#//Yup Gall's big now

[noir-drabbles]

Draft 3

Summary: You bring in a new guest that you probably should've left for dead in the ditch he put himself in. Oh well, he seems interesting enough, despite his clear exhaustion. At least you can help him bathe.

(Honestly still don't know if I want to stick with this concept of Viper. I like miserable men that's for sure. Viper is such a sourpuss in my mind, especially before his inevitable corruption at the hands of the Reader who may or may not be connected to the family tragedy that kickstarted Viper's need for revenge.)

“Hmm, you're not pushing me away,” you noted as you sprayed a small cut on his arm, watching the blood and muddy muck flow right down, “Didn't take you for someone that would be calm in good company.”

Or any company for that matter. When you pulled his arm over your shoulder, you were pretty much expecting him to fight you until he passed out. Would've let him too, just so you could drag him to a dry place all the easier. But no. You offered a helping hand and he didn't reject. He didn't accept either but the lack of resistance was enough. You're not one to take no for an answer

“It doesn't matter,” he wasn't even watching you. In fact, he hasn't looked at your eyes since you dragged him in here in your small little house you inherited. Just kept dazing off, gaze landing on any corner of the room, not quite here, “I got enough of 'em.”

And he sounded sleepy too.

“Heyo, wake up,” you tapped at his shoulder and he jolted, sloshing the water right over the rim of the tub and onto your bare feet, “Don't fall asleep. I want to talk. Who's them? The corpses?”

“Rats, vultures, the lot of them,” his words were slurring and he sunk deeper into the warm bath. You should probably get him out of here soon, but you'd like for him to be clean before you leave him be on your freshly washed sheets. Infections are nasty, festering on the aging of waste and grime. “Didn't get them all, but I got enough. Enough, enough… I'm enough, and I'm tired.”

Sounds like quite the long hunt. And exhausting, to place your self worth on whatever vengeance journey he’s on.

“Alrighty alrighy, lot of carrion feasting I see,” you washed the bubbles out of his white hair, “though, you might want to stop with the dramatics, you're not dying yet. I mean, look down.”

He already was so all it took was a movement of the eyes.

“…it's gone,” there was no shock, simply disappointment. Only then did he finally slide his attention to you, “You…”

“Yup, that big ol hole is gone now,” you grabbed your pot, scooped up some scarlet water and pour it over the rest of his now clean injuries. They sealed over just like that. The benefits of one who was swallowed a drop of the Headless Snake's blood, “Sorry if you wanted to die in that ditch over there. It's too bad that you were doing all that while I was on my walks.”

You don't live close but you lived close by enough.

Leaning off his arm, the man pressed his fingers into his now solid stomach in the water. His lips pulled back, teeth grinding against one another. He slammed his fist into your bathroom wall, shattering the tiles into shards and fine powder.

You dropped your pot, seized his jaw and yanked him to face you properly. His eyes widened and his hand lashed out and grabbed your neck. The muscles in his palm twitched, as though about to squeeze, but like him, your expression didn't change.

As you both glared at one another, you spoke.

“I placed each and every one of those tiles in this bathroom by hand, stranger,” it was a personal project you did out of pure enjoyment. Hours upon hours of effort, and he had the gall to smash it in front of your face like you'll just stay there and watch, “This house is precious to me, left behind by people no longer here, dead and gone. If you're going to hit anything, hit yourself. At least those bruises will take minutes to heal from.”

The shower head dripped. The fog of humidity passed around the both of you as it floated out the water. Both of your breathes were mixing with one another.

“Don't go ruining what little I have left,” your words sparked something in him, because you saw his eyes finally look away.

He let go and let his hands sink into the water. He was his dour self once more, all hunched to the side, eyes clouding over in the air of grayness he had around him.

There we go. Now you can continue.

[popculturebuffet]

Jason David Frank Tribute: Power Rangers Wild Force: Forever Red Review (patreon Sign ON Review for Brotoman.exe)

In Loving Memory of Jason David Frank: 1979-2022

"May the Power Protect Him"

Like many around my generation, I met Jason David Frank one afternoon as a Teenager with Attidue. While any chlid worth his salt loved power rangers, it had teenagers in bright colored outfits beating up monsters in stock footage, what's not to love?, it really kicked into gear when a new kid kicked his way into town: Tommy Oliver, a cool new kid who swept Kimberly off her feat, actually beat big beefy lead boy Jason inc ombat, and then got brainwashed because of both of those things, becoming the rangers greatest threat as Rita made her own.. and then once freed of his mind control becoming the greatest one of them. Across three classic seasons, multiple returns, and another season down the line as a mentor to a new generation, Jason David Frank was THE Power Ranger.

Thus it was tragic that we lost him. My relatoinship with the franchise may of been "I watched the first five seasons as a kid, then dropped off, saw an episode or two then watched history of power rangers as an adult", but Jason always seemed like a nice guy who genuinely loved the franchise and us the fans. He was never too ashamed to step into bright spandex and his sudden death a few days ago was a blow to us all.

So it was a sad serendepity that this long scheduled patreon sign on review for my new friend and patreon Brotoman happened to end up on this week and he was more than happy to make it into a tribute to jason. And given Tommy is the most prominent red ranger besides Wild Force's own ranger in this episode, it was perfectly approraite.

For those either only casually familar with Power Rangers or familliar with the Zordon era but not so much what came after and if so I HIGHLY recommend Linkara's exaustive History of Power Rangers series on Youtube, but for now stick with this one: Wild Force was an end of an era as it was the final Power Rangers series aired on Fox Kids, before moving to ABC Kids (the former one Saturday Morning), and an era ender.

As such this episode, which is thankfully a standalone heavy on fanservice, serves as a nice caper. To celerbate the 10th anniversary, they got back ALMOST every red ranger. Rocky, the second red morphin ranger was absent. Why? He missed a phone call. No really, they didn't have the right phone number for him and by the time it was sorted out it was too late. And the galling thing is he was supposed to be just a backup for Austin St. John… which strikes me as odd given the aquatar ranger is right there. Just replace him. Still despite this it's a huge gathering of franchise faviorites.

The special was a bit rag tag, basing itself on a similar sentai special but using mostly new footage. It was INTENDED to both be an hour long special and have a much snappier climax.. but both things were shot down by new owners Disney wondering "Why are you spending so much time to promote old toys"

But what we get is a fun, cheesy half hour ride through the franchises history up to that point. So come with me as we honor Jason David Frank and may the power protect us all as we look at Forever Red.

Forever Red opens on the Moon, where a bunch of robots from the Machine Empire dig up a giant robot dragon named serpentera entirely missing the moonlander colony Yup this is power rangers: cheesy as heck, but gloriously and unafraidly so. For those needing a refresher the Machine Empire were the main villians of season 2, a giant unstoaple machine army.. that translated to the usual "send a giant monster to get his ass kicked by teenagers" formula, but still were neat. So using a few spare suits from another bit of my childhood, whose title must be said in song as is in my contrast

Which was dope.. and far more insane than I remembered. Though the comic strip bit always bugs me anytime I listen to this. There.. two diffrent mediums guys. Their both some of my faviorite mediums, but come on.

They had some remnants of the empire surivive to ressurect serpentera, Lord Zed's giant murder dragon WMD who is on the moon because it was in the writer's fanfic.

Luckily for earth, Andros, the red space ranger, is there, in a cloak because he generally likes to cloak around when he's being sneaky even if it dosen't remotely work as camoflage here on a robot covered moon. He plans to go warn the others but accidently trips a rock and then gets CHASED ON HORSEBACK BY TWO OF THE MACHINE EMPIRE GUYS, whose names i'm not bothering to learn as they all have the same personality of

But let's not bury the lead; TWO ROBOTS ARE CHASING AS SPACEMAN ON HORSES. I now want a full graphic novel from boom detaling why the machine empire has horses, what these majestic space horses can do, and why we never saw them again after scenes. I also applaud whoever was on set, saw they could get horses and decided "fuck it i'm going to have these big bad beetle borgs chase Andros on horseback". That person deserves a nobel for their contributions to humanity.

So we go to Bulk's poolside hangout spot, probably built where Ernies used to be, where he's regaling Skull with tales.. tales he was there for because they got into all kinds of weird shit together and tails he'll undoubtly pass on to Skull's own child when he raises him for a year as a samurai because he saw some power rangers do it and thought it'd be badass.

They get a call for Tommy, whose identity some cut stuff confirms they DO know now and it does make sense: it'd be easy to connect the dots from the space rangers unmasking in the finale of that series, to the guys who directly mentored them. Probably. Look I just like the idea they and tommy were friends. Tommy also has some very pointy frosted tips because clearly Jason tried out for Zoolander and didn't get the part and hadn't been able to wash them out when they filmed it.

We cut to.. wherever Wild Force is where Cole Evans, this series red ranger is picked up by Carter Grayson, Lightspeed Red Ranger and certified badass. How Carter does it is hilarious.. he just comes up to him in a park, says "are you the red wildforce ranger" and flashes his morpher like a badge to assure he's not some creepy weirdo who figured it all out.

Cole is also a lot. He looks like this

He looks like he escaped from the set of Miami Connection and it is glorious. His actor.. less so. I'll comment on this so no one else brings it up: Cole's actor murdered a man with a replica conan the barbarian sword, pled guilty to it, and while he's served his sentence he's understandably not being invited back to any other series after he ran a man through with a sword. I brought it up to get it out of the way. Granted even if he hadn't commited murder, i'd still be making fun of this guy for his hammy acting, hilarously awesome bandanda, and sleeveless vest, all of which is both cheesily enjoyable and gloriously stupid, but the fact he ran a man through with a fully functional replica conan sword just makes it go down easier. I limited myself to one Jason David Frank's frosted Tips Joke since he just died and all, I gotta get my laughs where I can.

So Cole runs off with a stranger and alone

And they meet at a Nasada warehouse where most of the other previous rangers show up: TJ from Turbo and In Space, Wes and Eric from Time Force (Whose quantum ranger was also red), and of course the king of all rangers, Tommy Olvier, former green and white mighty morphin ranger, red turbo ranger before TJ, future Black Dino Ranger and for this special Red Zeo ranger. Three are missing with Leo Corbett being later shown grabbing his sword that turns him into a ranger back, and picking up the Aquitian ranger because they had the costume so why not.

Tommy, naturally taking point as a living legend among the others as he damn well should be, has Andros fill them in: Serpentera is on the moon, the machines need to be stopped from using it to wipe out earth as it's that powerful and they got a fresh pack of triple a batteries for it, and he united all the red rangers and not every ranger he could get for such a mission.. because it was all Disney could afford and it gave them a badass looking group theme regardless of how many diffrent teams are represented. They plan to blast off in a recreation of the astro megaship, but their one short…. until Jason, the old son of a bitch rides up on his motorcycle. I planned to make the joke that we were just one handclap shy of the "you son of a bitch" scene from predator.. only for him and Tommy to FUCKING do it. I love this gloriously stupid franchise, bless you writers for just going ahead and doing it.

So our heroes head to the moon, and meet up with the other two and we get a truly badass sequence of EVERY ranger present having some morphing time as we get EVERY morph sequence. I'm convinced a good chunk of the budget went into this and it. was. worth. it.

What follows is about 5 minutes of awesome fight scenes. We get Jason and Cole back to back and they get the most actual character interactoin: there was more planned but you know

With Jason chiding the rookie.. but also clearly mentoring him a bit: sure he's ribbing the guy a tad, but after saving his ass gladly lets him get some shots in and fights along side him. He may give the rookie crap as he's going through some things while his actor goes through some criminal charges, but their both rangers through and through and he knows that.

We also get cool swordfight with thankfully not coll, but TJ and Leo, as well as a fun gun fight with Carter and one of the time force rangers. It's a solid bit of power rangers action. We also got an unmorphed fight I almost forgot about earlier that just.. kinda happened so fair enough me. I saved the best for last though as Tommy kicks off the fight.. literally by SUPER KICKING ONE OF THE MACHINE EMPIRE SO HARD HE EXPLODES. If anything summed up Jasons glorious long tenure with the franchise, it's Tommy Oliver super kicking a robot to death. That or him kicking Goldar while scremaing "out of your mind!".. which I couldn't find a clip or gif of.

