#<-for the connection needs thing. if I’m clogging up the tag please tell me I don’t mean to do that

[faithfromanewperspective]

something I’ve recently realised and am only now learning to put words is that I need all this emotional intimacy for one of the reasons my brain is how it is: the whole being known, the whole connecting over shared experiences, the whole feeling like I’m part of something emotional intimacy preferably with people I’m in the same room as more often than not. I wonder if it’s because I need to see my own emotions on someone else to be sure that I exist, because it’s a form of co-regulation I’ve adapted to, because it shows something about who God is or something else—it doesn’t matter, but what matters is I need it to be able to do things like sleep without significant help and to process my emotions and be productive and creative and also to feel any sort of sexual or romantic attraction.

somewhere along the line, someone convinced me that the church is meant to provide these things. It was well intentioned and might have been indistinguishable from the call to said church to actually go about starting to do these things—but the thing is it’s all well and good in theory but while I’m not getting my needs met I can’t just sit around and wait, I tried that and my whole life got put on hold and I’m still learning how to get up and realise I can seize the day or whatever when there’s been this empty hollow inside of me for as long as I can remember. I also can’t be the one to build the kind of thing I want for myself: I’ve tried that to, overworking myself to volunteer just in order to get scraps of the connection I longed for. Had me burnt out and self destructive and very much certain that if I stepped away from the very things that were destroying me I’d have to go without even worse than I already was and I would die.

there comes a point where you just have to have radical acceptance. something so good in theory that white scholars who don’t realise what it’s like to go without something they need so badly have decided it should be and therefore we should act like the intention is enough. It’s not. you don’t get fit by intending to go to the gym and you don’t ask your partner out by intending to have that conversation and you don’t fix world hunger by intending to but then doing nothing about it. and it’s true people do nothing about it, because they’re steeped in a culture that values individualism and thinks you can only have intimacy with someone when you’re also having sex.

it’s a culture that’s deeply oppressive to aspec people. I’ve said so before. and I think what drew me in to the church on this particular broken promise was that it called out those things. seemed to get it. and in the end was no better than anyone else except for stigmatising things like sleeping in the same bed with someone you’re not married to until it became a weird thing to ask for, something that would likely involve romantic feelings coming up just because everyone is so starved for intimacy. we don’t know how to have it, don’t know how to be vulnerable, for the most part don’t even realise it’s a problem and I can point to exactly why.

most people don’t have it impact them as directly and as front and centre in their lives as I do, when I don’t know how to go on a second date because of it, and I can’t just sit there and ignore it, ignore how it’s taking us away from being able to love each other and even love God as a result if that’s something we’d like to pursue. shallow hearts for shallow minds or whatever (that ache to be alive but don’t know it, it’s been a while since I’ve quoted 5sos on main). but that’s the thing. someone else should’ve realised too and be feeling the impacts of it. there’s probably someone. and they’re scared and confused to speak up just like I am.

and no wonder, when it’s so hard to explain exactly why it hurt so much when we went through the exact same thing as everyone else, everyone inexplicably thriving in it or at least, not being so actively hurt by the culture we’re in every day. my body goes into fight or flight mode when it’s around another human, when all I’ve longed for is this connection but I can’t have intimacy when people simply invalidate my need for it just because they don’t have the same needs. when it’s hard to explain to a date that maybe I’ll be attracted to them someday but I need them to help me change the world first and I’m so lonely and my body wants to be horny but it just can’t. not without the necessary steps beforehand I’ve almost given up hope on.

this sounds like a pretty hopeless rant but I’ve got some semblance of a plan, which I came up while writing this like I always do—I figure I’m going to be homeless, church wise, and single until I find it but I’ve gotta go find people who feel like me, I’ve got no other viable choice. I need to have relationships with community and I need intimacy of some kind and in order for that to happen I need this part of myself to be seen, not be something too stigmatised to ever talk about. I can take that risk, socially, it’s well within something I’m capable of. and it’s going to be confusing at first: the way my sexuality is hinging on something so much bigger than I am, but a date is as good a time as any to bring it up, considering I’m a dexisexuality explained on first date kinda person anyway. and the right people will get it. I’m going to find them.

[thefanficmonster]

What's It To You?

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: To some people, relationship labels aren’t important. To some they aren’t important only in theory. Well, Y/N finds out she falls in the later category, leading to a falling out with her boyfriend Corpse.

Requested by Anon. You’ll know who you are when you read the fic 😉 Thank you for the ‘angsty argument’ request. I hope I captured what you had in mind and I hope you enjoy the read. Love, Vy 🥰

The time is nearing 7PM and Corpse has barely eaten anything. I always keep track of his meals and time spent in front of a computer screen, making sure he doesn’t spend too much time exhausting his eyes or starving himself. He never notices he’s hungry until he takes a bite of something and his appetite grows in  matter of seconds. The real battle is to get him to take that first bite.

I get up from the couch, walking into the kitchen. I open the fridge, scanning its contents for any ideas that might pop into my head for dinner. When nothing comes to mind, I resort to my last option - asking him. There’s only a slight chance he’ll be of any help. He’ll most likely say he’s not hungry or that he’ll make himself something late. He never does. I’ve gotten used to him being a man-child when it comes to eating. In the eleven months that we’ve been dating, I’ve force fed him more times than he has eaten on his own terms.

I go upstairs, stopping outside the door to his recording room to see if he’s talking to someone so I don’t walk in and interrupt. When no noises come from the inside I knock. 

“Come in.“ 

Upon opening the door, I’m met with Corpse nonchalantly sitting in his desk chair, leaning as back as he can without tipping over. Arms folded behind his head, legs stretched out in front of him. The whole nine yards, suggesting that he not streaming.

“Hey.“ He greets me as he turns his chair a bit in an attempt to face me

“Hey, what’d you like for dinner?“ He opens his mouth to reply the millisecond after I have spoken my question. I already know what that reply will be so I hurry to prevent it, “And no, ‘later’ and ‘I’m not hungry’ aren’t on the menu.“

He sighs, shaking his head as though he’s disappointed that I caught onto his game. The smile that slowly makes its way to his lips, however, suggests that he appreciates my concern. “Grilled cheese sandwiches? I mean, if you feel like it.”

I smile, relieved that the usual convincing portion of our interaction on this specific matter has been avoided. “Ok. Be down in fifteen then.” I give him a nod before heading back out into the hallway.

Before I am able to close the door, I hear someone else’s voice come from behind me. “Hey Corpse, was that on your end?”

Oh shit, he wasn’t muted

“Yeah man, sorry. Accidentally unmuted myself.“ Corpse sounds unbothered by this, but I am a little uneasy now.

Corpse and I have agreed to keep our relationship by a ‘won’t ask, won’t tell’ rule - if someone asks him if he’s in a relationship, he won’t lie and say no, but we haven’t gone public nor do we plan on doing so without someone asking us about it head-on. Well, not us. Him. His friends don’t know me and neither do his fans. I’m not in the same industry. I don’t stream nor film YouTube videos. The most I do for that platform is help Corpse with some editing when he needs to have a rest. So, if anyone were to reveal our relationship, it’d be him.

“Oooh, who was that?“ A girl’s voice asks teasingly. “Corpse, what are you not telling us?“

By this point, I’m out in the hall but I left my ears in the room. I know I’m not in the right here - eavesdropping is most definitely not nice, but I can’t help myself.

I hear him chuckle, “Nah, it’s just my friend Y/N.”

My heart drops so suddenly for a reason beyond my understanding. I feel like a kid feels when it’s told Santa isn’t real - I can’t believe what I heard. 

I hurry to get back downstairs as soon as possible and also as quietly as I can. It’s tough, running with a pit in your stomach and a knot of I’m pretty sure is tears in your throat. When I’m finally in the kitchen, the aforementioned tears are blurring my vision. I try to blink them away but accidentally send one of them trickling down my cheek.

I’m aware this might be an overreaction and if I stopped to think I could probably find ways to justify what Corpse said. But I’m genuinely hurt, and I hate that I am.

