

It was all unavoidable for a group of heroes, but what was also unavoidable was that they were exhausted and short of resources. Wild was down to his last few weapons and his last decent shield as he held the end of a bridge against a moblin. He'd not seen Sky for a worrying length of time. He'd heard a cry of alarm and pain from somewhere nearby he thought might be Legend. But he had to focus on his own fight and continue to keep as much danger as possible away from Wind and Hyrule behind him.

Then he heard a crash of thunder from overhead and swore. The storm had been rumbling around for ages but now it had finally broken at the worst possible moment.

Many of the monsters were wearing metal armor. Most of his friends exclusively used metal weapons.

He had to do what he could.

He backflipped out of the way of a strike from the moblin and swapped his metal sword and shield for a heavy dragonbone club.

"Wind! 'Rule!" he yelled. "Get off the bridge! Now!"

The moblin was closing with him and he swung the club to catch it in the side, making it stumble on the uneven footing of the bridge. Another blow opened a laceration that - of course - spurted black blood.

He heard something behind him starting to fizz with electricity.

Hylia, please, may that not be Hyrule or Wind.

Then there was a flash and an explosion. Wild was blown flat, then the bridge under him gave way and suddenly he was falling. Instinctively, his hand flashed to the slate clipped to his belt and he pulled out his paraglider to catch his fall, looking around as rain started to sheet down around him. The river wasn't far below. The cliffs on either side were sheer.

He could see Wind's pale-blue tunic in the water.

His heart skipped a beat, but Wind was a strong swimmer and as he surfaced and trod water, letting himself be swept along in the strong current, Wild could see he was unhurt. He looked up, saw Wild floating down, and raised a hand in a wave before he started swimming with the current towards a low, rocky outcrop jutting out from the cliff. Wild aimed for it himself and landed neatly, dropping to his knees to help Wind up too.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

The sailor nodded, though he looked winded and was looking around frantically. "Did you see Hyrule come down?" he asked and coughed.

Wild's blood ran cold again. "He was still on the bridge?"

Wind nodded.

Wild stood up and looked around. Hyrule's dark-green and -brown clothes would be easy to miss against dirty water and Wind had been swept a significant distance from the site of the battle. Hyrule might have found somewhere else to get out of the water. He might have been swept further downstream.

If he had been knocked out, he might have sunk and drowned.

If that lightning bolt had directly hit him, he might have been dead before he even hit the water.

Wind had his telescope out and was scanning the banks, his breath coming fast. Wild followed his lead, bringing up the scope on his slate.

"I'll look upstream, you look downstream," he said.

"Right," said Wind.

Wild carefully scanned every inch of the riverbank and the water's surface, beginning on his right and moving slowly to the left. Several times he glimpsed bits of wreckage from the bridge or that had been swept from further up the river.

Then he spotted something pale against one of them. With an exclamation, he zoomed in just in time to see that it was an ear and part of a cheek poking out from a mop of brown-blond curls, just above the water's surface.

"Hyrule!" he cried. He clipped the slate back into place even as he took a flying dive into the water.

The chill and the force of the current were a shock and he blew out a quick breath as he surfaced and started swimming as fast as he could to where he had seen Hyrule. A fleeting thought crossed his mind that he should have changed into his zora armor, but though it would help him swim more quickly and easily it wasn't worth the time it would have taken to change.

He reached Hyrule and grabbed him, pulling him free from the wreckage without too much difficulty. It was sheer luck that the current hadn't carried him away. Then he started swimming back towards where he'd left Wind.

As he went, he was horribly aware that Hyrule was making no attempt to struggle or swim.

Wind was at the water's edge, reaching out a hand, and Wild grabbed it. Wind steadied him as he dragged Hyrule out of the water, scrambled out himself, and bent over the still form, eyes flicking over Hyrule's chest.

It was still.

Wild gasped, the air feeling alien in his lungs as he laid a hand on Hyrule's chest, confirming that there was no movement.

"He- He's not breathing!" he blurted. He didn't know what to do. Hyrule had drowned. If he'd ever known how to revive someone who had drowned, that knowledge had gone the way of everything else he'd lost in the waters of the Shrine of Resurrection. And now Hyrule was… he was…

"Wild, let me see!" snapped Wind, shoving him away with surprising strength. He became aware that Wind had been trying to get past him since he'd got out of the water.

Wind bent over Hyrule, tilting his head back and looking closely at his chest. Then he sealed his mouth over Hyrule's and blew air into him. Again. And again. Wild couldn't see any change. Wind blew into Hyrule's mouth five times, then he laid his clasped hands on Hyrule's chest and leaned down hard. Again and again and again.

"W-Wild," said Wind, breaking him out of his frozen horror. He scrambled back to Wind's side. Wind didn't look up. "See what I'm doing?" he said breathlessly.

"Yes?"

"You can do it better. Heavier than me. Hands where mine are, press hard. About this speed. Ready?"

Wild swallowed hard. "Ready."

"Now!" Wind jumped back. Wild took his place, laid his hands in the middle of Hyrule's sternum, and pressed down hard.

One of Hyrule's ribs audibly cracked. Wild cried out, jerking back, horrified as he realized he'd just broken one of his brother's bones with his bare hands.

"Keep going!" said Wind, his voice almost a scream. "Keep going until I tell you to stop!"

Wild gasped in another breath and kept going, letting out a yelp as he heard another crack.

"It's better than being dead," said Wind. "Now stop!"

Wild froze as Wind blew air into Hyrule's lungs again, then, at a word, he started compressing his chest again.

They repeated the sequence twice more, breaking three more ribs, then Hyrule coughed. Wild didn't think he'd ever heard such a wonderful sound, but when he paused Wind shouted at him again to keep going.

Hyrule coughed again. And again. When Wind blew into his mouth his chest rose and fell.

Then, suddenly, the coughing got stronger and turned to retching. Wild instinctively rolled Hyrule onto his side and held him there, trembling, as he threw up river water onto the rocky ground. Wind had slumped to sit propped up on his hands. Wild couldn't tell if he was crying or if there was only rainwater pouring down his face. He couldn't even tell that about himself.

Hyrule dry-heaved and let out a small, pained whimper.

"Hyrule?" asked Wild, his voice coming out shaky.

Hyrule's eyes flickered open and he whimpered again.

"Hy-Hyrule?" Wind's voice broke on a sob.

"Wha… Wha ha'n'd?" mumbled Hyrule.

As Wild was trying to find words, he heard a familiar voice shouting, "Wild! Wind!"

He looked up and saw Time standing at the top of the cliff, waving. Twilight ran up beside him.

Wild waved back and called, "Hyrule's here too! He's…" I broke five of his ribs. "He's hurt!"

Hyrule mumbled something and went into another coughing fit. Wild bit his lip, looking down at him and combing his fingers gently through his wet hair.

By the time Twilight had let Time down on the end of a rope, Hyrule had stopped coughing so much, though his breathing sounded wet and he was limp in exhaustion, still whimpering faintly with pain. Wild had tried to prop him up, but that made the coughing worse. Wind was glued to his side, eyes flicking from his face to his chest, flinching at every cough.

"What happened?" asked Time, hurrying over to kneel next to them and looking at their faces.

"He drowned," said Wind softly.

Time looked serious. "Hyrule?" He murmured, bending down to look at Hyrule's face. Hyrule looked up with another faint cough.

"OK, let's get you up to dry land," said Time. "Are you two OK here for now?"

Wild and Wind both nodded. Time reached out and patted them both on the shoulder.

"I'll be back soon," he said gently. "Well done, both of you." Then he gathered Hyrule up in his arms and shouted to Twilight to pull him up again.

As soon as he was on his way back up the cliff, Wind let out a whimper, curling in on himself.

"Wind -" Wild put an arm around him, trying to restrain his own panicked trembling as he remembered that image of Hyrule face-down in the water, unmoving.

Wild buried his face in Wild's chest with a muffled sob. Wild hugged him, his own throat tight.

"It… It's OK," he said. "He's going to be OK."

As he spoke, he could hear the cracking of Hyrule's ribs and see the horrible stillness of his chest.

"You saved him," he said. "Wind, you saved his life."

Wind shook his head. "You did. I wasn't strong enough to -"

"No. You saved him." Wild buried his face in the top of Wind's hair. "Thank you. I'm so glad you were here. I had no idea what to do." The words seemed to unleash his own tears. If Wild had been alone, Hyrule would have died in front of him.

Wind was still crying, but he was a little calmer and Wild kept holding him, letting the rain wash over them as they waited for Time to come back for them, trying not to think about what could have been.