The finale.. is infamously stupid. Like I said they wanted to maybe break out some zords, the astromegazord.. something.. instead to promote a toy Cole flies into serperntera, gets a zenkai boost or somethinga nd blows the fucker up. It's hliariously dumb to see Beef McLargehuge do this.. but kind of an antic climax after some really good fight coregraphy that showed off the various rangers skill sets.

Still the ending is nice as Tommy literally walks off into the sunset, Cole rightfully calls him the greatest ranger ever, and we get a fun scene of the other rangers piping in all the insane shit they did caping off this episode.

Forever Red is a nicely paced anniversary showcase, throwing in everything from nasada, to the machine empire to serpentera. Even Alpha gets a cameo and my boy Richard Steve Horvitz gets a paycheck. It's a loveletter to power rangers and while cheesy as hell, it's in the best way possible. Wethere your familiar with the franchise or not, it's a fun, bonkers 20 minutes of action, heart, and tommy oliver being badass. If you can think of a better way to honor jason than watching him do a predator handclasp and super kick robots ont he moon.. there probably is , but this is certainly one of the best. May the power protect you jason…

[wittylittle]

Ça fait longtemps que tu n'as pas fait un point sur tes amants, il y a du nouveau ?

Nouveau, non. Je passe mes journées à déconner avec le Prince de Galles. Je me réveille le matin et j’écoute ses audios :

« Bonjour Princess. Hope you had a lush sleep. I’m in work now bébé fille. Daddy misses you. Okay now. Big cwtch. Bisou. Au revoir »

Souvent je l’appelle avant de travailler. Il me met un sourire dans la face. Je ne veux pas raccrocher. Après on s’envoie des photos de n’importe quoi. On regarde les matchs de ⚽️ de nos pays. On prépare notre prochain voyage dans le Pembrokeshire. On s’envoie des cœurs. Quand je finis de travailler on se parle 1-2-3 heures en vidéo. Je le mets au lit. Pis je rêve au 29 décembre quand je vais l’embrasser dans le lobby de l’hôtel à Francfort après 5 mois à distance à se dire qu’on s’aime pis qu’on aimerait ça être ensemble tout le temps. Du gros romantique love débile que personne autour de nous ne comprend mais qui nous rend gaga au point d’avoir déjà parlé de mariage. Yup.

C’est plate hein ?

[1901ghost]

1. What are you wearing? Short jeans, pink blouse and a pink bow.

2. Ever been in love? Of course, even though I don’t want to do that anymore.

3. Ever had a terrible breakup? Yup.

4. How tall are you? 1,56cm (5ft3).

5. How much do you weigh? Around 54 kg.

6. Any tattoos you want? None. I don’t like them, but respect them.

7. Any piercings you want? Nope. Not my favorite thing.

8. OTP? A what? I'm🤡

9. Favourite show(s)? Anne with An E, Monster: The Jeffrey Dahmer Story, Malcolm in the Middle and Courage the Cowardly dog.

10. Favourite band? The Beatles 💕 then Queen

11. Something you miss? I miss my ballet and French classes, I miss the time where I didn’t have to worry about money.

12. Favourite song(s)? Well, there are many but the ones I have been listening to often for now are: Little Lamb Dragonfly, Maybe I’m Amazed, Hey Jude, Put your Records on by Corinne Bailey Rae, Starman by David Bowie, It’s all over now baby blue by Joan Baez, Romance in Durango and I Want you by Bob Dylan, Get it While you Can by Janis Joplin, Love you by Syd Barrett, Radio by Lana del Rey, All my loving by The Beatles, Führe Mich, Roter Sand and Dalai Lama by Rammstein, Ach so Gern and Platz Eins by Till Lindemann and Sola by Jorge Rigó.

13. How old are you? 31.

14. Zodiac Sign? Capricorn like Joan Baez, Janis Joplin, Elvis, Pattie Smith, Till Lindemann, David Bowie and Syd Barrett:)

15. Hair Colour? Dark Brown.

16. Favourite Quote? Many. “Kiss me, and you will see how important I am” ~Sylvia Plath

17. Favourite singer? Paul McCartney, Ringo Starr, Janis Joplin, Freddie Mercury, Lana del Rey, Corinne Bailey Rae, Leanne la Havas, Robert Plant, Jim Morrison, Syd Barrett, France Gall, Joan Baez, Till Lindemann and more.

18. Favorite color(s)? Pink, purple and black.

19. Loud music or soft music? Both actually, quiet music low and hard music louder.

20. Where do you go when you’re sad? I like to be in nature.

21. How long does it take you to shower? 30 minutes/one hour lmao, I have curly hair and it’s high maintenance.

22. How long does it take you to get ready in the morning? 20 or 30 minutes.

23. Ever been in a physical fight? Nope, I'm pretty calm. Back in 2006 I had to kick a guy because he was already bullying me too much and the principal didn’t want to take action because she said he did that because he had a crush on me, so I had to put a stop myself and grabbed him by the shirt and kicked him on the head and stomach. He stopped bullying me after that.

24. Turn on(s)? Effective communicator, emotionally responsible, empathetic, being kind to others, helping others, respectful towards others, someone who doesn’t like conflict and prefers peace, that isn’t too negative, compassion, monogamous, good sense of humour, groovy sense of style, good taste in music, non-verbal communication, respecting my tastes, open minded but has their own opinions, willing to love on me, being able to let go and be free with me, piercing eyes, nice smile, pale, big shaped, being able to understand me.

25. Turn off(s)? Manipulation or gaslighting, being disrespectful, selfish, inappropriate jokes, misogynistic, speciesist, homophobic, edgy, believing that you are better than everyone, doesn’t support abortion or hates any kind of human rights movement, not being grateful or not having class, not respecting my tastes, etc, etc.

26. The reason I joined Tumblr? I wanted to get into a place where I can share my nonsense and taste, share my thoughts and my love for life. Twitter and Facebook are too toxic, so full of hate and spiteful people. The community here is pretty good💖✨.

27. Fears? Many people are afraid of the death of oneself but I am more afraid of the death of my loved ones, height and chainsaws scare me to death and I’m scared of soldiers and policemen.

28. Last thing that made you cry? A video about a 1 month old puppy being rescued from the river but he died anyway.

29. Last time you cried? Yesterday :(

30. Meaning behind your URL? 1901 Ghost is because I looove everything Victorian and Edwardian Era, I also love the Roaring Twenties the 60’s and 70’s, but Victorian-Edwardian Era is so meaningful to me, so you will see more of that in my Tumblr wall.

31. Last book you read? Anne of the Green Gables.

32. Last song you listened to? Mamunia by Paul McCartney.

33. Last show you watched? Anne with an E.

34. Last person you talked to? My mom and my sister.

35. The relationship between you and the person you last texted? They my mom and sis and relationship is bunderful!

36. Favorite food? Tofu. If you want to win my heart, gimme some good tofu:)

37.Place you want to visit? I want to go to Brazil, Holland and Switzerland :’)

38. Last place you were? At my fave coffee shop.

39. Do you have a crush? Yup, a guy manager from DD :(

40. Last time you kissed someone? Haven’t kissed anyone yet. I know it’s weird that someone in their 30’s hasn’t experienced any of that, but I want to be kissed by the person that will be my life partner. I’m too conservative regarding that.

41. Last time you were insulted and what was it? It's weird that people insult me because I don't usually do bad things and mostly when I'm surrounded by people they rarely notice me, so I really don't remember when they last insulted me.

42. What color underwear are you wearing? Calm down darling

43. What colour shirt are you wearing? Pink.

44. What colour bottoms are you wearing? Light blue short jeans.

45. Wearing any bracelets? Yep, one that my little nephew gave me that has my name on it.

46. Last sport you played? I know it’s an art form but it’s also physical form, I did ballet.

47. Last song you sang? Radio by Lana del Rey

48. Last prank call you remember doing? Idk, maybe when I was younger and called someone to tell them I was the devil lol

49. Last time you hung out with someone? Loooooooooong time ago.

50. Favourite movie(s)? Sunrise 1927, One Week 1927, Aelita 1927, Wings 1927, Picnic at the Hanging Rock, Aimeé and Jaguar, Pearl 2022, anything silent film especially if it’s from Buster Keaton 💕

[cursedmouthgall]

A late bloomer...

Like everyone morning Gall woke up with the sun shining on his eye as he yawns softly and slowly sits up, but today felt different for some reason. The pull out sofa he slept on, creaked loudly under him when it normally only did that when Garry moved on it. “Old thing must be getting rusty.” Gall thinks as he slowly stands up only for his horns to brush against the ceiling causing him to blink in confusion. “Wha-?” He mutters before looking down at himself to see a much large frame as he rushes into the bathroom and looks at himself in the mirror before gasping loudly in amazement...

“OH...MY...GOD...I’M FINALLY NOT SHORT ANYMORE!” He yells loudly causing his roommate back in the living room to groan softly as he sat up in bed, his fur sticking out at odd angles as he yawns softly “What are ya yelling about Gally?” He asks as he gets up and trudges into the bathroom only to bump into his large blue friend as he rushes out of the bathroom “LOOK GARRY I’M FINALLY TALL!” The 6ft 6in monster said to his 7ft tall friend who stared at him mouth agape as he tries to process this. “H-How...w-why-?” “I don’t know and I don’t care I’m finally tall now!” He cheers before racing to get dressed and rush downstairs and out the store “Watch the store I’ll be back, I gotta show off to my friends!” He shouts after him as Garry just nods and stares at him in confusion “U-Uhh ok see ya later...”

[luxekook]

intimidation | myg

⇥ pairing: yoongi x reader

⇥ genre: fluff, a lil touch of smut, college AU

⇥ summary: in which you think Yoongi is intimidating bc of his dark clothing and his quiet ‘don’t give a fuck’ attitude… but then someone makes him laugh and you watch as his face lights up in the cutest gummy smile complete with shining eyes and blushing cheeks and BOOM you’re whipped for that boy

⇥ word count: 2.3k

⇥ warnings: dirty talk, light smut, cursing

⇥ sequel: intensity

Thursday, September 28th – 11:16am

Min Yoongi intimidated the living hell out of you.

While the boy in question was not all that tall or all that muscular, there was admittedly something in his aura that just screamed ‘big dick energy’... Not that you’d ever get the chance to confirm that hypothesis. You weren’t even sure you wanted to.

Shoulders slumping, you shifted your peripheral gaze off of Yoongi and back onto your professor as she droned on about evolution. Your shared Introduction to Biology class inspired an odd mix of dread and excitement every Tuesday/Thursday morning as a consequence of Min Yoongi’s sheer presence.

Your mind drifted back to the first class of the semester about a month ago...

Arriving in the lecture hall indicated on your class schedule, you took a seat in the middle of the room. You were spoiled for choice given that you had arrived fifteen minutes early for lecture. The first day of classes was always stressful for you, given your tendency to get lost within the many buildings on campus as well as your hatred for lateness.

As the room filled with more and more students, you shuffled through your backpack. “Where the hell is it?” you muttered, searching for your planner where you would jot down important notes.

Finally, you spotted it wedged in between two of your folders. Grasping it in triumph, you tugged it out of your backpack and placed it on your desk. Glancing back up, you found the coldest pair of brown eyes staring back at you.

“Is anyone sitting there?” The question came in a slow drawl, all rough and lazy. Long fingers adorned in rings shifted as the boy pointed towards the empty seat next to you. God, he was offensively good-looking.

You blinked and shook your head, “No, have at it.” His gaze pinned you in place for a few more brief seconds before his chin lifted in acknowledgment and he slumped into place beside you.

You had learned absolutely nothing that first class. Or any subsequent class that Min Yoongi deigned with his presence. The odds were about 50/50 on any given day.

Today, his presence was wreaking havoc on your nervous system. Since the initial encounter on your first day of class, the amount of words exchanged between the two of you could be counted on one hand. Last week he had asked you for your notes from a previous class he had missed, and you almost burned from the inside out with embarrassment as he took in your impeccably organized and color-coded notes with raised eyebrows and a slight smirk.

“Were you planning on framing these?” he had asked while snapping a quick series of photos of your notebook pages. In response, you had scowled, pulling your notebook out of his reach.