I’ve never cared about what others know about me or think of me. Same goes for my relationships. I don’t put labels on things nor on my connection to people. I am surprised and disturbed by how much the label ‘friends’ bothers me. We’ve been dating for almost a year now, you’d think calling me his girlfriend would be second nature. Guess not.

I swallow the hurt and surprise, deciding to keep myself busy with the preparations for the dinner I was planning to make. However, keeping my hands full and giving my eyes a place to look doesn’t stop my thoughts from eating away at me. 

                                                             * * *

Twenty minutes later the sound of a door opening echoes from upstairs, followed by the sound of footsteps going through the hallway and then down the stairs. 

“It smells so good in here.“ He comments, his eyebrows raising when he takes in the freshly made sandwiches on the kitchen island. “You’re the best, Y/N.“

“Hmm, aren’t you lucky you have a friend who knows their way around the kitchen, huh?“ I reply sharply, not even sparing him a glance.

In the twenty minutes I was left alone with my wilding thoughts I declared that I wouldn’t beat around bush when he comes downstairs. That I would address the issue and tell him exactly how I feel about it. What I didn’t plan was being so harsh. I actually barely contain a wince when I realize how sharp of an edge my words had.

I feel ten times more guilty when I see the regret that flashes on his face, “You heard that.” He grips the edges of the table, leaning down and letting out a sigh, “I’m sorry, I panicked.”

The anger in me evaporates, leaving room for the hurt to keep spreading and take over me. I was never really angry with him, I’m just upset by the fact that his immediate reaction wasn’t to refer to me as his girlfriend. 

“Why would you panic? What’s it to you if they know?“ My voice is barely above a whisper now, the tears I’m fighting back are clogging my throat, not allowing me to sound as clearly as I’d like.

“What’s it to you? I thought you didn’t care.“ He argues back, his gaze travelling from the tabletop to my eyes. I see the guilt in all his features and his body language.

“I thought so too.“ I shake my head, “But hearing you call me a ‘friend’...’just a friend’ stings. I don’t even know why, but it does. It feels almost like you are embarrassed of me. If that’s the case you can just tell me, you know?“

In a blink of an eye he’s crouched down in front of me, one hand holding both of mine while the other cups my cheek. “It’s not. It has never been and it will never be the case. You are one amazing person, Y/N. You deserve the world, not to be stuck with me. I’m just...” He trails off, his eyes not able to focus on mine any longer, “I’m scared of how people knowing about us will affect our relationship.”

My blood starts boiling again. I know I need to get away from him before I reach the point of saying something that’ll hurt him, so I untangle my hands from his grasp, pulling away from him. “Weak excuse, Corpse. You know it will change nothing except make me feel more included in your life. I will no longer feel like I’m a house rat no one knows about.” I stand up, unable to look at him, and start heading for the staircase. 

“Y/N, please! ”I stop dead in my tracks when he calls out my name, his footsteps following behind me. “Don’t be...-”

I turn around, cutting him off in the process, “I need to be alone right now.” I tilt my head in the direction of the dining table, “Sit down and eat dinner. We’ll talk...later.”

                                                             * * *

Now that it’s been almost twelve hours with no contact between us I realize that my reaction was justified only to a certain extent. I understand his concerns and I could’ve expressed mine a little more calmly and in a lot less accusatory manner. But what happened happened and all I can do now is go over to him and apologize, establish a proper communication to resolve the issue that I so stupidly blew out of proportion.

My phone died sometime during the night and has been sitting on the charger but still turned off for a while. I go over to it and press-hold the start button. While it’s powering up I start changing my from my pajamas into my regular clothes, noticing a small stain on my shirt in the process. As I’m examining the stain, my phone starts going crazy with notifications, causing me to jump and drop my shirt.

“Fucking hell.” I mumble, disconnecting my phone from the charger and looking at the huge list of notifications on my lock screen. They are all alerts of new followers, likes and tags, non from people I know. Non except one.

@ corpse_husband tagged you in a post 

Wait what?

I tap the notification which leads me to a picture Corpse posted two hours ago. It’s a picture of me taken in the living room without my knowledge. I’m an oversized sweater and yoga pants, my hair in a messy braid and my attention caught by the book in my hands. My glasses have slipped a bit down my nose, suggesting that I’m too concentrated on the contents of the pages in front of me that I haven’t noticed.

We started off as friends but it didn’t take long for her to become my best friend. And then she stole my heart. I know you’ll read this eventually, Y/N. So...hi. Love you. 

PS - the sandwiches were bomb 🖤

I’m more than caught off guard. Like a surprise hug from behind, warmth spreading all throughout my body. 

Without a second of hesitation I put my phone down and run to the bedroom door. However, I don’t make it very far considering I nearly run straight into Corpse’s chest as I exit the room. He catches me before I knock him straight to the ground, thankfully.

“Aren’t you a rocket this morning. Where are you headed?“ He chuckles, holding onto my upper arms.

One look at his smile, a single word out of his mouth and I’m melting. I walk straight into him, wrapping my arms around his torso, hiding my face in his chest. He comfortably rests his chin on the top of my head, not asking any further questions until I finally answer.

“Right here. I was heading for you.“ I whisper before I pull away enough to be able to look him in the eyes. “I wanted to tell you how sorry I am. I was being childish and overdramatic and I’m sorry about all I said. I was really upset.“

“It’s ok, baby. I’m sorry for making you upset in the first place. I understand now how much it means to you.“ He caresses my cheekbone with the back of his hand. “I...um...tried to make things right by...“

I push up on my toes, pressing my lips against his, putting an end to his timid stuttering. “I saw it.” I mumble in the kiss.

“Did you like it?“ 

“I loved it.“

“Did you read the comments?“

My heart skips a beat when I hear that dreaded term. Just the thought of reading through the comments terrifies me. I tell myself that some strangers’ words aren’t gonna have an impact on me, but I know they will. Especially since these ‘strangers’ mean so much to Corpse.

I shake my head. He pulls away, taking my hand and leading me towards the living room. “You have to. You’re gonna love them.”

I reluctantly follow him, plopping down on the couch next to him as he pulls out his phone and scrolls through the comment section of the picture he posted. He was right. All these people have said such things about me and about our relationship. Some verified names are also there, sharing their support much like the fans. 

“See, this is why I was nervous. I’ll have to do duels for your attention now.“ He glances at me, leaning in and kissing my temple as he sometimes does so impulsively.

“You don’t do duels when you are already sitting at the throne. Right next to me.“ I once again capture his lips with mine, tempted to never pull away, but also tempted to keep reading the comments.

Damn, he might be right about the duels.

He takes his phone from me setting it aside as he slowly lifts me and settles me in his lap, never letting our lips detach.

Nevermind. Fuck the duels

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze

[bakibakini]

if this doesn’t show up in the tags too i’m gonna !! : ) ) also yes taking this from my old blog inbox sO SEND ME REQUESTS COWARDZZ

anonymous asked : May i request a few headcanons of bruno comforting someone whos experincing loneliness? (Can be platonic or romantic tbh i dont mind either way.) I apprechiate it please amd thank you ^^ also have a good day!!

✦ bruno buccellati comforting his s/o who’s experiencing loneliness ✦ headcanons

pairing : bruno buccellati x gn ! reader

genre : fluff , angst , comfort

notes : this one’s just soo cute !! & tbh even tho i’m surrounded by people i feel lonely very often so i felt it & i’d definitely love it if best mom comforted me ,, i hope ur still out there somewhere nonnie ily <3 i chose the romantic option btw !!