[citruslullabies]

To that DEAR Anon,

Dear Anon, this is to inform you that just because you have no one in your life that pleases you sexually, doesn't meant that you must let out that depraved, sad and pathetic behavior out of you. If you need pleasing for your sexually starved self, how about you ACTUALLY get off the Internet and get in a HEALTHY relationship instead of harassing a person who writes FICTION? Or maybe read it somewhere else?

Are you that pussy/dick starved? Then get the hell off this wonderful person and their safe space and kindly do this:

FUCK OFF AND GO TO SOME OTHER SITE, YA DAMN CUNT.

The fact that this person is even SHARING their works is amazing. That they are comfortable doing so. They have boundaries, and you should ACCEPT that. So fuck you, fuck your deranged self, AND FUCK YOU for even typing that. Be fucking ashamed. Go cry a river bitch, cry until you choke in it's fucking saltiness and drown. Go fantasize your fantasies somewhere else, and don't EVER send a message again. Because if you do, I promise that the next message won't be as nice as this.

Sincerely,

Writer Anon.

P.s: Anon who tried to rush our dear person here, don't think you're off the hook too. I'm watching you.

Guys... Guys I think you got em-

But honestly, thank you. This made me chuckle at the pussy/dick starved part LMAO

But really hon, thank you. Thank all of you guys that are supporting me.

I haven't had this Tumblr account for very long and people already are attacking me like vultures

Gotta love Tumblr.

[m1d-45]

OHOHOHOHOHOH CRYO ANON…. MIDAS….. UR MINDS. i raise you this in exchange: creator having major trust issues even when (insert character) assures you that you’re safe, that nobody’s going to hurt you anymore.

you have nightmares almost every night, either of things that already happened in the imposter hunt or of everybody around you finally dropping the charade. you’re not sure which one’s worse. both have you waking up in a cold sweat to a dark room (you don’t scream anymore. you managed to stop sometime during the hunt.)

especially in the early days, you make several attempts at escaping with varying levels of success. it gets to the point where someone has to be assigned to stay with you because everybody’s so nervous about you running off like a frightened stray animal.

the comparison isn’t a far stretch, either. they learn early on that they can’t rush to approach you or else you’ll shy away, anemo swirling around you as if the wind itself is snarling and showing its fangs in your stead. they learn that you won’t eat in front of them, choosing to either wait until you’re alone or save your food in hidden spots.

you’re a bit more partial to the one who saved you. sort of. at the very least, they’re able to get a bit closer before you startle. it isn’t much, but considering everything, isn’t that more than they can even ask for?

(wehhhh….. oh imposter au my beloved) - teddy anon

YOU. <3

at the risk of sounding deranged, bitter and afraid and flighty reader after the hunt is such a cool concept. please, give me more of reader flinching when someone holds something out to them from the side, their hands going to their stomach to block the phantom blow. give me more of the followers being guilty yet firm because they need you to trust them, not for their sake but for yours.

and then add in elemental abilities???

once you get ahold of them, you near constantly have a shield up around you. anemo brings you anything you need, and you never reach past the shield around you. it switches, from one day to the next, depending on the nightmare. if you dreamed of bright flames and burning scars, your shield is made of geo. if you dreamed of jagged edges and sharp stone, it’s of anemo. and if, somehow, your nightmares made you fear everything, you lock yourself in you room, refusing food or drink.

(you open a window. a small fox brings you a bundle of berries. two birds carry a water bottle stolen from somewhere. you thank the animals with a smile.)

even after, you still test everything the followers give them. clothing is washed twice and inspected for thorns, a small leaf tucked into your thumb tests your drinks for poison, a special plant that you’d (unintentionally) made that reacts with every single toxin that’s been slipped into the rivers before, forming a bitter compound.

(you don’t drink bitter drinks for this exact reason. it still triggers a negative reaction, your body crying in rejection. any tea you have is made with double sugar to ensure any strain of sour is because of a drug, not because of the natural taste.)

still, you have your favored. the few that you never ran into, or those you like more and are willing to trust a bit easier. the few that are allowed to knock on your door, the few that can hold a semi-conversation without you fleeing. it’s… a marginal difference, but as you said: after what the world has done, what more can they ask for?

[chershire23]

My Special One

Chapter 13

Slanted is na'vi.

Songs to play when reading.

Towards the sun- Rihanna.

Devil you know- Tim Montana.

Despite Grace trying to stop me I run out mount Spur and fly off into the forest and what I see hurts me so much I almost fall off of Spur midair. Destruction and death falls in the wake of the demon machinery and weapons. Graces school has been shot up and there are arrows as well as bullet holes in the walls. I land and jump off of Spur and the world seems to slow down as I look around me while she takes back off into the air. The bodies of my Na'vi brethren are scattered around me as well as the bodies of humans. Fire surrounds me and I see animals on fire running for their lives trying to escape it. I run around and check the bodies trying to see who was killed and I notice something, they are all some of the younger warriors of the clan. When I get to the last body they are still alive and what scares me the most is it's Sylwanin, my sister. And she is heavily wounded.

Syl, Syl! Oh my Eywa Sylwanin! I shout as I reach her side. Riely, why are you here? She asks weakly. You need to leave now. She says with a painfully sounding cough that sends blood spewing from her mouth. No, no I can't leave you. I need to get you back to mother, we can still save you. I say, fear lacing my voice as I try to stop the bleeding of her wounds. This only results in her blood coating my hands and lower arms. My beautiful little sister, she says her bloody hand reaching up weakly to cup my face. I'm not gonna make it. Please take my bow and knife.....please. She weakly pleads as her other hand grabs the weapons bringing them close to me. No no you can't die you can't! I yell as she forces them into my hands. I love you so much. Please, take them. She says through another cough as her breath turns labored and she starts hyperventilating. She looks me in the eyes as her breathing all of a sudden stops, hands go limp in mine before letting go, falling to the ground. And just like that my oldest sister, the one I looked up to the most, dies in my arms.

Syl? Syl? Wake up please. Sylwanin wake up now please wake up! I scream as hysterics take over my mind. Hugging her head close to my chest i scream and cry in sadness, rage and guilt. Big sis, please come back, please great mother don't take her please! I cry as tears cloud my vision and flow down my face in a river of sadness. Oh shit. I hear a voice behind me say. I turn my head around and I see someone I would have never expected here. Someone who I saw as a second father, Miles Quaritch, a gun in his hands. Seeing him here amongst the death and destruction knowing his status rage fills me and I place Sylwanin's head down gently in the grass. Her blood stains my body as I grip her knife tightly in my hand marching towards him. Now kid listen to me. He begins before I cut him off. I trusted you, I TRUSTED YOU! I scream at him. TRAITER, MURDER! I scream slashing towards him with the knife. He jumps away avoiding my attack.

YOU REALLY THINK YOUR ONE OF THEM KID, HUH? He screams at me. Your human kid, and them....they are nothing but flea bitten blue savages. He says. I hiss at him as something inside of me snaps, but it's not my regular hiss. This, this came from somewhere else deep inside of me. Fine. he says as the mask he wears makes a hissing sound. Have it your way. With that the battle between the two of us begins. Our knives collide as we fight, trying to wound and/or kill the other. We move fast and quick sending blows left and right whether it be with our weapons or hand to hand. Quarich manages to slash my upper left shoulder and blood seeps out of my wound. I barely acknowledge it as I tackle Quaritch to the ground. Pinning him down to the forest floor, I raise the knife above my head. This is for my fallen sisters and brothers. This is for Sylwanin! I scream out as I go to plunge the blade into his chest. Before I could though two sharp pains burst through me as loud bands echo throughout the trees. I look down to see two bullet wounds in my lower abdomen. Getting up I clutch them tightly as I turn and see a unfamiliar soldier lower her gun, popping gum in her mouth.

Falling to the ground I crawl towards my sister's body. When I reach her I lay my head on her chest as tears once more fall from my eyes. I'm sorry sister, I, I couldn't avenge you. I'm so, so sorry. I hiccup as tears run from my eyes. It feels like my life is flashing before my eyes as I think about all the memories me and Sylwanin shared. Like the time where we caused a 'Anstìk stampede when we were younger. I remember how we sat on the branches to catch our breath after escaping before looking at each other and laughing. Or the time when we ganged up on Lyle during a wrestling match. Though one of my favorite memories of Sylwanin was the first time we flew together after she got her Ikran. It was eclipse and the only things we could hear that night was the wind and our laughter as we soared together. She performed all kinds of tricks with me and when we returned home we kept trying to shush the other not wanting to wake everyone up as we couldn't stop giggling.

Weak laughter escapes my mouth and I raise my bloodied hand towards Slywanins face using the last bit of strength left in me to close her eyes. There, now she's just sleeping. I tell myself. We are both sleeping, and this is just a nightmare. When I wake up we will be back home with our parents, no one is dead, and we will all live in peace. My vision starts to fade and the last thing I see before the darkness overcomes me is the blurry images of Ikrans landing and people running towards us.