You were a nerd. You knew that. But you didn’t like being made fun of for it. Especially by a boy as arrogantly apathetic as Min fucking Yoongi.

Therefore, you were doing your absolute best to ignore him today. The hour and a half of class dragged by so slowly you thought you might have grown a couple gray hairs by the time your professor dismissed everyone.

Rushing to pack up your belongings and multitude of colored pens, a small slip of paper dropped onto your desk. Confused, you immediately glanced up to find the source and found Yoongi sauntering away from you, black backpack hitched over one shoulder carelessly.

Fingers shaking, you opened the hastily folded paper: “(y/n) – Sorry if I made you upset last class. I only meant to extend my compliments to the artist... – MYG.”

Compliments to the—Min Yoongi was so full of shit. But you couldn’t fight the small smile that spread across your face.

“(y/n) ... (y/n) ... (y/n)!”

The sound of your name shook you from your thoughts. Your roommate Nia decided that wasn’t enough and she shoved you in the arm.

“Ow, what the hell, Nia?” you grumbled, rubbing your left bicep dramatically.

Nia scoffed, “You’re staring into your bland salad like it holds the key to the universe. What’s up with you?”

Stabbing said salad with your fork, you waved your well-lettuced utensil in your roommate’s face, “What’s up is that I cannot stand Min Yoongi! He walks around looking like god’s gift to anyone attracted to men. Then, he has the audacity to critique my notes and give me a half-assed apology with further ridicule? The nerve! The gall!”

“I’m going to stop you right there,” Nia cut off your rampage succinctly, “Min Yoongi apologized to you? We are talking about the same Min Yoongi, right? Bleached hair? Piercings? General hatred for life?”

You nodded. Nia’s eyebrows rose to new heights, “We must contact the historians. This is one for the books.”

Rifling through your planner, you pulled out the note Yoongi left you and thrust it in Nia’s direction, “Look!”

Unfolding the small torn paper, you watched as Nia’s eyes darted back and forth... and back and forth... and back and forth.

“Well?”

Nia’s wide eyes lifted to yours, “(y/n) ... Min Yoongi is flirting with you.”

You choked on your lettuce, “What? Where on earth are you getting that? He’s clearly roasting me.”

“Nope,” Nia threw the note back at you, “Clearly flirting. Damn, Min Yoongi is into my best friend? This is wild! Okay, you first need to get on that, and then you need introduce me to Park Jimin.”

“Are you insane?” Your outburst gained annoyed looks from the surrounding students in the dining hall and you lowered your voice, “I am not ‘getting on’ anyone!”

Rolling her eyes, Nia stared pointedly to the right, “So if I'm hearing you correctly, you’re saying that you don’t find him attractive?”

Your eyes followed her line of vision and landed on none other than your topic of conversation. 

God, he looked good. Even surrounded by his group of attractive friends, Yoongi stood out to you. You were just about to glance away when it happened.

Kim Seokjin’s windshield wiper laugh burst through the cacophony of conversations, following what must have been one of his famously so-bad-they’re-good jokes.

And then Min Yoongi smiled.

Your heart stuttered in your chest as you watched his eyes crinkle, his cheeks turn a pretty pink and, his smile to widen into the cutest, most devastating gummy smile you had ever seen in your entire life.

“Holy fuck.” You exhaled. It was official. You were fucking whipped.

“Yup, that’s what I thought,” Nia’s smug tone pulled your focus away from this new version of Yoongi you were desperate to know, “Still going to deny that you want to jump his bones?”

“...No.”

You were scared shitless by Nia’s maniacal grin in response to your admission.

“Excellent,” she smirked, her palms rubbing together like a plotting villain, “Here’s what we’re going to do...”

Friday, September 29th – 10:34pm

Your hands tugged at the hem of the short leather miniskirt Nia loaned you for the night as your stomach flipped more times than Simone Biles’ floor routine.

Damn, you were nervous.

When Nia talked you into attending Kim Taehyung’s party, you had agreed pretty easily. You both had reasoned that Yoongi might not even be there; and, if he was, you would just see if he would approach you.

It had seemed so simple in the moment, but now as you grasped your beer you realized that nothing regarding Min Yoongi was simple. Since arriving about twenty minutes ago, you and Nia had immediately been recruited for beer pong by Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook. Unable to crush Nia’s dreams of hooking up with Jimin, you had agreed immediately even though you were both absolutely terrible at the game.

Jimin and Jungkook now only had one cup left to make, while you and Nia had five. You dipped the pong ball into the designated cup of water to clean it, took aim and watched in glee as the ball sailed into the front cup.

“Oh, fuck yes!” You and Nia high-fived, taking in the rare victory. Opening her mouth to respond, Nia’s words died in her throat as she looked over your shoulder.

“What is it?” you began to turn to see what was so alarming to your friend.

“No!” Nia hissed, “Don’t you dare turn around. Min Yoongi is staring at you like you’re a five-course meal and he’s starving.”

Your soul left your body, only to be snapped back into place with the interrupting cheers from Jimin and Jungkook as they sunk their last cup.

“Good game!” Jungkook’s arm wrapped around you in a half-hug. You shoot Nia a look, but she’s completely occupied in conversation with Jimin. Jungkook’s arm fell to encircle your waist when you felt it – the weight of a certain someone’s gaze.

You barely registered Jimin and Nia’s exit from the pong table and onto the makeshift dancefloor in Taehyung’s living room. And when Jungkook suggested getting another drink from the kitchen you almost shouted in agreement. Anything to escape the eyes you knew were glued to you.

He’s just a boy, you tried to remind yourself, you could handle Min Yoongi.

You followed Jungkook into the cramped kitchen, nodding along to whatever story he’s rambling on about. Locating the vast array of alcohol scattered along the kitchen island, you grabbed a solo cup and fixed yourself a rum and coke.

“...and then Jin-hyung said ‘It’s burgundy!’” You tuned back in to Jungkook’s story just in time to laugh in the appropriate place. You felt bad. Jungkook was cute and sweet, but just not your type.

“Jungkook,” a low voice broke through your shared laughter.

Jungkook’s eyes widened in alarm as he turned to face the intruder, “Yoongi-hyung! Wh-what’s up?”

Yoongi’s gaze narrowed; Jungkook gulped, “Bye, (y/n)-noona.”

You watched in horror as Jungkook literally scrambled out of the room to get away from you and Yoongi.

“Why’d you do that?” You looked up at Yoongi.

Damn, he looked good. His blonde locks were tousled like he had been running his hands through it and his cheeks were slightly flushed �� probably from drinking.

Yoongi ignored your question, shooting a look at the group of boys occupying the kitchen counter space next to you and they immediately made themselves scarce.

His dark gaze turned back to you, “Why Jungkook?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “What?”

“Why were you talking to Jungkook, (y/n)?” Yoongi moved closer to you, backing you into the counter behind you, “That boy couldn’t handle you.”

Your eyebrows quirked up, “And why’s that?”

“Because, baby, all that hair, all that ass, and all that attitude needs a man to give you what you want and what you need.”

You struggled to formulate an answer as you watched as he took a long sip of his beer, his eyes continuing to burn into yours.

“Are you drunk, Min Yoongi?”

“Lil’ bit,” he muttered and shot you a devastating half-smile, “But still sober enough to appreciate how goddamn good you look right now.”

Your mouth opened and closed several times before you choked out, “I thought you hated me?”

His hand darted through his hair as his jaw flexed once… twice, “Not even close.”

“But you don’t talk to me... you made fun of my notes!”

“I don’t talk to you because I think you’re so fucking cute with your colored pens and your oversized sweatshirts and your overused planner. I don’t talk to you because I want to ruin you and worship you all at once.”

All air had escaped your lungs at this point. You let out a jagged breath as Yoongi suddenly slid his hands around your waist.

He scooped you off the floor and placed you on the edge of the counter. Your arms circled his shoulders instinctually and his grip tightened on your hips. When he glanced down at you, he let out a rough breath, sounding like you were torturing him.

Turning to the side, you tried to hide from his intensity behind the curtain of your hair, but he just pushed it back behind your ear.

“Yoongi, please…” Your desperate words left your mouth subconsciously, the feeling of his lips so close to yours made your pulse race and your head spin.

“What do you want, baby?” he asked, his voice hoarse and his pupils dilated, “I’ll give you anything. Just ask.”

“Kiss me?” You barely finished asking your question before Yoongi’s lips slammed onto your own.

He kissed you like he wanted to own you – and to have you own him. Gravity tried to drag you down off the counter and your mouths separated in a gasp. Yoongi hoisted you up higher with a firm hand on the back of your thigh.

Hooking your leg around his slim waist, you tugged him into you, feeling every inch of his body respond to your touch. He breathed heavily as you dragged your nails down his back slowly, provokingly. You felt his responding groan rumble deep from within his chest.

His free hand latched into your hair and tugged your lips back to his. You both moaned as his tongue circled yours, twining around it, enticing yours to follow.

You swore the way Min Yoongi kissed could be felt all the way down to your bones.  

His kisses got greedier, more desperate as he seemed to be trying to memorize the taste of your mouth on his. “God-fucking-damn," he panted, pulling back slightly and resting his forehead on yours.

You smiled, completely fucked out. His fingertips dragged down your skin slowly until he reached your waist. His hands slid up under your shirt, and he rested his palms against your skin, fingers splayed down over your hips. His hold was undeniably possessive.

Shifting his head into the crevice of your neck, Yoongi muttered, “Go out with me, (y/n).”

The only answer your last few braincells could formulate was a garbled “Mkay”. But judging from the smile you felt against your pulse point, it was good enough for him.

a/n: originally was going to make this fic about jungkook (inspired by this post), but I decided I needed to write it about Yoongi bc he is baby

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

[bigskydreaming]

I am once more begging people, BEGGING, to at least READ Batman #416 if you’re going to cite every moment of Dick meeting Jason and then blowing up at Bruce, except in a totally ‘that’s not at all how it happened’ kinda way.

If I have to read ONE MORE sizzling hot take about how Dick blew up at Bruce and stormed off at the end of that encounter, when THIS is how it ACTUALLY ended....

Ah yes, the famous Dick Grayson temper, better described as ‘someone else loses their shit at Dick and fandom twists it into the exact opposite so he’s actually the bad guy all along.’

Was Dick heated before that point? Yup. Did he have reason to be? Also yup. Did Bruce, however, have reason to be heated that Dick had the gall to be coming back to his childhood home to confront him about the fact that after eighteen months of not speaking, when Bruce is the one who CHOSE to not even say goodbye to Dick or make any effort to still make a place for Dick in his life after firing him, with the only possible indication in all that time through which Dick was expected to come up with even an INKLING that Bruce missed him was discovering from reading the paper that Bruce had given his old mantle to a new, even younger partner? Its gonna be a big fat NOPE from me, guys.

There’s an exchange between them a few pages before this that always resonated with me....

Bruce: The truth is, I taught you everything I could. It was time for you to step out on your own.

Dick: So you figured the best thing for you to do was drive me out of your life, right? That’s exactly what you do to anyone who gets too close. Always hurt them before they have a chance to hurt you. It didn’t matter to you that I didn’t have any life other than the one we shared.

Like, I can not express any more clearly why it drives me so B-A-N-A-N-A-S to see people spin this so that it was Bruce that was somehow the victim of his son’s tempestuous, nomadic ways. Like he was somehow left behind, that Dick outgrew him or moved on, and everything Dick felt about Robin after the fact was him throwing spoiled temper tantrums that someone dared pick up something he no longer wanted. Umm. No times infinity and beyond.

Bruce was the one with all the power. Bruce was the one making all the choices. All Dick had, at most, was the choice to either stay somewhere Bruce seemed intent on driving him away from, or go somewhere else. This issue clearly expressed that like. Bruce wasn’t open to talking. Not when he fired Dick as Robin, there was no negotiating that, and even throughout this whole encounter here, where Dick comes here and says “I think you owe me some explanations” because based on everything Bruce was doing and how radically opposed those actions are to the last interactions he and Bruce had, which had a HUGE impact on Dick’s life, yes, he WAS owed explanations here, make no mistake....even here, Bruce spends the whole encounter acting like he’s being unfairly interrogated, like its trying his patience to even have to deal with Dick being there at all....