✧˖*°࿐

bruno buccellati : 

it was hard ; no matter how many people surrounded you , deep down you couldn’t help but feel so alone . meeting up with the few people you were friends with helped push that feeling back when you were out and about , but coming back to your lonely home made all of your insecurities creep back up . 

you could go out with your friends every day for all you cared , but it still felt like you hardly had any sort of connection with them . sitting in your home while watching tv only solidified that feeling . was there really no one in this life that was meant for you ? 

and then you met him . bruno buccellati , who was known by many passersby as a helpful man overall . it seemed like he was there whenever anyone needed a helping hand and you were no exception ; he had prevented you from getting completely soaked in the pouring rain by holding up an umbrella over your shivering figure , successfully shielding you , but also damning himself to stand under the rain . still , his eyes held nothing but good intent and it made you feel warm despite how cold it was . the long - forgotten feeling came as a welcome surprise . 

you were a little socially inept , you had to admit , but you still managed to convince him to get underneath the umbrella with you , even if that meant you had to huddle together like a couple of penguins . even so , you noticed that his shoulder that wasn’t next to yours wasn’t fully under the umbrella . you were far too embarrassed to say anything , so you kept trekking on . 

after he walked you home , you practically begged him to let you take him out for a coffee in return for endangering his health like this . he reluctantly agreed with a chuckle and you reveled in the fact that your life had gotten a little more interesting , if only for a moment .

you had no idea why he chose to keep in touch with you after your little coffee meeting , but you were grateful . he exuded such a comforting presence that made you feel like this was it ; the genuine connection you’ve been craving for so long . 

so of course you had to go in and ruin it , blurt out that you have feelings for him out of the blue . you were nothing but a delusional idiot --

imagine your surprise when he told you he had fallen for you too . you were about to rejoice for your successful confession , but it was then that he also confessed to you that he was a part of the mafia , involved in dangerous ordeals that could put you in danger just by mere association , not to mention the missions he had to attend . you didn’t care though , you weren’t about to let go of this warmth that graced your life , you didn’t want to be alone again . 

but now , with your feelings out in the open , his missions became unbearable , the sinking feeling of loneliness growing bigger and bigger each day he was away , especially without the guarantee he’d be back safe and sound . you never told him about just how lonely you felt , even when around people , not wanting to burden him further , so you supposed he wasn’t to blame for not contacting you much throughout his mission , but it still felt horrid . 

and today was especially bad . it had been , what , a month now ? with hardly any word to boot . and it wasn’t just loneliness that came to greet you , all your other insecurities came hurdling at you at the same exact time .

you aren’t good enough , a disgusting excuse for a human , with nothing to offer to the world . no wonder you’re alone , all you do was act selfish with how much love you require from bruno , without giving anything in return . 

it was only a matter of minutes before you’re reduced to a crying mess on your bedroom floor . through your desperate wails , you hardly hear the footsteps , hardly feel the gentle touch that only barely manages to snap you out of it . 

are you dreaming ? or is it really him ? 

you don’t have to wonder for much longer , because you’re pulled into bruno’s chest without a second thought , head now resting in a frail manner against him . you’d been craving this touch , but even with it , you still couldn’t help but feel completely alone and detached . after all , how long would it really be before he up and left ? 

you manage to calm down a little in ten or so minutes , hiccuping here and there , but at least your bawling had come to a full stop . bruno , hesitant to ask if you’re alright , opted to rub soothing circles on the small of your back . 

“ i - i don’t understand ... ” you mutter , gasping for air after each little word . “ y - you’re here , s - so why do i still feel s - so lonely -- ”

oh . 

it clicks for him . your longing gazes , the way you cling to him at night , as if he’s going to leave you , how your playful pout every time he’s about to leave seems off due to the way you soon cast your head downwards . he wasn’t sure what happened to you to push you towards feeling so alone in the world , but at the moment he could only blame himself . he had to leave , it was inevitable , but he could’ve at least put some effort into contacting you , even if it was brief . 

“ y/n , i’m sorry , i - ”

“ what are y - you sorry for , i’m just being stupid , and selfish , and i don’t deserve y - ”

“ tesoro , look at me . ” he says gently and pulls away , tilting your chin upwards with his hand . his heart sinks at the sight of stray tears rolling down your reddened cheeks . “ you don’t need to apologize , i should’ve noticed . i’ll try better for you from now on , i promise . ”

you want to argue , to tell him that he doesn’t have to do all these things for you , but the way he looks at you with such softness and conviction makes your throat clog all over again , even more tears threatening to spill . this feeling ... isn’t it love ? 

“ i love you. ” he confirms for you and it’s the first time he’s said it too . he kisses your forehead . “ you’re perfect . ” then he plants his lips against your cheek . “ you’re perfect for me , so don’t ever think i’ll leave you - ” then your other cheek . “ - even if it’s hard , alright ? ”

he leans his forehead against yours , peering in your glossy eyes intently . “ please remember that you’re not alone anymore . ”

that does you in . you try to keep it in this time , but you can’t help it and the tears spill without a moment to spare . you’re back to being nestled in his chest as he whispers just how much he loves you . 

after that little ordeal , he does his best to show that he loves you every day . not just that , but he also takes the time to introduce you to his team in hopes it’ll help you get out of your shell and make friends . he didn’t mind you depending on him , but he didn’t want you to grow too dependent , because that’d be unhealthy for you . 

still , even if you do get out of your shell a little bit more and manage to bond with others , he leaves little notes for you every time he leaves and tries to text you whenever he can . 

he hopes that someday you’ll be able to be completely happy and free from your ails . 

✧˖*°࿐

OOF I POPPED OFF RIGHT -- 

( jjba / bruno ) tag list : comment to be added babess !

[eberles]

Love, Rafe ♡

Part 4 - Boston

Rafe Cameron x OC

A/N: For those of you who have seen Love, Rosie you know that when Alex meets Sally, everything pretty much fast forwards about 5 years or so? So this chapter is A LOT. Anyways I hope you enjoy reading! ☺️ 

as some of you know, tumblr doesn’t want Love, Rafe on any of the OBX tags, so if you like it please reblog it 🥺it means a lot to me!

Warnings: angst, swearing

Part One Part Two Part Three

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

“Hi yea, I think we have a class together right? I’m Zoe!” she responded smiling and accepting his handshake. Zoe had to admit she came to this bar to sit alone and drink until she wasn’t sad about Rafe anymore, but seeing Nate did lift her sprits quite a bit. 

✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽

It’s been one year since Zoe met Nate in that bar in Boston and in that year they have moved in together. Zoe kept in contact with Rafe of course, sending gifts for Christmases and birthdays for him and baby Katie, but they haven’t actually seen each other at all. Zoe and Nate sent rafe Christmas cards with their photos on them to which Rafe rolled his eyes at, but Zoe always loved receiving Christmas cards with pictures of Rafe and baby Katie. She even hung them up as decorations around Christmas time despite Nate’s open dislike towards it. Nate often looked down on Rafe and his friendship with Zoe, but he was just a jealous man deep down. They often video chatted and when they couldn’t they would just send videos to each other and respond when they could. 

This went on for the next 5 years. Baby Katie was no longer a baby anymore, in fact, she could ride a bike on her own and she was about to start kindergarten! Rafe was doing good with Katie and now that she was able to go to school Rafe could finally get a stable job working with his father relearning the business he once knew in high school. Rafe wasn’t dating anyone but he definitely didn’t frown on having few one night stands every now and then. 

Zoe’s life was not nearly as perfect as it looked to the outside world. Sure, her and Nate lived in a perfect Boston apartment, but little did everyone know that that same apartment was where they spent a lot of time fighting. Mostly fights about stupid stuff like Zoe’s hair clogging the shower drain and if Zoe turned the heat up before asking Nate about it first, but he was always quick to blow up. One of those pointless late night fights is what led to Zoe texting Rafe telling him she missed him and wanted him to come visit and now that Katie was old enough to leave with his parents for more than a few hours, he said yes. 

It was just a few days later when Zoe met Rafe at an airport in Boston and of course the moment she saw him walking through the gates with his bags she ran up to him. Rafe spotted her running and dropped his bags while opening his arms waiting for Zoe to run into them and she did, along with lifting her legs and wrapping them around Rafe’s waist to give him the tightest hug ever. They were both smiling like crazy and everyone was staring at them in the middle of the airport. 

“I missed you!” Zoe said as Rafe put her back down on the ground.