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

The Reaper and the Death Angel Part 64

Thank you to everyone who has made it this far. Is everyone happy that they're getting an extra chapter?

Part 63

Series Masterlist

Contains: All the fluff, so much fluff, happiness, smut.

5.3 K words

Comment if you want to be tagged/removed or follow #the reaper and the death angel.

“Joy is what happens to us when we allow ourselves to recognise how good things really are.”- Marianne Williamson

"Audrey, honey, I can't understand screaming. You've been fed and changed and you've had a good nap so why are you yelling at me." You did your best to calm her down but it seemed futile.

"She wants Sam that's why she's crying. I grew her and she only wants her daddy." Ima sounded amused, not angry.

"Well he's at the store little one and he'll be back soon, can you stop screaming please?" You knew it wasn't going to work but you were getting desperate.

"She's three months old y/n, you can't reason with a baby."

"I can try Ima, nothing else will work." Audrey didn't want to listen to reason, she wanted her father.

"Are you ready for the party?" No one had told you or Jax anything and you were worried about what Billy and Opie had planned.

"I have no idea what's going to happen, how can I be ready for that?" You knew it was going to be fun, regardless of the fact that it was happening close to Charming and not some faraway destination like so many bachelor and bachelorette parties.

"It will be fun, Sam and I loved our joint one. I think you two will love what the guys planned." She sounded excited.

"Yeah, I can't wait. I just hope Gemma can handle the kids." It had gotten better between Gemma, Sam and Ima since Audrey's birth but things were still a little cold.

"Nero will be with her, Billy told me he set up stuff for them to do while we have fun. They're getting three days away to wherever we're going, they can't complain." You and Ima both knew that was wishful thinking, Gemma could always find something to complain about.

Ima smiled, "None of that matters, you and Jax are getting married in two weeks and we want all the focus on you."

"You're not going to give me anything?" Everyone had been very tight lipped about what Ope and Billy had planned, you couldn't get anything out of anyone.

"Nope, you'll just have to wait and see."

****

Everyone loaded in cars, splitting off into the bridal party and the groomsmen with Billy driving you, Ima, Abel and Audrey. You knew where you were going an hour in when you recognised the route to one of Anvil's safehouses, "I know where we're going so are you going to let me in on what's going on?"

"Nope, you'll just have to wait." Billy sounded so smug, he had clearly planned something big.

"Will there be cows mummy?" Abel's eyes hadn't left the farmland outside the window since everyone had left Charming.

"I'm not sure little man, the last time I was there, there were cows next door. Maybe Grandma can take you to the dairy up the road." It was a lovely area so at least Billy and Opie picked somewhere quiet.

"Only if Addie can come too." Abel adored her, he followed her around, doing his best to help, it was adorable.

"Of course Addie can go, I'm very grateful you're looking after her for us." Ima and Sam had embraced Abel's curiosity with open arms, he did keep Addie entertained.

You ruffled his hair, "we're almost there sweetie, I'm sure you'll love it."

****

By the grace of God and amazing traffic, everyone arrives at the same time. It was even nicer than you remember, the spring causing the garden to grow lush while the river trickled in the background. The forest at the edge of the sprawling farmhouse was a twitter with birds and there was a gentle breeze in the air. Abel rushed to his father the moment you unbuckled him from his seat.

Jax lifted him into his arms and walked over to you, pressing a kiss to your lips before looking around, "wow, this place is nice."

You smiled, "just wait until you see where we're going for our honeymoon, it leaves this place to shame."

The group followed Billy up the short driveway to the house and Billy stopped before the door, "Welcome to our farmhouse, don't let the looks deceive you, his place is a fortress. The happy couple get the main bedroom and there are four other couple rooms but other than that you are free to pick where you sleep as long as the y/n's side and Jax's side mix, most of you should be able to have your own room. We'll talk about our weekend once everyone's settled."

The door opened and the group headed in, taking in the exposed beams and natural light that was the inside of the huge house. You took Abel's hand and pointed to the left and smiled at Jax, "we're down this way my love."

Ima and Sam followed you with Audrey with Billy hot on your heels, "There are three rooms and a nursery in this wing of the house. Ope and I already set up the nursery. It's right between the main room and one of the bedrooms so looking after the little ones won't be a problem."

You smiled and turned to look at Billy, "wait, does that mean we'll be sharing a wall?"

Billy rolled his eyes, "yes, so please keep it down. I don't need to know about that part of your life."

You chuckled, "I make no promises, you might need earplugs."

Abel paused, "why mummy?"

You looked at Jax, who shook his head, "Uncle Billy doesn't want to hear as jumping on the bed while he trying to sleep is all." Jax sounded as smug as ever.

Abel looked deep in thought, "Ok daddy."

Jax sighed, life was good.

****

Juice sighed and flopped onto one of the couches, "This place is huge, what do you use it for?" Once everyone had settled in, the group moved to the main room on the ground floor so Billy and Ope could explain the events for the weekend, Gemma and Nero went for a walk with Abel and the baby so it was just the main wedding party. 

Billy smiled, "Forest training and target protection. If a team can protect a property this big, they can do anything." 

He and Ope shared a look then Opie spoke, "Bill and I buried various parts to something somewhere. You all have the next twenty four hours to find them. It's going to be the bridal party vs the groomsmen, the winners are the ones that find the most parts, the losing team cleans up after the wedding." 

You turned to Jax with a smile, "my team is going to kick your team's ass, your going down peach butt." 

Jax smirked, "not a chance darlin." 

The groups had already slipped off, ready to run off but Billy stopped them, "There are hints hidden everywhere, to get a clue to the location of the hint, you're going to have to answer a trivia question. First question, why does the bride stand on the left side? Option one, so the groom can fight off other men with his sword arm or option two the right side represents strength and godliness while the left is weakness." 

Juice's hand shot up and Billy smiled, "it's one. I learned it in one of my computers game." 

Billy pulled a slip of paper from his shirt and handed it to Juice, "your hint." 

Juice read it and his face fell, "I have no idea what this means?" 

Billy's smile grew, "then you gotta hand it off to the bridal party." 

Angela flapped her hand and Juice passed it to her, before smiling and whispering in your ear. You stepped closer to Jax and pressed a kiss to his cheek, "you are going to lose so hard Teller." 

Without another word, your group raced off, Ope and Billy following and Jax stood there slacked jawed, "well, follow them." 

You landed in the flower meadow while everyone waited for the next hint. It was Opie's turn to speak, "The bachelor party oriented where? Ancient Rome, Medieval England or Sparta."

Your hand shot up, "It's Sparta." You thought for a minute, "the hint is Sparta?" 

Opie nodded, "yep."

An idea came to you, "The Hyacinths, check them." Your group only had a few seconds head start before everyone started looking. Upon getting level with the flowers, you noticed that they here in carefully hidden pots instead of in the ground and when you lifted the pot, there was a small piece of paper underneath it, "keep looking."

Kozik let out a shout then paused and turned to Billy and Ope, "which way is the river?"

Billy smiled, "behind you." 

The groomsmen rush off, Jax kissing you before he left but you stayed still, "keep looking, there are more pots."

Frank hopped up, "half of us should go, that way we don't get behind." You nodded and the bridal party split off. 

In the distance, Happy paused, "wait, some of us should go back. There might be more clues."

Jax stopped and looked towards the field but it was too late, he could see everyone move to one flower while half your group raced past him. Jax squinted his eyes and saw you pull something from the ground before you jumped up and ran towards him. He still maintained his head start as everyone reached the river but that did stop you from gloating, "we already have one piece and another clue. You're going to lose."

"You haven't won yet darlin." 

****

The river netted two clues for your side and a handful of wooden parts wrapped in soft black velvet for both sides, but before the group could run off back to the house to look for the next part, Billy and Ope called lunch.

"Abel and Addie are back at the house and we've made sandwiches for everyone. We expect you to get along for the next hour or you'll all be in trouble."

"Shut up lieutenant Russo." You didn't mean for it to come out but it did.

Billy's eyes went wide, "Hey, I'm on your side."

"Well it doesn't feel like it Bill." Frank was covered in mud from when he and Hap figured out one of the clues and went digging by the river rocks and he wasn't having it.

Ope laughed and rubbed his face, "come one everyone, I'm sure we can get along for any hour."

You sighed and walked over to Jax, looping your arm around his while smiled down at you as you headed back to the house, "are you having fun darlin?"

You nodded, "I am, a total blast. Are you?"

"Yep, you're still going to lose." He sounded so smug.

The walk back to the house was a leisurely mix of banter and laughter and Jax was wearing a smile from ear to ear, "everyone's getting along great."

That much was true, everyone was so happy, "well marriage was originally meant to join tribal groups so I guess that's what we're doing."