Phones work two ways, Bruce. There’s two people in this dynamic. If you haven’t heard from Dick in eighteen months, its equally true that he hasn’t heard from you in eighteen months. And if you missed him so damn much, you know what was always a perfectly valid way to express that, which DIDN’T involve anyone else? Picking up the damn phone and calling Dick and telling him that.

Bruce acts like that was never even an option, like HE was the one stuck with limited choices based on Dick’s behavior throughout all this time, and that’s just flat out, unconditionally, one hundred percent, NOT TRUE. Bruce was the one in charge. The one calling the shots. The one with the resources, the power, the authority. Dick was ALWAYS the one who had more to lose, of the two of them.

And Bruce knew all this when he took Dick in. He knew all this when he took Robin away from Dick while the latter was still a teenager, still living at home. And he was the one who failed to even so much as OFFER Dick an alternative take on how he could still be there, still be in Bruce’s life, part of his family, still share in being part of his life, the life the two of them had shared, now that Bruce had made the choice that Dick no longer had the option of living out his part of that life in the manner they’d BOTH built up for him originally.

And yet for so many years, fandom has added insult to injury by acting like the cherry on top here, Bruce giving away the very mantle he took from Dick, like this was somehow completely reasonable because in comparison, Dick is the one being unreasonable. People completely gloss over that little act of Bruce’s to focus instead on how Dick reacted, instead of giving that betrayal of trust its own fair due and focus, and the problem is....they don’t even actually focus on how Dick actually acted! Again, notice it was Dick who approached Bruce, and Bruce who told Dick to leave. It was Dick who had actual cause to be angry, but Bruce who blew up and broke shit because Dick dared demand answers. 

And this is the way Dick leaves things with Jason, btw. I know people know this part by now, mostly at least, about the phone number and such, but how many people have actually SEEN how that played out rather than just heard it summarized in a dry recitation of events that underplays just how that interaction went?

Like, that wasn’t just Dick acting like this was being FORCED upon him and bleeding reluctance at every turn. He went above and fucking beyond to make Jason feel welcomed and secure in his position as Robin. But that’s not how the narrative goes in fandom, is it? Even when acknowledging this part, people act like Dick was at most doing the bare minimum, instead of acknowledging that Dick didn’t owe anyone this at all. No, it wasn’t Jason’s fault he became Robin, but NONE of this was Dick’s fault, Dick’s choice, or Dick’s RESPONSIBILITY. He wasn’t living at home, in Bruce’s life, and he wasn’t adopted yet let alone even still Bruce’s ward at this point. He’d aged out at eighteen. Dick had NO actual ties to Bruce and by extension Jason at this particular moment in time, and thus no ACTUAL obligations to either of them, no matter how much fandom harps on him having failed Jason as a brother back during this time when more accurately, Bruce was actively failing Dick as a father - as in not even being one, but Dick’s responsibilities towards a family he didn’t have at the moment are supposed to be still intact? NOPE. Don’t think so.

But Dick, INSTEAD, puts Jason FIRST, puts him OVER his obviously hurt and bitter feelings to focus on what’s best for Jason here, and gives him literally everything he CAN to do right by Jason here. He gives Jason his own old costume and clear approval, cementing Jason’s place as Robin in a way not even Bruce could when giving it to Jason, because it was never Bruce’s to actually pass on. Jason even wonders earlier in the issue if Dick might want his old role back, and Dick puts that fear to rest, without any hesitation or doubt.

In addition, Dick offers up support and solidarity he doesn’t owe Jason, doesn’t owe anyone, because its HIS time, HIS support, its not something someone can take for granted and yet too many people do....especially considering that in the hyper-fixation on how much support and time Dick supposedly DIDN’T offer or grant Jason, most people pay next to no attention to the fact that it wasn’t like Dick was being given time or support by Bruce, ie Dick is going out of his way to offer stuff he’s not even getting himself, because he RECOGNIZES from that what its like not to have it. Basically what I mean is all that talk about Dick being a hypocrite for doing to others what he complains about Bruce not doing for him? Patently untrue, as we see here, because this is Dick actively acting upon what he’s missing out on by making sure that others don’t miss out on it because of Bruce’s failings or emotional repression.

And look at the end result.....Jason’s enjoying his teamup with Dick, these aren’t two people who look pained at being forced into proximity or acting like the other is a burden to be around or thinking the other doesn’t really want to be here. They were comfortable from practically the word go, because Dick knows how to make people uncomfortable but he also knows how to make people comfortable, and he made the CHOICE, the INTENT to make sure he was someone Jason felt WANTED to be there with him, the complete opposite of someone who is taking out their bitterness or resentment on their replacement or at least not trying to hide it very well.

So my question is.....what the hell else is it people wanted Dick to do? When they cite this issue specifically, at least, when they talk about the time Dick went to Gotham to confront Bruce about Robin, when they talk about the phone number or the costume or the teamup or the things that so often get mentioned in passing like they’re insignificant or the bare minimum or mere formalities that do nothing to take away from all the supposed OTHER asshole behavior that Dick allegedly heaped on Jason despite never actually happening anywhere, even a little bit, and thus that some people claim is just an extrapolation of how Dick PROBABLY acted off the page, given his clear resentment and jealousy....umm. Huh? Based off THIS? Seriously, I mean it. What ELSE was Dick supposed to have done, to counter that take, what else could he POSSIBLY have done to do right by Jason here, that he didn’t actually already do? What exactly did people want from this character, in order to not hold this eternal grudge they have against him for what a big old jerk he was to Jason, who did nothing to deserve it - with that part being true at least, and literally WHY Dick made the point to recognize that and not take out his feelings on Jason?

Like, this will never not be an axe for me to grind because like. The SPIN fandom always gives all this, when look at the last page of this issue......Bruce is watching from a distance, and even he’s like thanks Dick, and that honestly bugs me so much. Because in the end, the only one of these three characters who DIDN’T get what he wanted here, was Dick. Jason got the validation and security as Robin he was looking for, the approval of his predecessor, and words of advice and an offer to listen and be there should he ever want to talk. Bruce got Dick’s validation of the actions Bruce took that he had no right to take when giving his old mantle to Jason, but that Dick ratified all the same, even if it was for Jason’s sake and not Bruce’s. Bruce still got the closure on that particular mistake of his, with the evidence that Dick was willing to see past it for Jason’s sake rather than drag it out....like. Dick is the only one who didn’t get what he was looking for there, he didn’t even get an apology from Bruce for overstepping when he passed on Dick’s mantle, an acknowledgment that this was WRONG, the most Dick got was Bruce admitting for a single panel that he missed him.....before telling Dick to leave and get out and effectively taking back anything Dick could have possibly taken away from that admittance. Because what the fuck does it matter if someone misses you if even though they finally have you right there in front of them, they still tell you to leave again anyway?

In conclusion, I hate this issue, lol, because everybody seems to know what’s in it and yet practically nobody ever seems interested in referencing what’s ACTUALLY in it. Instead just forever playing telephone with the most bad faith interpretation of Dick’s actions possible.

[emmetrain]

Arms wrapped around Emmet gently, Ingo feeling a bit. . . concerned. He couldn't help it the more he thought about Emmet's predicament. "You are loved, you know?" Ingo asked. It was easier than outright saying it. "You're a wonderful person and an extraordinary brother. I do hope that the fates in your reality are kinder to you, you do not deserve the suffering you've endured."

"I-Ingo..." Not him, but also the only person who almost felt like him. Almost made Emmet feel safe in the messed-up world he had to thread alone--when he had never been alone...

Loved... Maybe... That was real, wasn't it? Ingo would never lie to him. And Emmet had no right to tell Ingo he should not care for someone who could not protect his own brother. Emmet was a failure, through and through.

And the rest of the words only crushed his heart harder. Did he deceive Ingo? Did he make him think highly of this utter waste of--...

He hugged back, biting down his lower lip not to cry, his nails digging to the coat with restraint, but still desperate.

"D-don't leave..." Emmet froze for a moment, horrified at the gall he had. "D-don't leave your Emmet, alright? H-he is wonderful, and has a... heart of gold. Get it? Because of his eyes--..." He said jokingly despite the pain. He... He might have deserved whatever came his way, but his twin had not. His brother did not deserve to be lost, to be forgotten...

He pulled back and wiped the tears, offering a big smile to Ingo. "You are verrrrry kind! Yup! I... I love you and Emmet with my whole heart. I.. I am glad we met. Come now, I have found a verrrry nice spot in one of the abandoned tunnels, where you can hear all the noise of the subway but do not need to see the people!" Emmet grabbed Ingo's hand, tugging at him gently as he forced himself to be happy. So happy. Happy enough that he could be a fun person to be around!

[magicbench]

~* I’m not dead I swear ! *~

I was just unable to lead the project properly this past month and a half, mostly due to health reasons. Wait, I planned to make an update next month, but why not doing it now since I can sit on my computer without suffering (too much) anymore x) So... Basically, I was in a really bad shape and health for several months but since I have a habit of not listening very well to my body I neglected it. I decided to do blood tests and other medical exams because it was starting to be really painful and inconvenient for work and my everyday life. At first the doctors didn’t find anything, but my state continued to get worse so yup. More blood tests, something finally came up and they thought it might have been life threatening. Fortunately it was not, after more exams we found out it was “only” a rather big calculus in my gall bladder. Said gall bladder which was out of service for years without me knowing about it, so we decided to completely remove it. Yes, I have a hole inside my belly now (° v °) The surgery happened on March 26, and I’m only slowly starting to suffer less from it now. Also ! I have to rest and avoid any stressful or tiresome activities for a whole month, so... please bear with me and the slow progress on Colors of Fate until May for more updates (T ^ T)/ ★ Buuuuut I hope you’ll forgive me with those two new profiles ! Which one would you like to have sexy times with as a loyal companion through your Princess or Maid journey ? A flirty and friendly herbalist who also practices a bit of alchemy ? Or maybe a grumpy, but in fact sweet and shy prince who likes necromancy ? Can I take both home, please ? ✿

J'étais juste incapable de mener le projet correctement ce dernier mois et demi, principalement pour des raisons de santé. Attendez, j'avais prévu de faire une mise à jour le mois prochain, mais pourquoi ne pas le faire maintenant puisque je peux m'asseoir devant mon écran d’ordi sans plus (trop) souffrir x) Donc... En gros, j'étais en très mauvaise santé depuis plusieurs mois mais comme j'ai l'habitude de ne pas vraiment écouter mon corps, je l'ai négligé. J'ai décidé de faire des analyses de sang et d'autres examens médicaux car ça commençait à être vraiment douloureux et gênant pour le travail et ma vie quotidienne. Au début, les médecins n'ont rien trouvé, mais mon état a continué à empirer. Après d'autres analyses de sang, quelque chose en est finalement ressorti et ils ont pensé que ça pouvait mettre ma vie en danger. Heureusement, ce n'était pas le cas. Après d'autres examens, on a découvert qu'il s'agissait "seulement" d'un calcul assez important dans ma vésicule biliaire. Dite vésicule biliaire qui était apparemment hors service depuis des années sans que je le sache, et on a donc décidé de l'enlever complètement. Oui, j'ai un trou dans le ventre maintenant (° v °) L'opération a eu lieu le 26 Mars, et je ne commence lentement à moins en souffrir seulement maintenant. Ah aussi ! Je dois me reposer et éviter toute activité stressante ou fatigante pendant un mois entier, alors... s'il vous plaît, soyez patients avec moi et la lente progression de Colors of Fate jusqu'en Mai pour plus de mises à jour (T ^ T)/. ★ Maaaais j'espère que vous me pardonnerez avec ces deux nouveaux profils ! Lequel aimeriez-vous avoir des moments sexy avec comme fidèle compagnon à vos côté dans votre aventure de Princesse ou de Maid ? Un herboriste charmeur et amical qui pratique aussi un peu l'alchimie ? Ou peut-être un prince grincheux, mais en fait doux et timide, qui aime la nécromancie ? J’ai le droit ramener les deux à la maison, s'il vous plaît ? ✿ -----------

Sprites credits : @AtelierAria

[storiesofsvu]

For your Bi and Spiraling Anon:

“Funny story” when I came out as Bisexual to my mother in my late teens/early 20s, I don’t 100% remember my age, she said, AND I QUOTE:

“Thank God, I thought you were going to say you were a lesbian.”