“So, are you tired, hungry?” Zoe asked Rafe was they started moving through the airport.

“No..why?” Rafe asked her skeptically. He was right to be skeptical because they ended up at a rave with a few of Zoe’s friends from college. They had a really amazing night filled with alcohol, dancing, jumping around, swimming in a pool fully clothed. The two of them didn’t get any sleep that night; once the sun started to come up they ended up walking around the streets of Boston doing some sightseeing and touristy adventures. They ended up in Boston Commons laying on the grass just catching up on life. 

“I don’t regret Katie, ya know? She’s the most amazing kid. The only weird thing is that she reminds me more of you than Olivia, but I think that’s because I love her.” Rafe spoke as he started to move closer to Zoe. They were both laying in the grass but their faces were closer than ever. Rafe looked between Zoe’s eyes and lips a few times before deciding to lean in for a kiss. Zoe pulled away before their lips could connect and sighed quietly.

“We should go.” Zoe whispered and Rafe nodded in response. Since they had been out all night Zoe thought it would be nice to bring Rafe back to her apartment. Upon walking into the apartment, they saw Nate sitting on the stairs as if he was waiting for Zoe.

“Uh, Nate this is Rafe, Rafe meet Nate.” Zoe said politely looking between the two.

“Good morning.” Nate sighed out and retreated back upstairs to their shared room giving Zoe and Rafe a chance to exchange a side glance. The evening was about to get more tense however. Nate loved to cook so he thought it would be best to have a fun family dinner with his sister, Rafe, and Zoe. Rafe and Zoe sat next to each other across from Nate and his sister. He prepared an extremely posh meal in which Rafe felt he was too ‘normal’ to eat.

“Wow, you guys eat like this all the time?” Rafe asked.

“No, just when we have special guests.” Nate responded with no emotion in his voice.

“Well, it looks delicious.” Rafe added, trying to soften the tension in the air. Nate smiled slightly at his response, but you could tell he didn’t care very much what Rafe thought of his food. A few minutes of awkward silence goes by before Nate’s phone rings and Zoe isn’t surprised when he leaves dinner to answer it.

“Who was that?” Zoe asked with a raised eyebrow when he returned to the table.

“Can we just talk about it later, please?” Nate said quietly trying to keep their business out of Rafe’s ears.

“No, tell me now, Nate.” Zoe said getting a little angry, she knew who it was and she wanted Nate to say it.

“It was Melissa, okay? For fucks sakes, you can never leave anything alone!” Nate started off quiet but he yelling by the end of his sentence. It didn’t take long for him to abruptly stand up from the table and throw his dish in the sink breaking it in the process, before he stormed off.

“Who is Melissa?” Rafe asked Zoe quietly.

“The girl Nate cheated on me with a few months ago.” Zoe whispered, trying to wrap her brain around the fact it was happening again, but she had a gut feelings when he ran off to answer the phone. Nate would’ve never done that if it were anyone else calling which is why she pushed for him to tell her who it was. Zoe knew she should’ve told Rafe when it happened, but she was embarrassed and Nate promised it was over and then it didn’t mean anything. Rafe didn’t ask anymore questions even though he had about a dozen more upon hearing her answer. 

“Well, at least we still have that art show to go to later!” Nate’s sister spoke out once Nate returned back downstairs with the rest of you. Although the art show wasn’t exactly good either. It didn’t take long for Rafe to get fed up with the lies around him and storm out, but he didn’t expect Zoe to leave Nate’s side and follow him out.

“Rafe! Where are you going?” Zoe yelled out, following Rafe down the side walk.

“I’m going back to Outer Banks, Zoe! I shouldn’t be here and you know that!” Rafe said back while raising his arms up in the air as he turned around to face Zoe.

“Rafe, what? Everything’s fine, Nate and I act like that all the time.” Zoe breathed out once she caught up to him.

“Oh that’s great, i’m so glad you’re fine, but i’m not, we were out together all night Zoe, and you didn’t even tell me your boyfriend is cheating on you! Why am I here, Zoe? So you can get back at him?” Rafe questioned her.

“You’re here because I wanted to see you! Jesus, you’re my best friend!” Zoe yelled back, getting defensive. 

“Or maybe you needed someone that you know well enough to point out what’s right in front of you.” Rafe spoke, trying to be gentle with Zoe.

“What are you even talking about, Rafe?” Zoe said while slumping her shoulders down, already exhausted from this conversation.

“This entire thing is so fucked up, Zoe! God damnit! Open your eyes!” Rafe yelled, getting frustrated.

“I don’t know if you’re like jealous of my life here seeing what you could’ve had if you didn’t get a girl pregnant or what, Rafe, but you need to relax.” Zoe said as she felt her eyes start to fill with tears.

“I’m not jealous, Zoe, I feel sorry for you, and I can’t do this.” Rafe laughed out and walked away from Zoe leaving her on the side walk for the second time that night. 

Part 5

[brianmight]

In Another World

In another world under another sky I see another story waiting to be told

Summary: 70s Brian wakes up from what he believes is an innocent sleep at Ridge Farm--- except he now suddenly finds himself in a trailer that belongs to one Gwilym Lee. Aka, both Bri and Gwil become the human embodiments of the “I am confusion” vine.

I was asked to tag @wirkmood @brianmayplease @hysterical-qween

A distinct lack of animal noises greeted the guitarist’s ears the moment he became conscient. The somewhat ominous silence was hardly noticed though, as his senses still dwelled under the narcotics called sleep. Lazily, he brought a pair of fingers towards his eyes, yawning as he did a fruitless attempt to wipe the weariness away. Ironically enough, the gesture only seemed to blur Brian’s vision more. He shifted and allowed his legs to dangle over the sides of what his numb brain assumed to be his bed, but anyone present would have correctly identified the piece of furniture as a leather sofa. Not Brian, though, who found himself on the thin border between reality and a subconscious dreamland. The rest had been well-deserved after sleepless nights of recording, which was all they could do to limit the exceedance of the album’s deadline. Stress was evident all day long at Ridge Farm and nested into the backs of their minds, only to emerge to the surface in the shape of yells and frustrated sighs. Quarrels became more common by the minute. Recording drained all his energy, turning the atmosphere even less agreeable. Surely, there were pleasant moments too among the quartet; instances of laughter, amity, and relief. But they had become rare and were usually overshadowed by the abundance of arguments.

Another yawn fled his lips, only just evading the man’s nearing palm that was supposed to suppress the flow of air. He slowly raised himself from the surface he’d been sitting on. For the first time since he’d woken up, Brian fully opened his eyes instead of gazing through tired splits. They instantly widened. His reflection in the glass of a horizontal window gazed back at him, omitting an equally surprised feeling. Carob curls were a tangled and utterly untamed mess upon his head, particularly as one side was slightly flattened due to the pressure it suffered during the brief sleep. It wasn’t his appearance that perplexed the guitarist, though--- it was the window itself that caused his brows to knit together in bewilderment. It shouldn’t be there. Nor did he recall the soft cream walls it was connected to. Nor the potted fiddle leaf fig before it. It took far too long to dawn upon him that he found himself in an entirely different room than where he’d drifted off. Where were the old-fashioned embroidered curtains? The slightly cracked wallpaper? The bed with its squeaky mattress? Now, there was a simple yet comfortable couch in its stead. The dimly-lit bedroom was completely replaced by the bright interior of what Brian guessed was some sort of caravan, and he was absolutely certain he’d never been there before. The gears inside his head slowly awoke and attempted to make sense of the situation. Had intoxication played a part? Did alcohol prevent him from remembering how on earth he ended up where-ever he was? No, that couldn’t be it--- Brian seldom imbibed enough to affect his memory in such a severe manner. He preferred to keep a clear head. Sleepwalking, then? Unlikely.