"Yeah, although I'm worried you were right about Juice and he's going to be stolen from us." Jax pointed over to where Derek, Frank, Travis and Juice were walking together, deep in conversation.

"I keep telling you, it's only a matter of time before he jumps ships and comes to hang with us, we are cooler after all."

Jax looped his arm over your shoulder and pulled you close, "Your friends are cooler than mine, those are fighting words darlin."

"Well, you do wear matching vests so that's pretty cool." You knew that would get a rise out of him.

"Oh, you're asking for it now."

You did your best to suppose your smile as you replied, "begging actually."

Your conversation stopped in its track as Abel saw you in the window and came running out before jumping into Jax's arms, "did you have a good morning little man?"

"Yes daddy, we went to see the cows and Grandma got us ice cream." He still had chocolate on his face.

"Is that right? Do you have room for lunch?" Your chest filled with warmth, Jax was a good father.

"Yes daddy." Jax put Abel down as you walked inside and you could hear Addie's telltale babble that she gave every time Sam held her.

"I'll go get us some food before it's all snatched up." Jax shot you a smile and you headed to the kitchen, walking by Sam as he fed his little girl.

"I missed her." He looked so happy with Audrey in his arms.

You shook your head, "You've only been away from her for a few hours."

Sam sighed, "you know Ima and I knew you and Jax knew she was a girl."

Your eyes went wide, "what, no I didn't" That was a bad lie.

"We're not mad, I'm amazed you and Jax kept it a secret." Sam's eyes hadn't left Addie's face the whole time.

"It was the hardest thing I've ever done." You reached out and grabbed her little hand and she let out a happy little shout, "She is such a happy baby."

"I know. Is it bad that I want to bite her little legs, they look like bread buns." You laughed and Addie looked for the sound, her curious brain trying to take everything in.

"No, I still want to bite Abel sometimes. It's totally normal." Audrey pulled back from the bottle and wiggled in Sam's arms.

Sam took her tiny hand and she wrapped it around his finger, "I gotta go feed myself, you wanna hold her?"

Before you could say yes, Juice appeared from nowhere and reached out, "I'll take her, it's my turn and I've already had lunch."

Sam sighed and handed Audrey before walking to the bench and yanking some sandwiches off the plate, "I look forward to kicking your ass."

You shook your head, "nope, I'll be kicking yours little brother."

You got yourself and Jax some food then went back to the couch where Jax was sitting with others, "thank you darlin."

"You know, since the next clues are in the house, I don't think you have a chance." To be fair, the last clue meant it could be anywhere and it was just going to be the luck of the person who found it.

Jax smirked, "You wanna bet?"

"Yeah, I do." You leaned in close and pressed your lips to his cheek, "but remember Jackson, I win no matter what."

****

You were deep in conversation when Billy announced that lunch was over and the game was back on. You split off from Jax with a kiss and headed to the roots seller, the pickle jar on the last clue hinting that the next thing was either there or in the kitchen.

It seems Happy had the same idea because he was hot on your heels, "Shouldn't you be looking in the laundry? You're the one that pulled the clue with the basket on it?"

He huffed, "I sent Kozik, plus, we all know I'm not going to leave a mess of your supplies."

You snorted, "like that's going to matter when I kick your butt."

You raced down the stairs and all but kicked open the door before going over to the shelves to start looking. It was clear there was nothing in the jars but the dust had been disturbed. Almost at the same time, you and Happy bent over to look at the bottom of the shelves and you smiled as you saw the symbols drawn on the wood in chalk.

"What do they mean?" Happy either didn't know or was a good liar.

"That's for me to know and you to be sad about." You gave him a friendly shove to get closer to the shelf he was standing in front of as the pieces fell into place, "you wanna hint?"

He stood there stoically, "what's in it for you?

"You get me the piece that your side has" Happy shook his head, "fine suit yourself."

You walked over to the old bread box in the corner of the room, brushed off the dust and opened it before reaching in and pulling out another wooden piece, "We've only got to find four more pieces, then my side wins. But just to make it a fair fight, there might be another clue by the window."

You ran up the stairs while Happy rushed over to the window, finding a small hay bale drawn in the dust. Just as you reached the stairs, you turned to gloat one last time, "You better pick it up Lowman, have you ever seen how much mess wedding guests make?"

Happy chuckled and yelled up the stairs, "we're all delighted for you y/n, you deserve the good things."

You shook your head, "you can't sweet talk me." Without another word, you shut the door behind you and raced off to the next run down the next clue.

****

It had all come down to this, there was only one piece left. In the last few hours, not only had a few more pieces been found but also some strange black bags hidden.

The sun had just started to set as you all gathered in the forest with shovels in hand. Jax's side was up by one but as Opie had informed everyone, the last piece was the largest so it was worth more.

You and Ima had just finished digging around one tree stump when a shout from Derek brought you over, he had found it.

"AH HA, suck it Teller, we win." Something about the way everyone was looking at you made you suspicious.

Jax pecked your cheek with a smile, "That you did darlin."

The group gathered around and sat down and handed you and Jax their finds while Billy smiled at both of you, "now you just have to put it together." With hugs and thank yous exchanged, you and Jax took your sweet time to walk back to the house before heading to the bedroom to put whatever it was together.

"Do you think everyone was in on it?" Jax must have picked up on something.

You shook your head, "no, but I think everyone knows what it is." You took his hand and sat crossed legged on the floor before unwrapping everything. Now that you could have a good look, you could see the detail that went into everything. Someone must have told someone about the flowers featured in the wedding because they were caved all over the deep brown wood in amazing detail.

Jax opened the small bags with a strange look on his face as he pulled something out of each on, a set of instructions, tiny screws, a screwdriver, a paintbrush and a small bottle of glue. He handed you the instructions and you read over them with a growing smile, "It's a keepsake box."

Jax could tell how much love are care went into each piece and as you and Jax put it together, you realised that every person in the wedding party was responsible for something about it. Whether it was Happy's welding style on the hinges, Lyla's brush strokes on the wood stain or Angela's artistic talents in the engravings, everyone had done something.

It didn't take long to put together but it was something once it was finished. There were many drawers and doors of different sizes, little hidden compartments and one last door that sealed the whole thing. Altogether, it was utterly beautiful, "wow, this is amazing."

Jax smiled, "yeah, it is." He leaned across and pressed his lips to yours softly, pouring every ounce of love into the kiss.

You placed your hand on his chest and Jax pulled away, "everything ok darlin?"

You nodded and took the box in your arms, placed it somewhere safe and then returned to the floor and sat in his lap, "yep, I just don't want anything to get damaged."

Jax smiled against your lips then wrapped his hand around your thigh and pulled you closer, "I guess I have to pay up since I lost out bet."

"You do. What do you have in mind?" You could feel his cock hardening against you.

"I have a few things in…."

KNOCK KNOCK

"HEY YOU BETTER BE READY TO HELP WITH DINNER, IF YOU DON'T HELP YOU DON'T EAT." Sam's footsteps were gone before you could respond.

Jax sighed and dropped his forehead to yours, "Come on darlin, we'll pick this up later."

****

"I cannot believe you made me help at my own party, it's very rude." You didn't really help that much, many hands made light work and dinner was on the table in a flash.

"You kinda made the bed darlin, it's not like we didn't have fun." Jax was as smug as ever.

"Mummy, can we Addie have tatoes?" Abel was always asking what he could share with Addie, it was enough to melt anyone's heart.

"No sweetie, she can't because she's too little but thank you for asking." You turned to Kip, "speaking of, can you pass them here please?" Kips passed you the bowl and you gave yourself a spoon before Jax took it from you and gave himself a heaping pile.

"We should do this every year." Jax almost said it to himself, "not like this and it doesn't have to be at the same time but we should all go away together for a few days."

You shook your head, "wow Teller, I never thought you'd be one to suggest that. What's next, you're going to propose we go skiing?"

Jax huffed, "none of us want to end up on a mountain with a bunch of rich people. I mean, I'm sure we can all swing a weekend away."

Billy smiled, "I think that's a great idea. Maybe next year we can head to The Berkshires. Anvil has plenty of houses there and there's a lot for us to do."

"That would be cool, we can all go hiking." You blinked, even Happy was in on it.

You sighed, "alright, it's settled. We'll all go away together once a year. When did we all get so domesticated?"

Jax laughed, a hearty belly laugh and everyone followed, and each time it died down, someone started it up again. It took Addie's cries for attention for everyone to stop and Sam sighed as he lifted her from her chair and brought her into his arms, "sorry little one."

Bobby sighed and slapped his legs like a grandpa, "I'll go get the dessert, that way we can all be in bed by nine like the adults we are."

You shook your head, "I'm not going to respond to that."