Because as a Bisexual person I could still marry a man, I could still give her the grandchildren she claimed she didn’t care about having. Jokes on her I’m barren. Though my brother made up for it with 2 boys so there’s that.

I came out again in December as GenderFluid/Agender & Pansexual. My parents have never fully understood the fluidity of sexuality and gender, they are both Boomers and we’ve gotten into many arguments over the years about trans rights, about marriage equality etc. My mother even had the gall to say that if I were to come out be “different because you’re my daughter” (god even that word makes me sick to my stomach typing it out) but it shouldn’t be. Either you accept all LGBTQIA+ people or you accept none of us. You can’t say “well I love my child but all other “insert characteristic here” people don’t matter.” and that’s... that’s not how that works. You shouldn’t have to -know- a person to care about their human rights. Parents and older people can be tough to deal with, it can suck.

But yes, my pansexual heart is always conflicted when Rita and Barba are on screen. The chemistry is gold, their relationship is fantastic and you just know if you were with them it would be amazing because they’d have to keep trying to outdo each other...

Woof.

Yeah it really isn’t the easiest trying to explain that kinda stuff to boomers. Like, my lesbian cousin did date men for a long time, she was engaged to one for a long time, they’re still good friends, occasionally two of her big exes show up at christmas for a drink or two or to help cook or whatever. But to my mom, it’s a “oh Maggie used to be straight, now she’s a lesbian” and while that is where she identifies now, there was still a point where she was seeing men & women.

My other cousin’s son is trans, and my mother and aunt have SUCH a hard time not deadnaming him, meanwhile, it’s completely okay for them to have gone by their middle names their ENTIRE lives, and it’s so easy for them to call Margaret Maggie and me Katt instead of my full name. Like….how is it different??!?

I think that’s part of why I’ve never officially came out to anyone aside from my generation of my family, cause they understand. If you asked me 10 years ago, i would’ve said “I’m bi, but I don’t think I would ever settle down with a woman long term” now…? The idea of a dick that isn’t plastic grosses me out. While I still would technically be bi, I classify myself as “gay” or “lesbian” more so because I heavily lean towards that side of the spectrum. But it’s all fluid, like, give me another 10 years I might be back on the other end again lolol.

People suck lolololol.

Bahahaha YUP!!!! They just have such a good dynamic, their chemistry is incredible, and I’m pretty sure it’s just because they’re *that* good actors, I’m 90% sure they hadn’t worked together prior to svu, but I’m not 100 sure.

WOOF. Yes they would… 👀 👀

[wolfiafuntime]

Rockin' Out For Omni-Vinyl City PT 1

Ben 10: Classic Bens as Musicians from No Straight Roads... And it's also an X Reader | PT 1

You couldn't believe what you had just heard.... How could he?! He's basically killing the art of rock -- no, he IS killing the art of rock!! And not only is he doing that, but on a way more important level, he's destroying his family!

"I... I can't believe him! What the fuck?!" You gasped in your anger, not noticing how your bandmate, Kirby, flinched at your rising rage.

"What..?" He whimpered. He had just been telling you about how things were going to turn out all right.

"That bastard! That discriminative bastard! Who does he think he is!? Who do your brothers think THEY are???"

"There's gotta be a reason..."

"Besides the fact that we were being OURSELVES?! Kirby, you're entire family just disowned you, live, in front of the ENITRE CITY, because you play the guitar better than you play EDM!" You hollared, throwing your arms up into the air as you paced back and forth.

"But..." Stopping, you went turned to yell some more. Not at him, just yell about the situation in general, but you stopped yourself when you saw the condition that he was in. He looked so... Broken.... Which was understandable, seeing as he was just publicly humiliated in front of the entirety of Omni-Vinyl City.

Sighing, you walked up to the brunette and pulled him into a hug. He returned it after a few seconds, squeezing you tight in his arms as he let the sobs escape from his mouth.

"I'm sorry that they did that to you. I'm sorry that those guys are such jerks, and that you've had to call them family."

"I thought that they supported me. But they don't! They hate me! I'm a disgrace! W-Where am I supposed to go? I..."

"You're welcome to stay with me for as long as you like, Kirb," You offered.

"You have a place of your own?"

"Of course, I do. I just never sleep there because I'm always hanging out with you."

Suddenly, all the lights in the city went out.

"Ugh. Another power outage? Now? Really?! I'm kind of trying to comfort my bestie here, Omni-Vinyl!" You groaned. Your mood slightly lifted when you heard Kirb's chuckle. You then heard some sort of echo, and gasped when you saw the most popular concert halls of each district lighting up. You quickly reconized that the very same concert halls, located at the top of five different towers, we're the homes of Kirb's family.

"Only the main concert halls have backup power?!" No Watch gasped. His sadness suddenly turned to anger at the sight before him, and he absentmindedly separated from you and took a few steps towards the towers. "What in the Null Void - how could my Dad and Uncles do this to Omni-Vinyl? Their own city!"

"I thought that they solved the problem. I thought that Omni-Vinyl only lost power temporarily for a few moments every few weeks." You spoke. Kirby wiped his eyes.

"First, I get publicly disowned. Then they denied not just my right to express myself through the music I like, but they do it to the entire city as well. Last, I find out that the energy has been kept from the public for who knows how long!"

"I can't believe that the Tennyson's have been abusing their power like this. I can't believe that I didn't find out until now... If those assholes think that they can just get away with this, then they've got another thing coming!"

"And it's not just coming from one person," Kirb added, taking your hand in his. "Those jerks have the gall to call themselves Heroes - well, half of them did. But it doesn't matter! By the end of this, all of them will know just how criminal they are."

"Yeah! We're gonna go 'Hero Time' on Tennyson Records!" You cheered.

"Turning my fa--... Turning the Tennyson's most famous phrase against them. You could say that this cross-city tour is gonna be... Rockin'!" You laughed at his joke.

"So, how do we free Omni-Vinyl from Tennyson Tyranny? I never listened to the lectures."

"You were never THERE for the lectures, (Y/N)," Kirby laughed.

"Oh..."

"It's fine. Basically, we just need to fight by brothers and get their personal discs, which control each of the five districts. Each disc gives it's owner some sort of special ability, too. And while I'd like to say that we'd get that ability once we got it, it's sadly not true. Uncle Azmuth has hooked each one of them up so it responds to a specific type of music, and not just the genre."

"So these discs only respond to the way the artist plays?" You asked.

"Yes," Kirb said with a nod. "But once we take it from them, they won't have the district or their power. So they'll basically be as harmless as us, if not more, seeing as most of them rely heavily on those CDs."

"Sounds difficult... But I'm in! How're we gonna get the discs?"

"Well, my fam- The TENNYSONS- usually keep the discs on them. In fact, it's kept inside the watches they wear, you remember them?"

"Yup. But how do they manage to get such big things inside such tiny devices?"

"Un-. Azmuth. Again. He made the watches able to shrink things, but only if those things are gonna be kept inside of the watch..."

"Aight. One last question,"

"Hit me,"

"If you're not a Tennyson anymore, than who are you?"

"Huh... Well... I'm the only one of them who never got a watch of some sort. So I guess that I'm 'No Watch'!"

"I like that! 'Kirby' sounded too childish for you."

"Thanks!" No Watch smiled. "Oh, you should get a cool name, too! 'Cause 'No Watch' wants no friends with lame names."

"Cool play on words, No Watch. Hmm. Oh! Seeing as this whole situation is centered around a revoloution, then how about 'Mayday'?!"

"Perfect! No Watch and Mayday, AKA Sonorosian, taking down Tennyson Records with the power of rock!" No Watch cheered, fist pumping the air.

"We're gonna go all Omni UltimateHero Time on their asses!"

"Please, no cursing, (Y/N) - I mean, Mayday."

"Oh, right. I've been doing that a lot, today, haven't I? Sorry, Kir-- No Watch. Kir No Watch. That's your new nickname." You joked.

"Whaaat? Nooo," No Watch joked back, giving you a slight shove. You both laughed, before remembering that you had to go save the city.

[blake-belladonna-defence-force]

The Owl House, Ep7

*wince* ohh boy. Baby sitting duties. Never fun when it wasn’t something you wanted to do.

D’aww. Somebody’s got a soft spot! And I love how Luz just immediately decides to befriend her based on that alone!

Uh oh. The twins spell trouble. They seem like the complete opposite of Amity and I’m worried that they’re going to be the classic older teens using the young kid trope... although... did Luz blush when they winked at her? Hm. Interesting.

Eda trying to be maternal is me whenever a baby is placed into my arms. “Uh... there there. Maternal thing... uh... help?”

“I’m allergic to the rules.” “And dairy.” “Wow. Just expose me.” Now that’s how you write a sibling relationship 😂 all while Luz is trying so hard to be so cool

The books come alive. They’re using the magic books and I am just waiting for this all to go south. Meanwhile, it’s storytime with Eda. I can’t imagine what kind of story she’s going to tell to a bunch of bat children

Yup. Called it. Going south. Also... this tough love approach? Yeah. I don’t like that. Not one bit.

Oh for god’s sake. Now this is really going to make Amity like her, isn’t it? Cue the misunderstanding trope, I suppose

“See you around cutie” *wink* *massive ass blush* again... interesting. I’m wondering if the creators actually had the gall to make a canon bisexual character. It’d be really nice to see more queer representation aimed at kids, honestly.

Aw... that giggle was so sweet. And Luz’s big ol’ smile afterwards was adorable too.

And now we get to see Amity being Luz’s hero in return. Very nice.

Oh hey! There’s a good extension of an olive branch! It’s was very endearing of Luz to lend her something so important to her.

Oh gosh. Poor Hooty 😂

[glassprism]

Are there certain aspects of the phandom, or interpretations of the show that you a bit repetitive or even annoying? I understand it, but I find it kinda reductive when people say 'the show is about Christine's PURITY and X represents SEX with Y showing...' etcetc, like there's nothing to her character except her virtue, and I know Gillian Lynne said stuff along those lines but still..., Another one for me is a Christine's hair colour like yeah it's interesting but um ok. (Also Rierra ughstoppp)

Oh, I feel you on the whole “sex vs. chastity” interpretation. It is a theme and does underlie part of Christine’s conflict, but sometimes people act like it’s the only theme running through the story, and that’s when you get weird-ass opinions like this. Nope, nothing about Christine growing by letting go of her grief, nothing about the Phantom’s redemption, it’s just sex and passion, that’s all a woman’s growth is all about.

The “blonde vs. brunette!” debate is also so old; I enjoy examining the various shades Christine actresses get as a whole, but I got sick of it come the Stockholm revival, where all anyone talked about was Emmi Christensson’s wig change. It gets especially galling when people use it as the sole indicator of whether an adaptation is more accurate to Leroux’s novel, and yes, I have seen that, I have seen people claim the 1990 miniseries with Charles Dance is closer to Leroux because Christine is blonde, which is like... what. There’s more to book accuracy than a character’s hair color!

Random misconceptions are sometimes tedious, things like Christine’s age (no, she is not 16 except in the 2004 movie and a poor translation of the novel), what “slave of fashion” means (it does not mean you are into fashion), that ALW chooses every cast member of every production ever (he does not), Christine and the Phantom had sex sometime during the original show (NO).

This is more in regards to the phandom on social media other than Tumblr or Discord (ahem, Facebook), but boy am I sick of the “Raoul vs. Erik” debates. I’m so tired of people constantly pitting and contrasting them to each other. You know what’s a really fascinating area of study? Finding their similarities. Ooh... but it’s mainly because, come on, people have been arguing over this for literal decades, both sides are quite chill with each other because they know they’ll never agree, stop asking which “team” you are on, I am begging you. One day you’ll see me snap and go running in the streets, Homer Simpson-style, shouting, “Erik and Raoul are the same person! It’s a conspiracy, people!”