A door opened behind him, briefly allowing noises from outside inside the trailer before dimming them again. Brian peeked over his shoulder before completely turning around. At first glance, the sight that greeted him seemed nothing more than an ordinary mirror; just another perfect reflection like the window had given him. Indeed, both figures shared the very same touch of confusion on their identical faces. Upon further inspection, however, Brian came to the unexpected and somewhat unnerving realization that there was no glass. Nothing to reflect his image, which could mean only one thing: an exact duplicate of him stood in the trailer. Copy nor antecedent moved for what felt like minutes, frozen at the sight of the other soul. Baffled to the very core, Brian broke the silence with one whispered syllable: “What-”

As if his voice had been the trigger, a Heineken can, which the other man must’ve taken from the minifridge next to the door, slipped free from the guy’s fingers and fell straight on the oaken floorboards. Time instantly melted from its frozen state and continued with rapidity. The familiar stranger sighed and managed to pull himself out of the bewildered trance - unlike Brian - by bending one knee to clean up the mess on the ground. “Christ, you scared me there for a second!” he mumbled with relief spreading across his features in the form of a lopsided grin. There was still a tinge of uncertainty visible in his eyes, though, as if there was something he couldn’t quite fathom. “I didn’t know I needed a stunt double. What is it you have to do? Crowdsurf?”

While the other continued as if nothing odd had occurred, Brian stood nailed to the floor. Unblinking eyes studied the fellow, gazing at the long curls, the mouth and jaw--- a combination he before had only seen in photographs of himself. Not to mention the other man’s outfit: a navy varsity jacket. Jeans. White wooden shoes. Apart from the slight lack of velvet, it would not surprise Brian if he had those exact garments in his own closet. Merely one factual error did he spot: the eyes. Those irises were far too blue. It reassured him slightly and soothed his perplexity to the extent where he could breathe normally again. Muscles relaxed when Brian arrived at the only conclusion that seemed somewhat logical: it was nothing but a prank. It must be. Typical Roger. The clogs were a finely added detail with a mocking undertone.

“.... stunt double? I’m no stunt double, mate,” he dismissed with one raised eyebrow, handing the kneeling guy the kitchen towel that hung on the armrest of a chair. “Did Rog set you up to this? How much did he pay you to dress up as me?” However much Brian tried to come up with a rational basis for whatever was happening, none of it would make sense. Was this all part of the jest? Creating a copy of him, emphasizing how replaceable his role in the band was? An odd tinge of irritation arose beneath Brian’s skin as he rose to his feet at the same time as the other guy, who appeared to be equally puzzled. “I haven’t the faintest clue what you’re talking about.” Denial. Of course. This was exactly how his bandmates would play it. Brian clenched his jaw, reminding himself that it wasn’t the stranger’s fault and it wouldn’t be fair to blame him for his colleagues’ awful sense of humour.

“Or was it Freddie?”

“Freddie, as in Freddie Mercury?”

“The one and only. Well? Was it him?”

Silence. If confusion were to be personified, the living and breathing prototype was standing right in front of Brian. Something in his demeanour hinted that his bewilderment was absolutely sincere, but the guitarist tried to look past that. If he was genuinely surprised, that would mean Brian’s hypothesis about the prank was incorrect, and he couldn’t give any other explanations for what was happening without being labelled a madman.

“If you’re not a stunt double, who are you? And how did you get in here?” the replica asked, evading Brian’s inquiry as he tossed the towel on the chair again without breaking eye contact. The question seemed innocent enough. To Brian, however, it was just another sneer against his individual self; a joke gone too far. A joke. That was all this was. Even if it wasn’t, it would be if he just kept repeating that idea in his head. A stupid prank. Nothing that harmed his sanity.  

“Who are you?” the man repeated, the frown on his forehead indicating that he was already aware of the answer but refused to accept it without the ultimate confirmation; almost as if the truth was far too surreal to be true. “You’re not actually….     - you look identical to him. I have watched God knows how much footage of him and you look exactly…. ” His stammering voice was gradually reduced to silence. Disbelief was firmly established in the stranger’s eyes. The situation was much like how Brian imagined a fan to react after running into their famed idol, but it seemed improbable that was the current case. Queen was not that famous. Perhaps it was the hair that made him more distinctive. It didn’t matter: Brian was still no closer to clarification and at this point, he felt like he was hovering on the thin edge between confusion and insanity. He bit on the inside of his cheek, soon tasting the faint rust of blood, which was received with no alarm as his mind was far too occupied with other problems.

“I’m Brian, if that’s what you’re asking,” he confirmed and immediately wanted to fire another question at him, only stopped by the audible gasp that escaped the other’s mouth. Where the guy’s lips had formerly been shaped in a perplexed oval, they now transformed into a careful yet no less bemused smile. Brian sensed another surge of bafflement and felt simultaneously startled.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re… actually young Brian May?”

“Relatively young, I suppose, but---”

“Is this a dream? Pinch me.” The stranger, still sporting the paradoxical amusement, slowly extended an arm in Brian’s direction. That was it. The guitarist took a firm step back as the anxious feeling in his stomach arrived at its boiling point. Breaths grew heavier, and he only just suppressed a raised voice as a pleading question filled the air. “Can you please tell me what the hell is going on here? I feel like I’m going utterly mad.”

The other man’s smile vanished somewhat. His eyes were wide once again.

“--- I share that feeling, believe me. Though not as much as you do,” he added quickly, again lifting his arm but this time for an amiable shake. “The name’s Gwilym. I ---- -     play you.” Clearly, the sentence hadn’t been thought through before being uttered, for the hesitation in Gwilym’s voice nor the puzzled expression on his features could hide the awkwardness that the verb brought along. Brian frowned and slightly shifted his head to study the other from tip to toe once more. “... in which sense of the word?” He shook Gwilym’s hand with caution.

“As in portray. In a film.”

“A film about me?”

“About the band. Freddie, mostly.”

“Do you mean a promotional video for the new album?” His own suggestion only confused Brian more. It made zero sense to use actors for such a video. Besides, half the songs weren’t even recorded yet. He rested his hands on his hips in a slightly pensive manner while waiting for the ultimate answer that would make everything comprehensible.

Gwilym paused, visibly unsure what to reply. He cast a quick look at the window as if signalling for help, or at least some sort of guidance in the peculiar conversation. After several seconds of stroking his own chin, he rolled his eyes and let out the following words in defeat: “Why don’t you see for yourself?”

Without saying another word, he stepped towards the door, tugged it open and stepped outside, leaving a baffled Brian behind in the trailer. The guitarist hesitated. See for yourself. There’d been something mischievous in Gwilym’s tone, as if he knew he was messing with something he shouldn’t be meddling with. Altogether, that only made Brian more tempted to follow him. He looked around one last time, desperate for something familiar to cling onto and turn everything back to normal again. A failed attempt. The inviting door stood ajar, begging to be opened, and it took only a few seconds before he gave in; his hand rested on the latch, and for some reason he could not fathom he closed his eyes as he pulled the entrance open.

Brian did not know what to expect. Outside air, perhaps. Voices. People rushing around. When his eyelids parted, there was nothing of the sort. Only the old wallpaper, the murky curtains, the knitted blanket underneath which his numb limbs lay. The shrill of a rooster pierced through his bedroom window, announcing his return to the present. He let out a laugh of relief as his head fell back on the pillow. It had been nothing but a foolish dream! The captivating details of his vision had caused him to consider it reality, and still was his chest beating in anxiety.

Both Roger and Deaky were sat at the dining table, devouring their breakfast while engaged in such a deep conversation they didn’t notice Brian entering. He rubbed his temples as he made his way to the fridge, in his passing catching two fragments of their chat:

“------    and that was when the chap with the perm introduced himself as Joe.”

“That’s one messed up dream, but I bet it was nothing compared to mine.”

[takaraphoenix]

In light of tumblr actually committing suicide, I’m feeling nostalgic and would like to tell you all about my first real online community experience. Because everybody always has their MySpace or LiveJournal stories... and I was never on either of those.

I want to tell you about a site that is called Animexx. And... it changed a lot since I was really active on it and it was by far never perfect, but at its skeletal structure, it’s something I am still seeking out and I genuinely don’t understand why such a type of site doesn’t exist in a broader, English context. Let me rephrase that to make it clearer: It’s a German site... well... there seems to be a .com version that’s actually English, but somehow everything still shows up in German so I don’t know about that. And, as the name might suggest, it is primarily focused on anime/manga/Jpop.