Sam screwed up his face, "Eww, we don't need to know that."

You huffed and held up your hands, "Hey, I didn't say anything."

Sam sighed, "sure y/n."

Thankfully, Bobby walked in with his arms loaded and placed the trays on the table, "well, tuck in."

****

"Goodnight sweetie, if Addie cries, someone will come a help her so you don't need to worry." Abel was sitting on the bed in Jax's lap while you read him a story with Addie fast asleep in her crib.

"Ok mummy, but I can still help?" Jax chuckled, you both knew Abel slept like a log, he wouldn't wake up if she cried.

"Sure little man. Mummy and I are going to go to bed now but we're just across the hall ok?"

Abel nodded, "ok daddy. I love you."

Jax kissed his templed and tucked him in as you reached over to turn off the light, "goodnight sweetie, daddy and I love you very much."

Abel gave a yawn and settled in, "goodnight mummy, I love you too."

The moment you were back in your room, Jax was slamming you against the door with his lips on yours, "pick up where we left off?"

You nodded, "yes, please. I think I was collecting my winnings."

Jax's fingers were already buttoning your top, "yeah you were so what can I do for you darlin?"

You pulled him to a kiss and nipped his lower lip, "You can do all the work while I lay there and enjoy myself."

Jax smiled against your skin, "I'm all about the service beautiful."

Jax removed your clothes piece by piece with tenderness, pressing his lips to every new bit of skin he had revealed. As he pulled your jeans down, he dropped to his knees so he could kiss your bare skin then wrapped his hand around the edges on your panties and pulled then slowly. Once you were naked, you pulled him up, held up a finger for him to stay in place, and walked backwards towards the bed before getting comfortable, "strip." Jax smirked and rushed to remove his clothes, "slowly my love."

He huffed, "you're lucky I love you." His pace slowed and his ego only grew as he watched you drink him in, "you like what you see?"

You nodded, "I do, please keep going." Jax's muscles rippled as he took off his pants and you shot him a smile as the boxers followed.

"Can I come and fuck you now?" You were too busy admiring his hard dick to quip.

Jax sighed and took a step towards you with determination, then the door swung open, "y/n, do you want me to…" Billy locked eyes with Jax, then with you, utterly unfazed by the nudity, before looking Jax up and down, then, he turned to you, gave you a solid nod and left.

"What was that?" Jax wasn't the least bit embarrassed.

You were doing your best to hold back the laughter, "I don't know but I think he approves and by the morning everyone is going to know what you've got going on."

Jax closed the distance to the bed and climbed on top of you, "does that mean I get the final seal of approval?"

You nodded, "Oh yeah, but you are never going to live this down, they're going to be talking about your dick until we're old and grey."

Jax shook his head, "I bet you're loving this?"

You leaned in and nipped his neck, "yep, but you better get up and lock the door, just in case someone else wants to rub it in."

Jax's head fell on your chest as he started to laugh before he popped up and flicked the lock, "happy darlin?"

You smiled and stretched your hands out, "yes, now I think you have a debt to pay."

Jax swaggered back over and climbed on top of you again, "I do, so just lie there an be good and I'll make sure you enjoy yourself." Jax took you in a kiss and you threw your leg over his hips as one hand slid down your body while the other held your face. He pulled back from the kiss and tilted his head, "I think everyone is back in their rooms fasts asleep so unless you want them to get an earful too, I'd stay quiet."

You kissed him in response as he pulled open your leg to her access to your centre, Jax moaning when he found you wet. The kiss didn't break as he circled your clit slowly and he nipped your lips when you let out a whimper, "don't make any noise darlin, those sounds are mine."

You nodded aggressively, hoping it would encourage him to continue and Jax fell for it because moving his fingers from your clit to your entrance and swallowing your moan as he slid them inside you. His thumb found your clit as he deepened the kiss and started to rock his hand against you, his fingertips barely brushing your G-spot with each shift of his hand.

You went to match his slow pace but Jax stopped you, "hey, you wanted me to do all the work darlin, there's no need for you to do anything but relax." You sighed and did as he asked, then Jax smiled and kissed you hard. His pace was measured, not too slow, not too fast but just enough to be maddening. He watched your face carefully and picked up speed each time he saw you adjust to the sensations, "remember, don't make a sound."

"I won't, I promise." Jax took you into another kiss, this one much softer and then changed the position of his hand to touch you in a way he knew would make you see stars, after that it wasn't long before you were biting your lip to keep in the noise as you hurdled towards the edge. Jax pulled Jax as close you could, burying your face in his neck to stifle your whimper as you clenched around his fingers.

Jax worked you through the orgasm then removed his fingers and sucked them into his mouth with a moan, "you taste like heaven, sadly I think if I wanted more of that, you'd make too much noise so I'm just going to give you my dick instead, that way you can bite down and keep yourself quiet." You went to say something and Jax shook his head, "what, you wanted me to do all the work."

You sighed and pulled him into a kiss before pulling back just far enough to speak as you threw your legs over his waist, "well then get it to." Jax settled between your legs then grabbed his cock and ran it up and down your slit, "please."

"That's all I needed to hear." He slid home with a soft groan and rocked his hips slowly. He held himself up on his elbow and kissed across your face before landing on your lips, the kiss deepening as his hips picked up speed. Despite your best efforts, you couldn't stop the sound from leaving your chest and it only seemed to spur Jax on. But you weren't alone, Jax was grunting in your ear like an animal as he pushed you closer to your peak.

Your fingers dug more and more into his skin as your legs started to twitch and Jax's lips moved from your lips to your neck to suck bruises into your skin, "come on darlin, I can tell how close you are." Jax's tone was tight, signalling he was just as close as you and he shifted his weight to take your hand in his as he placed it on your clit, "touch yourself for me."

You were powerless to deny him and with a few circles of your fingers, you were aching off the bed while your sunk your teeth into his shoulder to stifle the sound. Whether it was the sting from the bite or the squeezing of your centre was irrelevant as Jax pulsed inside you, his hips still rocking gently as your orgasm slowed.

Jax's head dropped to your chest and kissed your skin before rolling off you and taking you with him, "so is my debt paid?"

You sighed, "oh yes, most definitely." Jax pushed himself up and pecked your cheek firmly before getting up and getting a rag to clean you off. Once that was done, he returned to the bathroom to get you both some water then climbed into bed with a smile.

"Is anything planned for tomorrow?" He sounded satisfied.

You shook your head, "no, just an easy day."

"Well we could always…"

"YOU TWO BETTER BE DONE AND NOT BETWEEN ROUNDS, I GOTTA FUCKING SLEEP."

You slapped your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from laughing as Billy's voice came through the walls, "SORRY RUSSO."

Jax shook his head with a smile, "I guess you couldn't stay quiet enough."

You slapped his shoulder with the back of your hand then settled on his chest, "I'm not going to respond to that," you pressed your lips to his Abel tattoo, "goodnight beloved."

Jax's hand came up to stroke your hair and his chest rumbled with a content groan, "goodnight darlin."

Part 65

@camelia35 @withmyteeth @watercolorskyy

[wellntruly]

M*A*S*H - Season 6 misc. notes

Oh my god, this round-up is so unwieldy. Long. Just, had a lot comments. And if you were waiting for my whole manifesto on the ‘Comrades In Arms’ question, have I got that herein!!!!!

— — —

You guys gotta stop re-orchestrating the song, I’m too sensitive to this! This is how far we’ve gotten, listen: these worn-in, mellow guitars & horns of S1, this jangly extended situation

Camera’s getting in closer this season I notice. Do you know what else I noticed: HY AVERBACK. Haven’t seen that name since the change-up, since he was directing seemingly every other episode, since [quiet swallow] Trapper and Henry. Since this show was significantly nuttier and also I miss it like crazy. Hy…hi.

Klinger: “What am I, the only medic in the shop!” BJ: “You’re loved, you fool.” Klinger: “Command me, oh tall one with the Presbyterian features.” It’s like I was just saying—!

Hawkeye: “Where you from, Charlie?” Major Winchester: “Charles.” Me: “So, like the river, then?” Potter, a moment later: “Impressive, Doctor. Harvard Med, Massachusetts General…” Me: “Oh my god, like the river.”

BJ has never gone as Berkeley than when now being confronted with Beacon Hill, and fuck that is Correct. The natural challenger. Maine and the Midwest can contribute but California must put up our champion. Back Bay vs. The Bay: Fight !

Really good papers toss Mike Farrell, that’s not easy

“Creative Consultant”! Alda :)

Margaret & The Boys ‘Silly Mood’ but now it’s Babe! Babe Tell Us What’s Wrong! [Keke Palmer in Nope voice] You Look Pretty :)

Klinger’s sling-armed lawyer…this season is already pleasing me so much

Absolutely obsessed with the moribund injured Dr. Berman, whose entire affect is the part where Cameron wakes up and fixes him with a weird stare and drones “Ferris Bueller you’re my hero.”