I’m so tired of people pulling out the same old anti-Raoul arguments. “He didn’t notice Christine until she was in the spotlight!” (So? I’ve literally walked past my best friend because I didn’t expect her to be there and wasn’t looking for her.) “He didn’t believe Christine!” (I love Christine but she was hysterical and talking about a ghost, of course he wouldn’t.) “He forced her to be bait!” (He was in a sucky situation, doing the best that he can.) “He was gaslighting her!” (Not. The definition. Of gaslighting.) I’ve literally read people saying that Raoul was marrying Christine so he could be rich and famous, and I was boggled that people would have such a poor grasp of social class in the 1800s. (Y���all, Raoul is a vicomte and patron of the opera house, he’s already rich. And marrying Christine is marrying down, she’s not a frigging pop star.)

And this is probably because I have a YouTube account and upload videos of other casts, but it does get tiring to see people compared (often poorly) to Ramin Karimloo and Sierra Boggess. It’s annoying if people do it using some of the other “Big Four” casts (Michael Crawford and Sarah Brightman, Gerard Butler and Emmy Rossum, Ben Lewis and Anna O’Byrne, though they’re to a much lesser extent), but the comparisons to Karimloo and Boggess seem to be most frequent right now. Heck, I don’t care if people prefer them, so long as it looks like they at least gave a different cast a shot (e.g. “Ramin will always be my top, but David Thaxton really brings a different element to the role”), but more than once I’ve seen someone hop onto a video and just go, “Yup, this just proves Ramin is the top, bye!” and I’m left wondering, “Why did you watch this. Did you really click on the video willing to give another cast a chance, or did you go there solely with the attitude that so-and-so is the best and will never, ever be beaten?”

EDIT: Just remembered this one - no, a new proshot is not going to come out. It’s not going to come out just because you love that cast so, so much and think they’re oh-so-deserving of a filmed version. It’s not going to make enough money to justify the cost, no matter how big you think the phandom is.

Also, some things that seem to always pop up: yes, I know Ramin Karimloo played Christine’s father in the 2004 film. Yes, I know he’s the only one to play all three of “Christine’s loves”, ooh how special for him. Yes, I’ve seen that video of Nick Pitera. I’ve seen that video of Lindsay Stirling.

Ah, those are the major ones for now; it’s pretty dependent on the “mood” the phandom feels (like right now the last one is pretty prevalent because the 25th anniversary concert was streamed a few weeks ago, but it always dies down). Makes me realize how long I’ve been here... the things I’ve seen...

[hopelessromanticspoonie]

The Flour Follies (one shot)

Characters: Loki x Reader

Genre: Pure, unadulterated fluff

Rating: PG-13, some kissing and a bit of innuendo

Summary: When you are left behind from the latest Avengers mission, you turn to cooking to ease your anxieties, but the God of Mischief can’t help but get in the way.

A/N: This is for @babylevines​ 4k writing challenge! Congrats on so many followers! My prompt was: “You can’t be mean, because I cook the food… and I could technically poison you.”

“Ow! God that hurt!”

It was oddly quiet in the Compound, despite your cursing. The majority of the team had left on a mission, leaving you and Loki behind. Untested and untrusted, both of you. You weren’t ‘ready’ for it yet, and Loki hadn’t fully proven himself to be trustworthy in perilous situations. He probably never would, even though he had been living here for almost a year without incident. Well, serious incident. 

One can’t fault the God of Mischief for pulling a few harmless pranks - although his definition of harmless and that of everyone else may differ slightly. The time that he switched out the dummy training weapons for real ones hadn’t caused any harm, but that was only because Nat had seen the glint of sharpened steel just before she embedded it in Sam’s side.

You absolutely hated it when they left you behind. You’d only been part of the team for a few months, but you were still itching to go out and help your coworkers - and let’s be honest, friends - take on the big bad guys. Staying behind just made you anxious. It wasn’t productive to just sit around and wait for them to return, turning over more and more gruesome scenarios in your mind for the myriad of ways that they could get injured.

One thing that always worked to keep your mind and body busy was cooking. It was hard to consider gruesome ends to the lives of your friends when you had to keep the exact steps or measurements of a recipe at the forefront of your thoughts. Plus, everybody liked to come home from a long day of work to delicious food waiting for them, and it was a small thrill to have actual Superheroes compliment your cooking. So, while they sped away to fight crime or save the world or something else equally heroic, you toiled in the kitchen, intent on vanquishing their hunger as effectively as they did their enemies.

Well, judging by your cursing, it was a little less effective.

You pulled your fingertip into your mouth, giving the slow cooker a glare for having the gall to burn you. With your free hand, you, carefully, layered in the roast you had purchased, along with plenty of potatoes and carrots around and on top of it.

“You summoned me?” A velvety voice that you knew all too well called from behind you.

Pulling your finger from your mouth, you rolled your eyes and poured the broth that had been waiting beside the slow cooker inside of it. “You are not the only god, Loki.”

“But I’m the only one that matters.” You could practically hear the arrogant smirk that accompanied the words.

“What are you doing?” he asked, silently coming up beside you, peering at your work. He wouldn’t see much, as you’d already put on the lid and that had fogged up considerably, but he could still pretend that he was looking at something.

“Making food, smart one,” you explained bluntly, rolling your eyes.

Suddenly two arms clasped the counter on either side of you, boxing you in. You turned around and crossed your arms over your chest, an impressive feat considering how close he was to you.

“You know better than to insult me, mortal,” he rumbled, voice deep as he glared down at you.

“Oh shove off, Loki. I gotta make cookies.” You uncrossed your arms to push on his chest lightly, knowing that putting any force behind the gesture was useless. Super strength was not one of your abilities, so the only way to get him to back off was of his own volition.

He did his best to look menacing, but the predatory gleam in his eyes was lessened by the uptick of the corners of his lips. “We are all alone on this floor. I could do whatever I wished with you and no one would be any wiser. Your powers are no match for mine.”

“Whatever you wished with me?” You winked, shimmying your shoulders in an overdramatic seductive manner. 

With the quirk of your brow, you accepted his unspoken challenge and ducked underneath his arms faster than he could move them to compensate. You darted to the fridge before turning to stick your tongue at him. He was fast, but you were faster. “You were saying?”

He stalked toward you, head tilted forward and emerald eyes watching you from beneath sooty lashes, but you slipped behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. “I’m sorry. Were you being threatening? I’ll stand still.”

Loki’s hand reached out to snag your wrist as he whipped around, firm enough to hold you to the spot but not enough to bruise. “You are playing with fire, Y/N.”

You just smiled innocently up at him. In all the time you’ve spent here and interacted with Loki, he had made countless threats against you. It wasn’t a new vocation for him. But he had never acted upon any of them, and you firmly believed that he never would. No matter how much you pushed his buttons. And, oh, his buttons were fun to push. 

“Oh, I thought I was playing with a god. My mistake.” Not your best line, but it earned you the tightening of the skin around his eyes nonetheless.

“Do not disrespect me. You will regret it,” he threatened, towering over you, his nose inches away from yours as he tried to use your significant height difference to his advantage.

You didn’t cower, instead choosing to puff out your chest and return his sinister expression. “You can’t be mean, because I cook the food… and I could technically poison you.”

He tilted his head to the side, an arrogant smirk spreading across his pale, elegant features as he released you. “Your Midgardian poisons would do nothing to me.”

You went to the fridge and pulled out butter and eggs, setting them carefully on the nearest counter. You felt his eyes on you as you went to grab the flour from the pantry, and with your back to him, you quickly dipped your hand into the bag to grab a small handful of the fine powder. “Wanna find out?”

He hissed your name in warning and you just knew that he was coming up behind you. So predictable. When his long fingers clasped over your hip and flipped you around to face him, you didn’t resist the movement and used the momentum to take your handful of flour and slap it onto the smooth, soft material of his black button-down shirt.

His face contorted in shock, his jaw dropping and eyes wide. You burst out into laughter. It was too rich to see the pretentious god covered in flour, his typical black wardrobe highlighting the mess too perfectly.

“Oops!”

An impish smile tugged on his lips, and his eyes flicked behind you. Before you could consider the possible reasons for the mischief glinting in his gaze, the entire bag of flour was dumped onto your head, thanks to his magic. You sputtered in his satisfied face. After a stunned moment, the absurdity of the two of you standing there covered in flour bubbled up from within you and you gave in to it, laughing boisterously. Head thrown back, mouth wide open, eyes closed, and absolutely covered in flour you were sure that you looked like some wild thing, but you didn’t care. 

“Serves you right, wicked woman,” he teased, circling his arms around your waist, pulling you firmly against his chest.

You ruffled your hands through your hair, sending flour flying over the both of you. Flour dusted both of you more thoroughly for your efforts. It clung to his sharp jawline and lightened his dark eyebrows and hair. The effect was almost ghostly when partnered with the lightness of his skin. But the warmth in his eyes still sent your heart skittering as he gazed down at you as your laughter died down. That look, of pure happiness and adoration, was for you alone.

It was difficult to manage when he was so adorably disheveled - he’d have a fit if he knew you thought that about him - but you looked up to him with a false look of frustration on your face. You knew he didn’t buy it, you couldn’t stop the smile that parted your white-powdered lips as you rested your hands on his chest, but it was still fun to pretend. “Now how am I supposed to make cookies?”

He dipped his head to capture your lips in his, tasting of flour and coffee, his soft lips working against yours with practiced motions that you had perfected over the last few weeks. His fingers rubbed against your back pleasantly, making sure to send warm tingles through you and steal your breath away.

Having enthusiastically silenced you, he pulled away and smiled at your dazed expression as his nose nudged yours. “Forget about the cookies, pet.”

His insistence reminded you of your own mission, and you actually pouted. Somehow still able to focus on your task despite the handsome man gazing down at you, you thumped your hands against his chest lightly. Small white puffs of flour scattered into the air with each light hit. “But I promised Sam I’d make him my famous chocolate chip cookies. They’re irresistible.”

His hands tugged on your hips until they met his, and he brushed his lips along the soft skin of your neck. “I can think of another thing that’s irresistible.”

“You’re incorrigible,” you murmured, pushing against his chest lightly. “But I really need to get these made, so if you could unhand me…”

He relented with a heavy sigh, dropping his head to your shoulder. “Love.”

“Order more flour for delivery, and then we’ll talk,” you haggled, running your floured hands through his black hair, making an absolute mess of it.

A pleased hum vibrated out from his chest, and he lifted his head to press a kiss to your forehead, pulling away with a frown from the bitter taste of the raw flour on your skin. “You bargain with me?”

“Yup,” you replied, your lips popping the last syllable loudly between the two of you. You slipped out of his hold to gather the rest of the ingredients that you could find, leaving a cloud of flour in your wake.

When you finally stopped moving about, stationed in front of the stand mixer with the ingredients laid out before you, you turned your head to watch Loki over your shoulder with a quirked brow and a small smile on your lips.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., order more flour for the accursed cookies,” he commanded, staring at you as if you were a glass of water and he was stranded in the desert.

Your laughter echoed throughout the empty room as he lifted you over his shoulder and carried you away from the disaster of a kitchen.

“I believe that a shower is in order. Wouldn’t want to have errant flour falling into the recipe and ruin the whole batch of irresistible cookies.”

[babbushka]

Two Doves (5/6)

Drafted into a war he didn’t want to fight, Flip Zimmerman comes home to a country that doesn’t want him. With your help, he works through it all.

Word Count: 3.8k ; Warnings: NSFW, angst 

                                                            -----------

They sent me 

and my friends 

and my generation 

To Vietnam to die 

and some of us did. 

The rest of us have been dying 

in bits and pieces 

since the first day they sent us 

home. 

- Unknown

The rest of the day is spent together in peace. Or at the very least, as close as he can get to it, like this.

He was gone, he knows. He knows he was gone. But you were still here, and life still had to go on. Dishes needed to be washed, dinner needed to be cooked, bills needed to be paid.

God, if there was one thing he had been terrified about, it was the bills. Flip spent exactly five minutes staring at the checkbook trying to make sense of the figures from the past two years, was thankful for your good bookkeeping. He was relieved to know that finances weren’t an issue, even after all this time. Between your joint-savings, his salary from the station, and the monthly allotment Flip had the military send out of his own pay – what the fuck did he need any cash for over there? – things were good. He was glad for it, he had had nightmares of you ripping your hair out trying to make things work, struggling for groceries. But by the looks of it, he could put that fear to bed. Things were good.