So, this is less of a recommendation and more of a... pitch of my dream online-experience, based on how that site worked, with some side-notes on upgrades. But, at its core, it’s essentially a mixture of DeviantArt, Fanfiction.Net, tumblr and then some more.

(I’ll be talking in past-tense because I haven’t really been on the site in 10 years so I genuinely don’t know what changed and what is still the same.)

Fanworks

Obviously. Only that the site had different partitions for different types of fanworks. Not like tumblr where everything is just one endless pit that you get lost in.

You had fanarts, that were sorted by TV show/movie/book/band/whatever so you could actually go and properly look for them. It’s one of the things I hate about DeviantArt; that you don’t have specific categories to post fanarts under in the same way you’d do it with fics on FFNet/AO3 so you can browse specifically for them. In my ideal world, we would also add a tagging-function like on AO3 for it, including things such as pairing tags and character tags so you could actually find shit easier.

You had fanfiction. WITH a tagging function - just like on AO3. AND you had ONE feature that I AM STILL DEARLY MISSING. Seriously, both FFNet and AO3 make me bemoan the loss of the Character Descriptions.

See, you’d click on the fic and firstly be presented with the fic’s main page. A list of all chapters, the tags, the summary and the stats. And above it are tags.

You can (still, as proven by fresh and new screenshot) upload character profiles, including a picture of the character and a chart with whatever information you want to give - name/age/whatever. Which, particularly in AUs is immensely practical. “Wait what magical creature was that again?”.

And not just that. The tab right next to “Characters”? “Illustrations”. Since the site itself hosts fanarts too, you could directly mark the art you upload as an illutration to a specific fic and they’d then be linked to connect with each other.

Now, granted, their fanfiction system is not perfect - there are a lot of rules/censoring. But this very system? The system of including additional character information and allowing a direct link between a fic and its illustrations? That is perfect. And I miss it very dearly.

And fanfiction and fanarts aren’t where fanworks end. It also had its own doujinshi - comic - site. Because that is also a thing I hate on DeviantArt. If you’re lucky, someone posting a comic will also include a link to the last page in the description. No. On here, comics worked just like fanfiction in that you have it all together. They too are separated into chapters, if the author so pleases, and you can just subscribe to a comic like you’d do to a fanfiction. Seriously, how has this function not reached DeviantArt yet...? This site has had it for literal eighteen years now...

Photos also had their separate sub-site, like cosplay photos and such.

Now, nowadays and with my experience here on tumblr, on an ideal website we would also add a separate GIF-site to it.

Community

For one, your profile is way more elaborate than on... any other site I’ve seen. Aside from many options on what to put on it - like multiple profile pics, multiple tabs on your biography (mostly used to linking to other things... that is actually why my FFNet profile looks the way it does, because that’s how I used to keep it in the olden days, only that I would actually be able to separate the timeline and the updating schedule onto different tags for easier access...).

You also had a guestbook, much like how you can publically comment on people’s profiles on DeviantArt.

It also had a direct link to your personal blog. Which, you don’t have to use obviously, but yeah. There’s also a blogging function.

Of course it also has a private messaging function. Only that it’s actually a good and proper one. I love that FFNet has one, but it sucks because it’s just all clogging up your inbox. No, this site has one that works essentially like your average e-mail account; you can create folders and sort your fucking mail like a civilized person.

Additonally to the private messaging function, there is also a chat on here.

There is also an RPG community. Not like on tumblr where just... everything is everywhere and whatever. It’s neatly separated, just like the fics and fanarts and comics and photos. Everything has its place. Seriously, why are American sites so fucking unorganized, it drives me crazy.

Now, the best part about the community were the Circles. That’s what they were called. They’re forums, really. Clubs, kinda.

You could start one about... whatever. Like, dedicated to a particular ship. And you, as the admin, could then proceed however you want. Public? Or only after applying, meaning that the admin had to let you in. Especially after meeting the phenomenon of antis, I miss this dearly, because... just imagining having a Circle for fans of your “problematic fave” and moderating who gets in - meaning only letting in actual fans of the character - so they can safely post about them there.

Each Circle included multiple forums, however many you want. Say, one generally talking about the ship, one about that chara, one about the other, another about gift exchanges, fic recommendations, or literally whatever you want.

And a Circle could directly link to its members’ fanfiction and fanarts - or well those relevant for the Circle at hand.

Those were really where the sense of community came from. You had your... yeah, your safe space to talk about whatever you loved with other people who also love it. No risk of publically posting about your fave and some dumbass hijacking the post or bullying you about it. You just had your forums inside the Circle and got to talk about what you love.

There is much more that the site had to offer - a direct shop where fanartists could sell merch and printed versions of their comics, an event page where you could easily find fan-events near you (or far away from you, depending on what you’re looking for), heck it even doubled as a dating site - but that just to sum up what I really miss about this site and how it worked.

And I just... I genuinely don’t understand why such a thing, in this day and age of fandom being so huge, doesn’t exist on a broader scale, in a mainly English-speaking context. A site that seamlessly unites the different aspects of fandom - fanarts, fanfiction, fan-comics, community and blogging.

Both DeviantArt and tumblr are a garbage mess, let’s be very clear on that, because they allow absolutely no way of properly and easily accessing only fanworks to one specific fandom. It’s not like sorting into fandoms is a new thing; fanfiction does it even on fucking Fanfiction.Net so why does it seem so wild for non-fanfiction sites to also include such a function...? Not to mention, when talking about those two examples, a proper and neat separation of the different types of fanworks. Yes, a rudimentary system exists, but... not a clear-cut and simple one, for some reason.

For me, who I come from a site that united all sides of fandom so easily and for free, it has always been absolutely beyond me that you need different accounts on different sites for your different fandom-experience - tumblr for blogging, DeviantArt for a half-way good system on fanarts, AO3/FFNet for fanfiction (and yes, I know many just post everything on tumblr, but with how it is indistinguishable when it comes to looking for specific things, this is clearly not what tumblr was really meant to do...).

I just want... one site to unite them all but also do it systematically and not in one hot-mess pile of EVERYTHING where you have to entirely rely on luck and tags, instead of sub-categories of a) types of fanwork and b) fandoms. Seriously, it can’t be that hard and it has literally been around for eighteen years now in Germany. Is it just because we Germans like to be organized, or what...?

And, to end this post: If you actually know such a site, drop me a link. If you feel inspired and make such a site, also drop me a link.

[pocketseizure]

The Legend of the Princess, Chapter 24

Rivers Running Underground

In which Zelda witnesses a number of things she’d rather not see in the darkness below Hyrule Castle.

(Chapter 24 on AO3) (Story Tag on Tumblr) (Cover Illustration)

* * * * *

When Zelda stepped into the corridor to join Impa, the first thing she noticed was a fervid magenta light approaching rapidly from the opposite direction.

Nabooru noticed it as well. “Get back!” she commanded, thrusting her spear in front of her.

Ganondorf grabbed Zelda’s arm and pulled her toward him just as a blazing golden comet of flame jetted from the outstretched line of Nabooru’s spear. A second later there was a high-pitched wail and the sound of glass shattering.

“It must have been a poe,” Ganondorf whispered into Zelda’s ear. “I’ve seen them going back and forth along the corridor while I’ve been down here. They infest the ruins in the desert too.”

Zelda had dealt with her fair share of poes, and she didn’t need Ganondorf to explain this to her. In that moment he was the last thing on her mind.

“That was amazing!” she exclaimed.

Nabooru winked at her. “Telma’s not around to tell me not to use magic.”

“I’ve never seen anything like that,” Zelda continued, thoroughly impressed. “Do you think you could teach me how to use magic?”

“And while you’re at it, teach me too,” Impa joined in, laughing.

“If you’re going to show off your tricks, why did you even bother bringing a spear?” Ganondorf grumbled as he emerged into the corridor behind them.