Charles: “Colonel I, I think I should tell you that my father knows Harry Truman.” Sure, and my own rich Massachusetts friend’s dad knows Mitt Romney, this is just how this goes (Haha I’m DYING.)

Ahh, nice way to even it out. He’s a very skilled surgeon, and smug about it, but they have a skill-set that he doesn’t: move fast, not pretty, save all the lives you can, don’t fall until you reach your cot.

Ahh and yeah he’s so much smarter than Frank! God this is gonna be great. Not that he can’t be tricked, but he can also trick you. Hey let’s make this interesting, the sixth season says. Let's.

“What’s up, you look down?” is such a smooth joke that the laugh track editors didn’t even notice it

Radar: “Um, well I’m very concerned about something that concerns my life here.” Hawkeye: “What’s the trouble, Andy?” Radar: “Well, I don’t think that this place is turning out to be that great an experience for me. I mean I work under terrible pressures and there’s lots of death and destruction and stuff, but other than that I don’t think I’m getting much out of it.” Heeheehee, heeheehee, okay you know what: this is exactly the energy this show has been missing. I needed this deadpan absurdist commentary.

Radar: “I’m the only one that’s gonna leave this place younger than I was when I came.” ASLDKJFL THIS IS WHAT I HAVE BEEN SAYING. HE’S GETTING YOUNGER. Oh lord they're saying it!

They play this reveal well I gasped!

Hawkeye, drunk & maudlin at Rosie’s: “You know that my hands were shaking? I had butterflies. I’ve held people’s hearts in my hand and with him I was nervous. Am I boring you?” BJ, tired: “I’ve heard this four times already, I know how it ends.” Hawkeye: “How does it end, I wasn’t here for the early show.” BJ: “You start crying and sing ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’—can we go home?” [hard cut to BJ half-carrying Hawkeye to bed while he warbles: “If funny little bluebirds fly��!”] GOD THIS SEASON IS SO GOOD

Sparkly sparkly sparkly blue-gray eyes, all barely held tears

I think a lot about… There’s a casual detailed realism to Alda and Farrell’s acting with patients. I think what it is is this thing where they’re delivering the light dialogue to reassure, but it’s laid over something still attentive and thoughtful. Underneath the blithe jokes you can see them actually assessing how they’re doing, taking in and gathering information. Here it’s this quick beat amidst quips of Hawkeye bending his own elbow and asking “Can you do that?” and watching as Radar mirrors him.

Wooo I had to pause for a second to feel some feelings!!!!! God Alda I can’t stand that you wrote this, you wrote all this…tearing into your character’s faults and vulnerabilities…god I love you

Father Mulcahy is incensed!! He’s outraged!! </3/3 I’m losing my mind

Hahhhh Margaret like no no no, I pre-DATE you with him, Colonel, I get to yell at him first

I looooooove this episode. I love how unfair it is. It’s so unfair for Radar to be wounded and let down, and to be yelled at for this by this person he relies on, to be yelled at for feeling betrayed by Hawkeye because he loves him. And it’s so unfair for Hawkeye that it’s because he loves Radar that this even happened, that he's only fallen because he was and is so messed up over Radar getting injured. And that it doesn’t matter to the sequence of people now coming to shout at Hawkeye for shouting at Radar for holding him to this higher standard he’s stuck being held to because usually he is strong, but currently feels completely incapable of maintaining because Radar’s hurt and shouting at him. It’s all just so unfair and it’s all because everyone LOVES each other and I love that.

Can’t believe the course my life has taken has resulted in Klinger naming his imaginary camel the one Arabic word I know: Darling

Oh man, wasn’t there an episode where Henry actually pulled rank and was like oh no, you can’t arrest anyone here without going through me? Any time this happens, well I like that.

God, guess whose rampant bisexual behavior is back being tossed around in public. I’m blissful.

Also: “Knock off the didos, Pierce, we’ve got work to do.”

Wowzers

“How would you like to be up to your knees in floor.” Margaret 😂

Hawkeye is So Bothered that this guy got BJ arrested. He’s not letting this one go. He’s already called him a creep—one of the more damning designations from him! This is actually rather rare in their arrangement as has been, that Hawkeye is the one getting worked up protecting BJ—usually it’s swapped. He’s almost a little scarily unforgiving. I’m very interested by this.

Noooo your therapist has a head wound! Terrific dramatic irony, Alda. Please don’t comment on it, make me proud… Aw you make me so proud. And my goodness you love this character.

BJ: “You touch his nose, Charles, you’re gonna have to marry him.” GOD we’re back :)) Thanks for seeing me, M*A*S*H

Aw Sidney my dear

Demerit for ending with ‘Keep the Home Fires Burning’ though. [pleasant BJ voice] Fuck off, Ivor Novello.

Hawkeye: “Charles, come on, as a friend?” Charles: “Not eeeven as an enemy.” God, tasty. Tasty dialogue.

Why is everything Charles Winchester says so fucking funny. I go to write it down and it’s half just in his delivery—David Ogden Stiers is good stuff.

Hawkeye: “Thank you, thank you, I’d give you a hug but in my condition I might not be able to stop.” Ohoho, nyhaha, ah. The dressy khakis in an apron and splashed all over with plaster of Paris is also unfortunately some kind of look. It’s just novel, but we shouldn't undercount that effect.

Charles: “One of my tent mates is a relatively inoffensive chap named BJ Hunnicutt. Excellent surgeon, in spite of the fact that he was, born, raised, and studied in….California.” What did I say! What did I say!!

The fact that one of BJ’s strength is that everyone thinks he’s a sweetie, and he is, but also he’s sneaking around playing tricks, is delish.

Know that they’re beaming with love & glee while pretending to polish their shoes (BJ’s is a rubber chicken) for this entire exchange: Hawkeye: “You’re a vicious fiend.” BJ: “Worse than you?” Hawkeye: “By far.” BJ: “Nicest thing you ever said to me, thank you.” Hawkeye: “Oh my pleasure.” BJ: “My pleasure.” Hawkeye: “Any time.”

The bit where they just collapse in pure exhaustion and never makes it to their planned romp in Seoul is an oldie but a goodie

The instant I’m looking at scrubs over sweaters, I know I’m going to be enjoying an episode

God they’re all so cute when they’re cold

Charles’ clipped accent keeps making me think he’s saying “Hanukkah” when he’s actually addressing “Hunnicutt”

God they’re all so cute when they’re trying to solve a mystery novel together

Make-out fade to black. Classy.

Mike Farrell’s golden arms.. Reblog if u agree.

What kills me is that the final button of Hawkeye & Margaret is easily 10x as good as the rest of the episode, which I know is a relationship that will be forgotten by the show immediately so could never buy it for a second, but this I’ll buy every day, I’ll take out a subscription, long term. You two!

Potter: “We’ve staggered down this road before. You’ve got a razzle dazzle going.” Klinger: “Wrong sir, respectfully.” Potter: “I’m gonna love this one, it’s got a lot of reverse top-spin.” I love him. I love them.

Why do I so like a tie tucked into a shirt

Wait, so I didn’t spend enough time having a reaction to this when they’ve gotten their pay in the past, but they’re being paid in like, notgeld? What kind of company town is this! How are they paying Rosie??!

I swear Alda is getting greyer and skinnier every time I see him this season. Don’t become an actual ghost, babe.

BJ’s hair is getting longer & fluffier, too

Klinger’s first name is Max?? Well I love it

This sweet baby nurse reminds me of Marcia Strassman—I miss her! Hawkeye’s best girlfriend, in five seasons haven’t met her equal.

Why are you playing cat’s cradle with your own face, he’s right there

Huh, we’re really against tattoos now? Weird hill to die on, but okay

Potter: “Pierce, Hunnicutt, you mind going up against each other as team captains?” Hunnicutt: “What do you say, powder puff?” Pierce, big gay leg cross: “Well it will prove who’s the fairest in the land.” These moments happen and I literally say aloud, “Thank God”

Loretta!….LEGS <3

BJ Hunnicutt, I would like an entire oral history of your choice to wear your pink armband tied around your upper thigh

Watching this historic Olympics footage really makes me feel like we’ve gone too far with athletes

Just, a lot of symbolic-looking yarn winding with Hawkeye and BJ, huh. What threads tie you together, et cetera.