And they were good, they were. He tells himself over and over, tries to convince himself that they were good as he sticks right by your side, as he kisses your cheek on the patio in the backyard. You both talk and talk about nothing, about everything, the easy things anyway. You laugh at his jokes and he smokes his cigarette, chain-smokes them because he can. He finally fucking can.

He still shakes now and again, thinking of the sound of your scream, the way you called for him, only for him, earlier in the day. He’d never heard you scream in such panic like that before, didn’t know what came over him to beat the fuck out of that man, out of that sick sonofabitch who had the gall to slap you like that. He saw red, and he couldn’t stop apologizing, even though he wasn’t sorry he hit him. He was only sorry you had to see it.

Your mouth is fine now, a little bruised, but not bleeding. You’re not concerned about it, seemingly not concerned about anything now that he’s home, now that he’s back, and he admires the way you can do that, the way you can just not worry. It’ll heal up in a day or so, you keep telling him, but he can’t stop looking at it, at the dark splotch, the mark that mars your beautiful face. He can’t stop looking at your face. He never wants to.

It’s late in the afternoon, or maybe early in the evening? He doesn’t know. But the sun is just barely beginning to set, and you’re both still outside.

He bought you a new washer and dryer set right before he left, a parting gift to try and make your life easier. He had always helped with the laundry, always did it for you. Washed, dried, folded, set onto hangers, sorted by color and type, just the way you liked. You did so much around the house, the least he could do was the laundry. He always did the laundry and then all of a sudden he didn’t do any at all. Wasn’t there, wasn’t able to. So he bought the washer and the dryer in some small attempt to make it easier. A fancy new Maytag in a shiny olive green that matched the laundry room.

But some things couldn’t go in the dryer, some things would be destroyed if they went into the fancy new olive green Maytag, so they went out on the line instead, hung up outside in the backyard where the sun could warm the fabric and evaporate all the clean soapy water, could bleach the whites of the sheets, could air out wrinkles.

The sun is a smoldering red as it sets, the sky cast into shades of purples and pinks as the mountains go black when the sun dips behind them, and Flip can’t stop looking at you, can’t stop feeling lucky. He thinks you look like a movie star, the way you walk between those sheets, the way they flutter in the evening breeze, the way that same breeze kicks up your hair just a little. You’re singing a song, some old tune from when the two of you had just started dating. He knows the melody but can’t sing along, his voice not nearly as beautiful as yours, doesn’t want to do a disservice to the song by croaking it out.

He trails you, follows you close behind, right on your heel, as you reach up and unclip the clothespins, store them in your pocket as you move down the line. He follows you round and round, holds his arms out for you to drape the sheets across them so they don’t get wrinkled, and he folds them, places them in the laundry basket only a few feet away.

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

He helps you, wanting to make up for two years of being away, two years of being gone and leaving you all alone. He knows Jimmy helped, he knows that. But it’s not the same. He missed doing this with you, missed bumping his hip against yours, missed tugging on your hair, pinching your nose.

He helps you now, and you blush.

“Thank you, katchkaleh.” You say with a fond smile, a beautiful bruised fond smile, and Flip’s heart wants to burst out of his chest with love, adoration, worship, devotion to you.

It’s been so long since he’s heard his mother tongue, been so long since the soft sweet words had washed over his ears. Sometimes you slip into it when you spoke to him on the tapes, but it’s another thing altogether, another thing entirely to hear it straight from your lips, straight into his ears, his heart.

“Anything for you, ketsl.” He says back, and you beam, and pluck the cigarette out from between his lips and you kiss him, and he kisses you back with his arm full of sheets, and when you sigh happily against his lips he thinks – he knows – he can weather whatever storm.

The sun sinks and sinks and the purples and pinks give way to deep blues and blacks, stars coming up out of hiding.

“Which ones are they?” You ask, casting your gaze skyward for a moment.

Flip blinks back tears, because you did this sometimes when you knew he needed it, when you knew he needed something small to latch on to, to feel like he was the only person who had this knowledge, to feel important, needed. You knew which constellations they were, of course you did, he tells you all the time, points them out and traces them with his fingers, as if you could see the imaginary lines he uses to connect the bright dots.

Flip sets the last of the sheets down in the basket, all but one, which he unfolds and lays out on the warm grass of the backyard, lays it out full and wrinkle free, sits down on it. You immediately sit down next to him, and the two of you lay back against it, soft and clean and fresh. You pull him against your chest, both looking up, both looking to the skies. He breathes out smoke lazily through his nose, watches as it disappears into the soft blue of twilight.

“That one’s the North star,” He points, to the bright Polaris, thinks about how it kept him company overseas, thinks about how if nothing else, that star was steady, always shining in the night, shining for him. “And those are the dippers, but really it’s Ursa Major and Minor.”

“And those?” You ask, one hand carding through his hair, the other propped up underneath your head, a makeshift pillow as you shift further into the mild mattress the grass has become for you, underneath the sheet.

“Cassiopeia and Cepheus.” Flip replies easily, sucking in the nicotine and letting it flood his system, his nerves. God there was nothing like a pack of fuckin’ camels, he thinks to himself, nothin’ like the feeling of smoking with your heartbeat right near his ear.

11, 12, 13, 14…

He counts and counts and taps out your pulse on his stomach, smokes and counts and taps for a long while, until he finally exhales once again and points out, “That one’s Draco.”

“Which one do you like the most?” You ask quietly, fondly. You always ask him, and every time it’s the same answer.

“You, (Y/N).” He says, and the way he says your name has your throat tick just from the wetness of tears that’ve slid back there.

“Me?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper, almost lost in the sound of the crickets, the sound of the mountains.

“Yup.” He says, the red tip of his cigarette glowing, “Always you.”

And when he cranes his neck around to look at you, he sees the stars reflect in your beautiful big eyes, the way your pupils are large from the dark of the world, and he smiles. He rolls over, cages your body in his, his big arms on either side of your head as he lowers himself down just enough to kiss you, to hover his lips above yours. You stretch up to meet them, pluck the camel out of his mouth and pinch the end to put it out, and in the dark you smile back, smile right against his mouth as you kiss.

The two of you stay like that, the June air hot and sticky, even at night, even so close to the mountains. Both your eyes are closed but you can still see each other, pictures bright and clear in your minds, melting in to one another. Around you, the soft buzzing and fluttering of fireflies sound.

You keep kissing one another, slow slick slides of your tongues against one another. You’re not hurried now, not in this moment. It’s starting to settle in, Flip thinks, starting to settle into his chest that he has you, that he has all the time in the world now that he’s home. He doesn’t need to rush you now.

You let your legs fall open anyway, let him get more settled atop you, your hands slowly, lazily, drifting down to his belt, undoing the clasp there, undoing his zipper and pushing his jeans down far enough that you can stick your hands in his underwear.

His mouth falls open with a low groan against yours, and you huff out a pleased little laugh at how hard he is for you, always is for you. He drools into your mouth for a split second and feels gross for it, but you only swallow him down and give his cock a full heady stroke and he’s keening for you.

“Fuck,” He grunts out, and you only grin, something warm and playful and so so so in love.

“Please?” You ask, stroking him off, making him buck into your hands slowly, carefully.

“Fuck,” He says again, and though this time it’s altogether differently, it still makes you smile.

He rucks up your skirt and rips your underwear in two, the scrap of fabric bunched up and tossed to the side to be dealt with later. He doesn’t spare a glance away from your face to look at your pussy but he knows it’s wet for him, glistening in the moonlight. He knows because he can feel it when he lets a couple fingers drop down, slide and crook inside your hot cunt, getting you ready for him.

You let out a quiet gasp, a pleased sigh, as he pumps one, two, three fingers in and out of you, stretching you comfortably, blunt nails scraping lightly against your walls, searching for your g-spot. He drinks in the moans you let out for him when he finds it, when he rubs small circles around it, your legs twitching and alternating between falling flat onto the sheet or clenching tightly around his waist.

He studies your face, really studies it, obsessed with the sight of your pleasure, how it’s written all across your features. His eyes have adjusted completely to the low-light of evening, although the fireflies give him some fleeting illumination every now and again.

“I missed this so fucking much.” You cry, because you can’t help it, you just can’t. It’s all so good, so soft and sweet when he pulls out his fingers and licks them clean, lines up his hard dick and pushes it into you in the wake of those deft hands.

“Me too – oh.” He can’t help but drop his face into your neck, your shoulder, kiss and suck the skin there.

He wriggles his hips as close to yours as much as he possibly can. He’s bottomed out entirely inside you, and he knows he’s never going to get tired of this feeling, never. He feels drunk again, or high, or maybe both, he doesn’t know. But it’s not the crazy kind, it’s the syrupy sweet kind, the kind where everything is in slow motion. You’re a beautiful blur beneath him, and he struggles to keep his eyes open, to soak you all in.

“How did you do it? How did you get through those two years away? It was bad enough being here alone, but you – god harder? – you must have been so fucking scared.” You bite at your lip, at his lips, suck and kiss as he starts to thrust in earnest.

“I thought of you.” He confesses, hot tears threatening again, stinging, but not in that awful fucking way of the bad memories, this is a sweet kind of cry. He doesn’t know if that makes sense, but it’s true, everything with you is always just so true. “I only ever thought of you.”

“I stopped taking the pill.” You tell him, and he does cry then, he does, lets them spill onto your cheek and neck as he moves harder against you, holds your thigh with one hand, savors the feeling of your pussy wrapped around his cock, bare, no condom.

“You – you want…?” He can’t even ask, can’t even dare to hope, to dream, can’t the words out that are stuck in his chest like everything else, all the other feelings he’s got clawing up his throat.

But you’re nodding, and clinging to him, and he can’t help but kiss you, can’t help but plant a big smacking kiss to your mouth as he pushes into you harder and harder, up and up and up the soft white sheet on the grass.

“I do. It’s all I kept thinking about when you were gone. How when you came back, I wanted to grow our family, have some baby Zimmermans, have them run around in this yard, catch these fireflies. I want them, I want us to have them.” You say, tuck some of his hair carefully back behind his ears, as his hips roll against yours, his cock hard, throbbing inside your cunt.

Something about the conviction you have when you say that, when he came back, not if. When. You believed in him so much, he gasps for it – or maybe he gasps for the way you clench around him, press your hips up to meet him thrust for thrust. He doesn’t know, doesn’t think it matters. He loves you for all of it.

He fucks you hard, but somehow still sweet, and then suddenly he’s coming, and he feels so guilty because he didn’t get you off first, but you’re chuckling, just combing back his hair, thighs trembling, nipples hard against his lips where he mouths at them. He fucks you through it even as the stars and fireflies explode behind his eyelids, wants to get you close too. He bites and laves his tongue over your nipples as he fucks you, drops a hand to your clit and rolls it between his calloused fingers, and then you’re coming too, with a loud moan that carries and echoes across the yard, into the mountains, into the sky.

And then, he’s sobbing. Inexplicably, hysterically crying, tears for an altogether different reason, so full of emotion he doesn’t know how to let it out, so it comes out like this.

“You want me, you want this.” He beams, just absolutely fucking beaming at you, and you grin right back at him, clasp your hands on his cheeks and tug him down by those big ears of his, kiss him hard.

“Never wanted anything more.” You confess, holding him tight, until those tears turn to laughs, pure unadulterated joy, radiating out of the both of you.

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

Later, closer to midnight, after two mugs of hot chocolate have been downed and whipped cream has been sprayed directly into each other’s mouths, the two of you sit on the couch, curled up, feet tucked up under one another.

You look nervous, look anxious about something, and Flip frowns, pinches your nose.“What’s wrong?” He asks, trying not to panic. He doesn’t like when you look like that, never has, never will.

But you just chew the inside of your cheek, your hand tightens in his grasp, and you grow uncharacteristically shy.

“Will you dance with me?” You ask softly, embarrassed. “Please, it’s been so long.”

He’s up in an instant, in an absolute second, already over to the record collection, already rifling through them for something soft and slow, something romantic, something he can hold you close to.