“She needs it,” Zelda and Impa said at the same time, sharing a look. After all, there were far worse things than ghosts in these underground passageways.

“Right,” Nabooru said, tapping the blunt end of her spear against the stone floor. “Let’s get a move on. You two stay behind us. Cover us if you can, but let us do the heavy fighting if we encounter anything nasty. Your battle is still ahead of you.”

“Speaking of which,” Impa added, “you’re not doing to get anywhere with those daggers, dear apprentice of mine.” She removed a short reflex bow and a quiver of arrows from the small arsenal strapped to her back and handed them to Zelda.

“You knew I would come here,” Zelda said softly to Impa as she took the bow.

Impa only smiled in response, but Zelda could see the glint of excitement in her eyes. Despite her sense of foreboding, she understood Impa’s mood perfectly. She had always enjoyed training with Impa in the northern forest, and in the caverns in nearby Kakariko Village, and even in the more neglected corners of the castle dungeon. Zelda knew that she would never be a real warrior, at least not in the same way Impa was, but she still enjoyed the dynamic tension of a bow in her hand and the sharp assurance of an arrow between her fingers. Her earlier trepidation concerning how to handle Ganondorf had vanished, and it pleased her that he would be able to see what she could do with a proper set of weapons. She hoped he would keep her prowess in mind when – if – they found the Triforce.

If Zelda’s suspicions were correct, then they were headed for the Temple of Time on the edge of the woods to the north of the castle. Although she knew that the abandoned temple was connected to the castle grounds through the underground waterways, she didn’t know the exact route to get there. Impa did, however, and Zelda was a little jealous of her, as she always had been. She wished, not for the first time, that someone else could be a princess so that she could join the Sheikah. If her parents had other children, or if there had been a more suitable candidate for the throne of Hyrule, then she might have had that option. But no, her mother and Ganondorf’s mother had made some sort of pact, and in any case it was the royal family’s custom that there could only be one Zelda every few generations. She sympathized with Ganondorf, truly she did – it wasn’t easy to be bound to one’s fate from the very moment of one’s birth.

The small party set off with Impa in the lead. Nabooru and Zelda followed her closely, their weapons at the ready. Ganondorf lagged behind, still unarmed. Zelda was annoyed with his apparent nonchalance at first, but gradually she realized that he was concentrating deeply on the path that Impa was navigating. Every so often he would touch the tips of his fingers to the stones of the wall, whisper something unintelligible, and send out a pulse of magic that she could feel on her skin.

Zelda tried to keep track of the twists and turns of their route, but eventually she lost count and simply followed Impa, figuring that it would be more useful if she kept an eye out for any of the various creatures that lived and hunted and ate in the darkness. After a while the moldy air of the stone passages began to grow fresher and was replaced by the slightly alkaline smell of running water. Before long Zelda could hear the sound of the water rushing through the tunnels ahead of them, and after Impa unlocked a series of rusty iron gates with a mere touch of her hands they were in the castle sewers.

“Be on your guard,” Impa said in a muted voice. “The path we’ve taken has been safe so far, but there are no Sheikah wards to protect us here. I hope we won’t run into anything too dangerous, but it’s probably going to get messy at some point.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Nabooru replied, patting Impa on the shoulder.

Impa nodded in response. “We need to move quickly. The longer we linger, the more likely something unpleasant will notice us.”

Unlike the bare walls and floors of the dungeon corridors, the sewers were clogged with hanging strands of gray moss and the dangling tips of pale and unhealthy roots. Rats as big as dogs skittered across the slippery walkways, and keese with viciously sharp teeth swooped down at them from the ceiling. As she promised, Nabooru made proficient use of her spear, and Impa struck anything that came close to her with the glowing blade she held in her hand like a torch. Zelda conserved her energy and arrows, keenly aware that her arsenal was limited.

Ganondorf focused his attention behind them, presumably to ensure that they weren’t blindsided by an attack from the rear, and it was he who saw the skulltulas first.

“My dear cousin,” he said in Gerudo, the resonant tones of his voice echoing through the vaulted stone corridors, “I do believe this Sheikah friend of yours has led us directly into a den of monsters. If you would be so kind as to look up, you’ll witness something quite disturbing. But no sudden movements, if you please.”

Zelda was so amazed by the cultured politesse of Ganondorf’s language that it took her a moment to process his words and do as he suggested. As soon as she looked above her, she wished she hadn’t. Hundreds of beady red eyes formed pinpricks of light in the shadowy mass of webbing attached to the ceiling. Nothing moved until a skulltula plopped to the ground in front of them with a sickeningly heavy thud. It was young, only as wide around as a paving stone, but it demonstrated no signs of fear, only looking at them with its eight horrible eyes.

“Well, cousin,” Nabooru muttered, “I would never claim that you’re one for theatrics, but if you wanted to show off for the princess then now’s the time.”

Ganondorf clicked his tongue in annoyance, a sound that was swiftly followed by a terrible rustling above their heads.

“To me!” he shouted, and Nabooru dashed toward him. Impa followed suit, grabbing Zelda and dragging her along so that they were all pressed against Ganondorf.

“Shut your eyes,” he commanded. Zelda did so, and a split second later her ears were filled with the roar of an incredible rush of wind. The air crackled and buzzed with magic, and Zelda squinted her eyes open enough to see that they were surrounded by a tempest of flames. The inferno was so bright that she once again screwed her eyes tightly shut.

After perhaps half a minute, Impa loosened her grip on Zelda’s arm, and she opened her eyes. It took her vision a moment to clear, but there were no skulltulas to be seen, nor any of their webs. There was, however, a peculiar odor.

“Did you really have to vaporize the sewer water?” Nabooru said to Ganondorf, waving her hand in front of her nose.

“How about that,” Impa remarked, whistling in admiration. “I’m impressed. Is everyone from that desert of yours some sort of wizard?”

“Oh goodness no,” Nabooru responded, laughing as she began following Impa, who once again took the lead. “A few of our elders specialize in that sort of thing, and some of us take a class or two during basic training, but this one is special. He always had his head in the books when he was a kid, and then he got into the habit of exploring ruins. He calls this spell ‘Din’s Fire,’ and he claims he learned it from a fairy in some sort of secret fountain out in the sand wastes.”

“So the Great Fairies are real, then?” Impa interjected, turning to face Ganondorf. “You lucky bastard! I’d love to meet one myself.”

Ganondorf merely grunted in response, and Impa shrugged and continued on her way.

Zelda did her best to keep walking, putting one foot in front of the other, but her earlier sense of going on a grand adventure had vanished. Ganondorf’s casual display of such powerful destructive magic filled her with dread. It had been difficult – almost impossible – for her to reconcile the warlords she saw in her visions with the Ganondorf she had once played with as a child, but it had finally come home to her that this man was capable of hideous acts of violence. Scenes from her visions looped through her mind: the enemy general decimating the soldiers at the front gate of Hyrule Castle, the warlock king striking a burning tower as tall as the heavens with a jagged streak of lightning, the demonic face of the young prince after the Gerudo camp was attacked, the black-scaled deity looking down on a decimated kingdom with its callous golden eyes. Even if their cause was just – no, especially if their cause was just – the ends these men used to justify their means were unspeakable.

When Zelda told Ganondorf that she still hadn’t decided whether to save him or to kill him when she came to him in the dungeon, she wasn’t being facetious. She owed it to herself and her kingdom to find out what he truly wanted, but she could not afford to spare him if he did become a monster – if he did become the “Ganon” whose name was being chanted by roving mobs in the streets high above their heads. She had not seen any of the princesses in her visions kill the men who had become their nemeses, but of course they had. She did not want to kill Ganondorf, the man she had danced with in the sky above a crumbling castle that not even the stars could see, but of course she would.

May the goddess grant me wisdom, she prayed, hoping against hope that she could find another way.

The quartet continued on without further incident. The line of Impa’s mouth grew thinner as her facial features solidified into a stony blankness. It was clear to Zelda that something was bothering her.