Charles: “Haven’t you ever seen truffles before?” BJ: “Nobody knows the truffles I’ve seen.” [Alda: might actually laugh for real, as this is so goofy and not his usual HAH] Charles: “Here you are, gentlemen.” BJ: “Oh, goody!” Hawkeye: “Mm-mm, chopped liver!” Charles: “It’s pâte de foie gras” BJ, gesturing to his mouth: “I happen to know Paddy De Foie Gras and this definitely isn’t him.” Okay who wrote this one, they get it

I like Potter pointing out Hawkeye’s hypocrisy of “railing against violence and insensitivity, then to prove your point you attack a man.” Many people could stand to hear this I think! Not to be bold!

[reminiscing about some dance hall in Toledo] “I gotta go kid. I’m breaking my heart.” Klingerrrrr <3 <3 <3 Me about the theme song.

I love irritated Potter, he’s so punchy. “Explain to me, why am I here?”

It’s been a while since we’ve had an episode where some random brass is like “I hate Hawkeye!,” and then they watch him do surgery for 48 hours straight, and are like “Never mind, he’s allowed. Also, related, I would like to never be here again.”

The Alda Two-Reveal Slow Camera Pull-Back but it’s adding BJ showering next to him singing his own opera part, then Charles in a robe crossing in front of them combing his hair. Oh and my review of this is: choicechoicechoicechoice

BJ: “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Hawk: “What don’t you do?” BJ: “I’ll think of something.”

Margaret: “HOW CAN A GROWN MAN BE SO MECHANICALLY INCOMPETENT.” Hawkeye: “I take a lot of cabs.”

Oooo I like BJ pacing in his doctor’s coat, fretting, gnawing a nail

[getting out the shrapnel] “There. You wanna look at it?” “Don’t be morbid! Just clean it up and put a dressing on it.” Love that these speakers are not who you might guess they are :)

Margaret to Hawkeye: “Do you know what it feels like to give your heart to somebody? To live just for a glimpse of his handwriting in the mail?” Hm pardon me while I just scoop this up nicely and hold it for a moment, emotionally panicking!

“Oh, I think I should warn you. If you come over here for any reason during the night, announce yourself. I intend to swing this to kill.” I fucking love her sometimes. Alan, this line, Loretta, this delivery. He’s so good at writing for her, and she just takes it and Runs.

Welp, look at that—suddenly need to qualify that last part!! Hey Part 2 what is this???

Y'know the thing is though, I sooooooo support Margaret & Hawkeye boning. Oh do I. But this, is not it! This is supposed happen in an episode where they’re mostly squabbling with each other, this is right. It keeps it part of the way they squabble. If it came out of them being all tenderness, the risk there is that then it feels like it needs to become a real thing, and it won’t work as a real thing. Or not real, this is so real, I mean as like a usual romantic relationship. Their relationship is not romantic, but frankly has always been erotic. It’s sort of the opposite of how Hawkeye has mostly been with BJ, really. (That the biggest mix of both was with Trapper is why I still can’t really talk about that !)

Anyway Hawkeye & Margaret are the horniest characters on this show, and that’s why this should so happen. For both of them, sex is a major part of the way they experience & process the world and other people in it. And with them always sparking as much as they have, absolutely should it come to this someday. And it’s so good to wait until this far in, because at this point they’ve also grown to genuinely respect each other. This can actually be a kind of gesture of mutual respect between them, a meeting as equals (on the sexy field). I mean the set-up here is actually quite good: bickering and stressing under intense fear and danger, but I want it to be a tiny bit more of a decision, again a kind of meeting at the table, not this accidental brush of lips. Maybe we keep the shelling and the shouting but do it simpler, Margaret screams and Hawkeye yells out in the dark "Margaret!" "[sobbing] What?!" "I'm coming over there!" "You'd better!" And then they're just cowering tightly in each other's arms under the blanket, and it becomes clear he has his hand clenched in the back of her hair, and she has hers gripping the open collar of his shirt, and then we just take it from there. Still keeping it simple, maybe: "Hey?," a request, and "Yeah," an acknowledgement of same. Yeah. Take comfort. Take distraction. Both be a little prideful in how good you can do ‘em—a little bit of a competition, where everyone wins. This is what I want.

And then here’s what’s not all supposed to happen next: what happens in Part 2! Margaret has always been a character who knows her own mind, knows what she wants, almost to a fault at times, and there’s no way she wants to pursue this as a romance. Even just later this same season, she’s going to think she’s pregnant, and in 1952, be like, I do not want this baby. This does not align with what I want out of this marriage or my career. There is zero way she wants to commit herself to dating Hawkeye, and Hawkeye of course does not want to be dating Margaret, and that should be the miscommunication driver of the next episode: they’re both worried the other is going to think this is a romance now when that is not what this was or is, and in their equivalently nice & awkward handling of each other the next day, are of course absolutely going to think the other is nervously smitten, and be smiling weakly at each other while privately they’re both Wirt dragging his fingers down his face whisper-rasping “Noooooo.” And then finally they manage to get it out, possibly they both start making the same confession at once like they’re Radar and one of his colonels, and then are just collapsing in relief like OH THANK GOD. Listen that was good, but that was just an elevated facet of our existing relationship, it's own weird thing that can stay its own weird thing, and (nice little ‘Aid Station’ call-back, and it’s Margaret this time doing the deliberate reprise): “If you tell this to anyone, I’ll deny it. <3” And Hawkeye’s like, “That’s why I love you :),” and it’s sweet and understood and joshing and cute.

But, all this is not what we get. An error! Well, we do eventually end in a place somewhat akin, an understanding of friendship, and they’ve each had a bit where they like, have ~learned something about themselves~, and each other, but even that part feels a little falsey, and in between, a lot of positively agéd woman-pursues-resistant-man nonsense. But we can FIX IT just call me up with time travel abilities and we’ll get this banged out right, no pun intended.

Okay where were we. Oh, something unexpected!! Well first, this:

Potter: “I hope you’re shaking a leg, Winchester.” Charles: “Colonel, my graceful fingers are dancing o’er the innards of this hapless doughboy, and when I am done, I shall be done.” Potter: “I’m sorry I asked.” Charles: “That’s what I had in mind.” Tasty.

And then: BJ saying he can’t sleep because he keeps expecting Hawkeye to walk through the door. BJ saying he wishes his heart was in the right place, as right now it’s in his mouth. BJ risking life & court martial to get a chopper and find them. BJ singing a welcome back song about how he adores ya, please don't put him through this again. How is BJ ending up being the biggest romantic choice of the Margaret/Hawkeye two-parter, that’s the sort of thing you make up on Tumblr, not the sort of thing that actually happens?? Alan??!

Hawkeye: “How’d you like to save my life again?” BJ: “Sure, you want me to fight her for you? [little committed sigh]” Mike???!

Finally looked up the inflation on 1952 money: you can baaasically just multiple it by 10 for a rough estimate. This will be useful.

Ooo! Been a few years since you’ve identified as female in dialogue, Mother Hawkeye!

“See you for dinner, Beej?” “Our little spot.”

HYANNIS PORT. I CHOKED ON MY WINE. Oh fuck, haha fuck—this is a Kennedys joke isn’t it. GAWD.

Hawkeye just amiably hosing down Nurse Kellye and her pal's outstretched limbs in the heat. You love to see this. This is so domestic.

Maaaargaret, the halter top!! Whew now I’m feeling toasty!

You two are sweating through your shirts but you gotta be close, huh

The way she slides his hand on the line like a piece of laundry, lol. This is the Margaret & Hawkeye I love, thank you. (What went wrong! The rest of this season is so right!)

And we get to see Mulcahy in short sleeves? What doesn’t this episode have

I like the theme that Hawkeye’s boyfriends are always golden gods to his iron-haired slump

The new bit where everyone makes fun of Hawk for being basically a surgical idiot savant who knows shit about fixing anything else is really good.

[Knock knock] “Enter the mausoleum.” “Hello goils, hello.” “What do you two want.” “Love and respect, but we’ll settle for love.” I love everyone in this nurses tent

Hawkeye & Margaret are so cute this episode. Seriously, the two immediately after ‘Comrades In Arms, Part 2’ are both showing up ‘Comrades In Arms, Part 2’ hand over foot

A bit everyone seems to have immediately wanted to keep up, probably because it’s so odd and funny, is Charles for some reason clearly believes Margaret must be cultured, and he’s so thoughtlessly certain of this that absolutely no hilarious thing she replies with immediately proving the contrary seems to register with him.

Deploying his warm, tireless, rail-at-me-if-you-want steadiness to helping a morphine-addicted patient get through withdrawal is SUCH a BJ plot. Amazing we hadn’t done that yet.

“Oh no thanks, when I lose I like to know why.” Sometimes Radar is incredibly profound while he’s making me laugh so much.

I swear the new writers who have come in this season fell for it in those first few years. This show is running long enough that it can start referencing its own eras.

Margaret playing Charles the world’s smallest violin!!!! BABE?