“Don’t ever ask twice, you know I will, I always will.” He says, when he finds it, when he finds the perfect thing, when he sticks it on the record player, lets the scratchy fuzzy vinyl crackle to life.

It’s a slow song from the 50s, Flip can’t remember which year exactly, but it was one of your favorites to dance to when the two of you started dating, and it always made your smile a little softer, eyes a little sweeter, and the tension leaves your shoulders when you stand up from the couch and take his hand.

You’ve both changed into your robes and slippers, and Flip revels in the domestic bliss of it all. Your head and hand resting on his chest from where he towers above you in height, his hand in yours, his other caressing the small of your back. You step round and around, letting the music wash over you with eyes closed. It was a song you sent him a cassette tape of, all that time ago, and he thinks about how different it is now, how much more he really truly means the words that Perry Como croons, how much more you meant them too.

 Someone lights up my heart like the sun,

And that someone is you, please believe me.

You're my starlight when daytime is done

My darling, please darling, believe me.

 You're the smile on my lips when I wake,

You're a faith that I'll never forsake!

No one loves with a love that I bring you

Please believe me, believe me please do.

 You're the smile on my lips when I wake,

You're a faith that I'll never forsake!

No one loves with a love that I bring you

Please believe me, believe me please do.

 The words aren’t lost on you, not one bit. Flip’s music choice has always been so sentimental, always. You know every poem, every song you’ve sent him over those two years, and when the song is over, the two of you listen to the crackling of the vinyl, empty space filled up with the warm fuzziness of a bygone era.

“Can I look at the mail?” He asks randomly when record player officially runs out of track to play, goes over to it and clicks it off. You nod, smile as you hand him the stack from the mailbox.

There’s something so comforting about the familiarity of it all. The newsletters, the catalogs, the ads.

“What’s this?” He asks, looking at the small envelope addressed to him, with the Colorado return address.

It’s not a handwriting he’s familiar with, and he’s always been pretty good about recognizing shit like that, but it’s definitely handwritten, not some piece of junk mail.

“Remember I told you something came for you.” You said, pulling him back to the couch. “I have other mail for you too, I’ve been saving it. Didn’t want to open it, since it’s yours.” You explain, and he smiles, thinks about the little stack that must’ve accrued. Thinks about the way you’re so careful with his things, always have been, always respected his privacy like that.

“Will you open this one? I can’t see straight I’m so tired.” He hands the letter to you and you happily run your finger through the top, tear open the paper.

“Sure thing honey.” You say, unfolding the letter, “It’s from a Mrs. Costell.”

“Eric’s mom?” Flip perks up for half a second.

He wonders how she got his address, if Eric had given it to her. He hadn’t had time, hadn’t had a moment to think about him since he came home, hadn’t had a moment to really sit down and think about anything. His heart beat a little faster, wondering if Eric got home safely, if his mom was reaching out to arrange a get-together.

But then, why wouldn’t Eric just write it?

“Oh…oh my god.” You whisper, and he’s already shaking his head, already balling his hands into fists which clench and shake, “I’m so sorry.”

“No.” He stands up, paces the room, the living room floor, the emptiness, the silence of the night too loud, so loud, and suddenly he’s back in the war, suddenly that silence is dangerous, and he breaks it only with another, agonized, terrified, “No.”

“Phil, Phil I’m so sorry.” You cry, your chin pinching, and he shakes his head, his hands, his body, he’s trembling, all over, when he extends a hand for you, for the letter, he doesn’t know which.

He knows, it’s you, it’s always you, but you also have the letter, and he needs to know, needs to see it for himself. He knows you’d never lie about something like this, but still. He needs to see it.

“Let me read it.” He says, and you carefully approach him, big wet eyes, and you bury yourself into his chest.

And suddenly his heart is beating fast for another reason, as he looks at your face, stomach sinking, a thick heavy steel weight sinking sinking sinking like the sun behind the mountains, when you cover your mouth in shock and grief, when your eyes close in despair.

And all you can do is say you’re sorry, sorry sorry sorry, as if you’re somehow responsible for this, as if somehow you’re to blame.

You’re not, of course you’re not, but your heart hurts just the same, and when Flip unfolds the slip of paper, lines and ink smudged with the tears of a broken-hearted mother, Flip can’t help but feel blame too.

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

Only one chapter left to go! Tagging some pals, as always please let me know if you’d like to be added to or taken off the taglist <3  @dreamboatdriver​ @kylo-renne​ @callmehopeless​ @kyloxfem​ @formerly-anonhamster​ @thepilotanon​ @solotriplets​   @fullofbees​ @spinebarrel​ @bourbonboredom​ @driverficarchive​ @rosalynbair​ @redhairedfeistynerd​ @glitzescape​ @adamsnacc-kler​  @ladygrey03​ @venusianmaiden​ marvelous-blog-221 @edwardseyelashes​ @softcrybabykid​ @tinyplanet-explorers​ 

[lady-divine-writes]

Klaine Advent One-shot: The Hallmark of a New Christmas Tradition (Rated PG13)

Summary: With their plans canceled and a cherished Christmas tradition persona non grata, Kurt and Blaine come up with a new tradition - writing and starring in their own Hallmark-style movie. (1305 words)

Notes: Written for the Glee Potluck Big Bang prompt 'Hallmark' and the Klaine Advent 2019 prompt 'tradition'. Also, I'm embarrassed at how quickly it took to write this XD

Read on AO3.

“Ugh! Hallmark!” Kurt groans, closing his browser and tossing his phone across the sofa in disgust. “You disappoint me.”

“I take it you heard about the Zola thing, too, huh?” Blaine asks, retrieving the discarded phone and dropping on a cushion beside his husband.

“Yup.” Kurt snags his phone back, but only as an excuse to grab his husband’s leg and yank it over his lap. “Well, good riddance to bad rubbish.”

“Rubbish? I thought you loved Hallmark movies!”

“Sort of.” Kurt shrugs. “It’s complicated.”

“Complicated?” Blaine snorts. “It’s Hallmark.”

“Yes, but it’s formulaic! And that formula is repetitive … and kind of sexist. It’s something you have to be in the mood for.” Kurt shifts in his seat to better face his husband. “When you put on a Hallmark movie, you know what you’re going to get – successful woman with no time for family or holiday nonsense gets pulled away from an extremely important career-making decision to travel, last minute, to the small town where she grew up and care for her ailing ma/pa/grandma who raised her or whatever, and discovers the true meaning of Christmas in the arms of a rugged lumberjack who spends the first three-quarters of their so-called relationship making fun of her life decisions even though, in the grand scheme of things, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with them, besides maybe the fact that she’s going to be thirty in a few years, le gasp!, and she has yet to pop out any kids.”

Blaine’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise when Kurt finally takes a breath. “Wow. You gave that no thought at all, did you?”

“Don’t have to. Think about it. They never change.”

Blaine’s eyes roll up as he tries to recall the plot of the last few Hallmark movies they watched. He finds himself nodding without even meaning to, his husband’s point proven. “I see what you mean.”

“Plus, no LGBTQ couples ever. At all. Not even in the background.”

“That is a shame,” Blaine agrees, eyes focused on the phone in Kurt’s hands, up to his face, then over his shoulder to the window beyond, where a steady stream of snow has been falling all morning, gathering on the panes and obscuring their view. According to the news, it’s piling up fast, which pretty much 86’d the plans they’d made to visit a bed and breakfast upstate. They’d changed back into their pajamas and opted for their fallback tradition – watching Hallmark movies. But without even asking, he knows that’s out.

Blaine grins. He’d been bummed about their circumstances before, but now he sees an opportunity. The phone, the snow, this whole conversation has given Blaine a stellar idea.

“Seeing as we’re snowed in for the weekend, maybe we can try our hands at making our own Hallmark movie! You and I can star in it!”

Kurt’s right brow arches sharply. “Are you serious? Or is this some veiled excuse to make a cornier-than-normal sex tape?”

“I’m serious! We used to do something similar back in high school! Remember?”

“Normally I try to forget high school, but yes. I remember.”

“Great!” Blaine says, genuinely excited. “Let’s start! Open up your notepad and let’s come up with a script.”

Kurt stares at his husband open-mouthed for a second, but since Blaine honestly looks like he wants to do this, he unlocks his screen and opens his notepad. “All right. Well, casting this thing shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“Why not?”

“For one thing, I work for Vogue, so I get to be the career woman protagonist.”

“Plus you have a dad with a history of health problems …”

“No!” Kurt snaps, less than playfully. “We’re not including that. It’s bad juju.”

Blaine puts up both hands in surrender. Burt’s health has always been a sore spot with Kurt, even now when the man is certifiably fit as a fiddle. But Blaine can understand his fear – even if it’s more superstitious than rational. No need to take unnecessary chances. “Fair enough.”

“We can make up a fictitious ailing grandmother?” Kurt suggests in a softer, apologetic tone.

“Or a pet.”

“Ooo, that’s good!” Kurt jots that down. “People get invested in pets more than people nowadays anyway!”

“I guess that makes me the jerkhole lumberjack,” Blaine says sadly, having not thought this completely through.

“No!” Kurt puts a hand on his husband’s shoulder and kneads comfortingly. “We’ll make you the … uh … cynical struggling musician with a heart of gold!”

Blaine’s eyes light up. “I like it. I like it a lot! And I’m not from the small town. I’m just passing through.”

“Ooo …” Kurt makes a note “… a mysterious stranger with a past. Okay. Now, I come home because my dog …”

“Cooper.”

“Cooper!” Kurt laughs. “Perfect! My dog Cooper …”

“A thirteen-year-old, blind, shaggy mutt with three legs and chronic gall stones …”

Kurt stops writing to take a gander at his bitter husband. “Uh … is there something you need to pause and work out here, or can we continue?”

“Oh!” Blaine yelps as if he may not have intended to say that all out loud. “No! Continue! By all means.”

Kurt shakes his head. “I come home because my dog Cooper needs emergency surgery. And my dad thinks it’s the perfect opportunity to convince me to move back home and work with him in his shop … despite the fact that my character makes close to seventy-five thousand dollars a year.”

“Where do I come in? Where do I come in?” Blaine asks, bouncing up and down like a toddler mainlining Pixie sticks.

“You showed up in town the week before. No home, no job, no money. And your car …”

“My Harley,” Blaine corrects with an eyebrow wiggle.

“Oh, yes, your Harley needs repairs. But you can’t afford them. So you’re going to work the bill off at my dad’s shop.”

“That sounds like something your dad would do.”

Kurt smiles fondly. “Yeah, it does. Bonding over beers at the only bar in town, he finds out you’re gay, and so he connives you into helping him. You know, using your masculine wiles.”

“He gets me to seduce you? In exchange for repairing my bike? So you’ll stay and work in his shop?”

“A-ha.”

Blaine frowns. “That sounds kind of sleazy.”

“Yes, but this isn’t real life. Remember? It’s Hallmark. And it’s right on brand.”

“Surprisingly, it is. What else?”

“But you’re a drifter. A nomad. You don’t want to put down roots, not until you’ve scored that big time record contract. And my dad doesn’t want that for me – going on the road with you. So the deal is as soon as you get me to agree to stay, quit my job and sell my penthouse, you’re going to break up with me and leave.”

“So your dad doesn’t really like me?”

“No, sweetheart!” Kurt takes Blaine’s hand, kissing away the sliver of hurt in his husband’s voice. “He does! And in the movie, he’ll come around.”

“All right.” Blaine kisses Kurt’s hand back, momentarily soothed. “If we’re going to act this out, where do we begin? Should I throw on some jeans and a flannel? Grab my guitar?”

“We just got back into our pajamas. And I don’t know about you, but I’m really cozy …” Kurt chews the inside of his cheek, mischief and a smile twitching his lips. “I say we jump ahead to the epic cookie baking montage.”

“Doesn’t that usually happen before the equally epic first kiss?”

“A-ha. Which leads to making out on the sofa. And then …”

“Sex tape?” Blaine meets Kurt’s mischievous grin with one of his own. Kurt flashes his phone screen Blaine’s way, the camera app already open with the perspective flipped so Blaine sees his own grinning face.

“You read my mind.”