I gotta say, I don’t think you all understand how blood types work. You can give the AB negative kid A, B, or even O, as long as it’s also negative. He could literally only take more blood types if he was AB positive. The one you really want when you’re doing these plots is O negative, because they can only take other O negative, and that’s always gonna be in short supply because it’s the universal blank slate, you can use it for any other type you’re running out of, or if they’ve lost their dog tags and you don’t know their type at all. That's the one you want for this!

Klinger is trying to drag Hawkeye off to bed as BJ sleepily encourages over his protestations: “Don’t ask, just take him.” BJ [chinhands] I have so many thoughts about you

“Come on, if you can’t tell your number one nemesis who can you tell?” Again, this is exactly what I love about you guys. This is, in fact, the best Margaret & Hawkeye season yet, despite my one complaint!

Hawkeye genuinely so excited and sweet, exclaiming that all they see is death and destruction and now here’s life thanks to her. And Margaret going no, no this is not good, I do not want this baby right now. This kinda extremely rules.

Waitaminute. We won’t…we wouldn’t???! Will we??!!

We will not, but I will learn how you did a pregnancy test in the 1950s! Wow!!

Klinger: “Excuse me for saying so—your mail is leaking, Colonel.” Potter: “Honey.” Klinger: “Your mail is leaking, honey.”

Wait I love the Pierce & Mulcahy live show. They’re dueting.

Hawkeye: “What do you say I take you home and put you to bed.” BJ: “Aw you service men are all alike.” It’s giving Trapper era... I’m in a tidal pool of emotions.

Hawkeye: “May your fingers never lose their cunning.” Father Mulcahy: “Ah, see you in church!” Lot going on in the officer’s club tonight

Oh! Hawkeye Pierce is the only child of a widower. In Maine. Yeah, that might make this.

I don’t know why BJ character reveals always feel worth their weight in gold, but: what has him so distressed is the idea that Peggy might not need him any more. He needs to be needed. No wonder you took one look at lorn bedraggled weird Hawkeye Pierce and said, hi, I’m BJ.

If this means this episode we’re going to get BJ alone with Charles going full maniacal to make up for Hawkeye’s absence, I’ll so support it.

“A little to the left, dear”—it begins.

Oh em gee Margaret’s old bestie??! :)) They were such scamps!

Oh em gee, the boys be plotting! The boys being BJ & Charles. Wow Hawk’s gonna come back and not only is Charles going to be like oh thank god, but also he and BJ are going to have An Understanding—this is gonna come up pluses all around.

THIS IS SUCH A GOOD MARGARET EPISODE, MEANWHILE

“They hated me. The doctors, nurses, everybody. Kept telling me I was dull.” You could say a whole lot of things about Captain Pierce, but they managed to find the one thing that would make that other MASH seem completely deranged. They said you were what?

Charles literally exclaiming how much he missed him and grabbing him into a bewildered hug, only for BJ to then happily tackle them both with his long arms—great!!!!

It’s now one year until Potter retires. This whole season has lasted: two months.

Counterpoint, Charles - he has been here: six months. I love this :)

“Look at that brazen hussy over there. And the woman he’s with,” BJ, glowering in sexual jealousy at Hawkeye across the party. “You’re all lunatics,” Margaret, in a cream turtleneck, correctly.

I just love Charles being like PLS, that is so not the tactic I would have taken, you want this angle. The thing is, Frank was always a dumbdumb—and for all his posturing about it, Charles actually is intelligent. He just uses it in ways that displease us. But, once in a blue moon, he can turn around and use it in ways we want, ways to help, and it’s a Thrill. God, when we finally reach the point where Charles unbidden uses his influence & largess to save or protect one of them, easy money’s on Hawkeye but more interesting money is on BJ, it’s all over for us, huh. Meaning our cool.

Gary Burghoff is going next level with this mailbag protection performance and I am hortling

This drop to beneath the table! Great little bit of direction

Hawkeye to Potter, in a way I can’t quite describe but will stick with me a long time: “You could give me a hundred good reasons to leave, and I can’t give you one good reason to stay. Stay anyway.”

Why do you have a whole bottle of amphetamines in stock?

God remember when House drugged Wilson. “I’m on speeeeed!”

“Who wrote that?” “Charles Emerson Winchester, while still in undergraduate.” “It sounded very…collegiate.” FATHER.

“Good night, BJ.” “Good night, Hawkeye.” Together: “Good night, Charles.” Charles, sing-songing: “You promised.”

Marine: “Hey Radar—you and your mouse, are okay.” I’m McLosing it.

That Charles is always reminding us he was almost the head of thoracic surgery is so funny. He wasn’t actually.

Five points to Harry Morgan for how my pulse picked up at the way he asked Hawkeye to close the door because he has something to disclose to them. What is it gonna be!!

Fuck. Yes. The Placebo Plot. Oh what a fun little finale for me, as a weirdo.

— — —

Season Viewguides

These

[evilasiangenius]

Cautious and careful, Aziraphale began to back up. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his breathing as he slowly moved away, and as he did so he gestured, applying the gentlest of miracles to shoo the panther away.

“Go on your way, please,” Aziraphale murmured. “There’s nothing here for you. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt, the humans have spears and are out for blood. Go find easier prey somewhere else; this isn’t worth your time.”

But piercing emerald eyes followed him nonetheless, pupils dilating, and just as Aziraphale was wondering if he should have used something stronger, the panther suddenly leapt at him.

“Look out!”

Someone shouted, and Aziraphale found himself miraculously a few feet to the left from where he was before, as if he had moved so fast that the world around him had shifted. Claws and fangs bared, the panther landed in the spot where the angel had been in, tearing furiously at the dusty ground and immediately Aziraphale knew he had to run.

Instinct took over, the innate animalistic programming of a corporeal body, and the angel stumbled through patches of dry grasses and scrub, cutting downhill back toward the river in a desperate and ungainly run. Branches and thorns rudely snagged and tore at his hair, his clothes, the skin of his arms and legs. The humans began to shout, and for a moment Aziraphale could not understand the words but then Crowley’s voice rang out.

“Drop it! For the love of... you idiot, drop the carcass!”

With a gasp Aziraphale stared at his right hand. Horrified, he realized that he was still gripping onto the tied up deer skin, blood dripping in a crimson trail behind him. With a choked cry he tossed the ersatz bag aside, glancing back to see if the panther had taken the bait.

It didn’t work. Even the motion of the thrown deer carcass did nothing to distract the beast. Inexorable, the panther lunged after Aziraphale, cold emerald eyes fixed upon the angel’s form, slavering fangs snapping.

With a gasp Aziraphale darted to the right, just barely keeping on his feet as he ran faster than he had ever run before.

Discorporation. The word ran over and over in his head, and he was going to be pulled off this assignment, and it would be so much documentation and meetings and training and retraining that he might be trapped in Heaven until the end of time itself but if he could just get to the river, perhaps he could jump in and avoid the panther’s claws. After all, it was not as if he could drown and he was pretty sure that panthers couldn’t swim.

The river was a growing black line in the distance, and Aziraphale dodged tearing claws that reached for him, scrambling up a rise. A javelin thudded into the ground near the panther, just missing it, followed by two more in quick succession that also missed. Another whistled past, knocked off course by a gust of wind and clattering harmlessly away.

One more javelin, and oh if only it would be guided true. Aziraphale gasped, panting for breath as he got his bearings again, sandals slapping against bare dirt that was rough and rocky with patches of scattered grasses clinging tenuous between stones embedded in the hard ground. One more javelin was all that stood between him and discorporation.

The javelin came, flying straight and sure, only to land just short of the panther’s paws, missing it by a handwidth.

“Oh Lord,” Aziraphale groaned as he dodged tearing claws, barely keeping upright as he desperately tried not to fall as he ran. With a final burst of strength, he clambered up the embankment toward the river, ready to jump in and as he did so the strap of his sandal tore out of the leather bed of the sole. Stumbling forward, trying not to trip and fall onto his face, Aziraphale skidded to a halt.

A flash of gold. His ring of office flew forward from the sudden change of momentum and instead of falling back safely against his chest, the leather cord it hung from snapped.

Time seemed almost to slow as Aziraphale’s fumbling hands reached for the ring, but it remained frustratingly just out of grasp.

“My ring!” Aziraphale gasped, as the golden signet flew past desperate grasping hands and into the water, disappearing with a tiny plop of a splash.

And then he remembered the panther, and the angel turned to shield his face and head with his arms, but just as the panther caught up to him, leaping for him, it suddenly disappeared, blinking out of existence.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered, grateful for the rescue. Trembling all over and weak at the knees, he sat down heavily to catch his breath, clutching his chest as if it would still the frantic pounding of his heart, hearing the shouts and thudding feet of the humans and Crowley as they caught up to him.

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