“It’s been a while since we passed the skulltula nest,” Nabooru remarked, apparently picking up on Impa’s shift in mood, “but I haven’t seen so much as a single keese since then. Did those spiders manage to eat everything down here?”

Impa didn’t answer, but she quickened her pace. They all followed her in silence.

There was no sound aside from the flow of water churning alongside the raised walkways, but Zelda gradually became aware of a quiet but discordant noise.

“Impa…?” she whispered, wondering if she were the only one who heard it.

“We’re very close” was Impa’s curt reply. “But we need to move quickly.”

They passed through a tunnel with a low overhang and into a chamber so vast that its dimensions were lost in shadow. Perhaps it might once have been used as a reservoir, but its uneven floor was dry and dusty. Zelda couldn’t see far into the darkness, but the odd sound had grown louder.

“Okay, we need to stop now,” Nabooru announced, plunking the end of her spear onto the floor. “I can hear something out there, and it’s giving me the creeps. I have a bad feeling about this. Is there another way we can go?”

“I think… I think we better,” Impa muttered. Zelda was shocked by the sudden uncertainty in Impa’s voice, and she immediately realized what they had inadvertently wandered into. The underground passageways they had been traversing eventually connected to the temple in the forest, but along the way they passed under the castle graveyard. Zelda strongly suspected that they had found themselves in something far more disturbing than an empty reservoir.

“It might be too late to return the way we came,” Ganondorf said. He raised his hand and sent a glowing ball of light upwards, illuminating the chamber and revealing that they were surrounded by hideous creatures that had once been human but were now nothing of the sort. The broken figures shambled toward them, blocking the way forward – and the way back.

To her credit, Nabooru didn’t panic. “What are these things?” she asked Impa. “And, more importantly, how to we get rid of them?”

Impa shook her head in response as she scanned the room. Zelda could tell that she was searching for grappling targets, but the ceiling was much too high.

Not wanting to interrupt whatever plan Impa might be in the process of forming, Zelda answered Nabooru’s question. “We call these things ReDeads, and we can’t kill them. They’re already dead, or… or something like it.”

“Is it possible to hold them off?” Nabooru asked.

“I’m not sure,” Zelda replied. “I’ve never fought one. They don’t respond to being attacked. It’s easy enough to avoid them, but I’ve never seen more than one or two at a time. They’re generally guarding something, and it’s best just to leave them to it. They’re usually not so aggressive, unless…” Zelda realized that she was rambling, and she shut her mouth abruptly. Nothing she was saying was helping. The only thing she could do was to fit an arrow to the string of her bow and hope that she would be able to momentarily slow down any of the creatures that came too close.

“All right, so physical attacks won’t work,” Nabooru responded calmly. “How about fire? Din knows we have enough of that to go around.”

“That won’t stop them,” Ganondorf muttered.

“What?” Zelda turned to him. How would he know?

“We don’t actually need to fight them,” Ganondorf continued. “They’re animated by Sheikah magic, so we can use Sheikah magic to command them.”

He glanced at Impa. “By your leave,” he said. She responded with a look of horror.

This didn’t seem to bother Ganondorf. He began chanting in an oddly accented language that Zelda had never heard before. The curiously asymmetric structure of its tones bothered her, and she thought to herself that she would prefer never to hear it again. As Ganondorf’s words rang out through the vast room, the creeping monstrosities stopped in their tracks and began to sway in time to the irregular rhythm of the cadence of his voice. Zelda was shocked when it occurred to her that they were actually listening to him, something that she didn’t think was possible with these creatures. It chilled her to her core to realize that they still possessed some semblance of consciousness and will, and that they were capable of more than mindlessly crouching and lunging at anything that made the mistake of crossing the lines of the spellwork that bound them.

Nabooru and Impa watched Ganondorf with identical expressions of disgust. Zelda had no idea what they were thinking, but she was filled with terror. It was bad enough that Ganondorf knew it was possible to communicate with the undead, and it was worse that he had not only learned how this was done but was apparently skilled at doing so. And yet Zelda wasn’t surprised; she felt as if she had known this all along somewhere in the farthest recesses of her mind. A warlord needs an army, after all, but there were never enough Darknuts or Moblins or even Gerudo to attack Hyrule, not even if they combined their forces. Was this what “Ganon” was, the legendary Demon King? Could he truly control creatures like this? Could he force them to do his bidding? Is that what made him such an object of fear and hatred?

To Zelda, however, the most troubling realization was that Ganondorf was using Sheikah magic, and he was proficient at a level far above anything Impa could command. He clearly knew Sheikah herbal lore as well, so he must have known that it was the Sheikah who created ReDeads, normal humans who were tortured to the point of mindless madness but denied the release of death, forever cursed to guard the tombs and secrets of the royal family. The ReDeads, as awful as they were, were bound to Zelda just as the Sheikah themselves were. Impa had taught Zelda, deep in the training grounds underneath the Sheikah village of Kakariko, that one day she would inherit this legacy of darkness. It was something she didn’t like to think about, something she wished she could dissociate herself from. One day, when she was queen, she would do away with these sorts of foul practices, she told herself, even as she knew that it would become her job as a monarch to use any means at her disposal to maintain the peace of the world above this subterranean nightmare. After all, the dead had never rested easy in Hyrule, and the good of the many far outweighed the fate of a few unlucky souls.

Zelda hated this aspect of the monarchy and was grateful for the services of the Sheikah, who shielded the light of the royal family from the shadows of their kingdom, but Ganondorf had known about this darkness all along. How many of the unsavory secrets of the queens and kings of Hyrule did he know? What had he learned in the ruins of the temples and factories and castles and prisons that her ancestors had abandoned? What did he know that she didn’t?

Zelda was paralyzed by loathing – loathing of the ReDeads that swayed in place according to a hellish rhythm but did not retreat, loathing of Ganondorf who felt no shame at exerting his will over them, and loathing of herself for her powerlessness. Perhaps she could use her ocarina to amplify the effect of Ganondorf’s chanting, but she was so overcome by queasiness and doubt that she could barely bring herself to move.

Suddenly there was a bright flash of light in the distance. It was as if someone had uncovered the lens of a gas-powered torch pointed directly at the ceiling. As the beam of light drew closer, the ReDeads shrank away into the shadows at the edges of the chamber, and a hooded figure walked slowly into the void they left, holding a glowing sword aloft.

“Link?” Zelda recognized him immediately, but she couldn’t begin to understand why he was here or what he was doing.

“That’s right, Princess, it’s me,” he called out to her from across the expanse of the dirty tiled floor. “Can you get that idiot to shut up? What he’s doing isn’t the least bit useful, and his voice is bothering me.”

Ganondorf scowled but fell silent. His eerie chanting had set Zelda’s nerves on edge, and she sighed with relief now that he had finally stopped.

“What is that child doing here?” Nabooru asked Impa. “Does someone want to explain what’s going on? Is he really holding what I think he is? Farore save us all.”

“I don’t believe it,” Impa muttered, shaking her head as Link continued to walk toward them, the ReDeads cowering away from him. “He’s done it. He’s drawn the Master Sword.”

Zelda glanced at Ganondorf, but his expression was unreadable. The light he had cast was fading, and his face was obscured by the sharp shadows thrown by the bright illumination of Link’s sword. Zelda was well aware that Ganondorf was the most dangerous thing in this room, and she didn’t want to turn her back on him. Still, the best way to extricate all of them from the tension of this situation was to get Link talking. Once they’d all gotten it through their heads that no one was in any immediate danger, then hopefully they could get out of this crypt.

Zelda marched straight to Link, ignoring the dry shuffling and mulchy odor to either side of her, and pointed her finger at him, still holding an arrow in her fist.

“What in the blessed name of Hylia are you doing here?”

“Is this not a reasonable place to take an evening stroll?” Link asked in return.

“Well, it sure does look like everyone’s doing it, doesn’t it?” Zelda countered, annoyed at his levity. “You, me, two trained assassins, the man who’s supposed to destroy Hyrule, and several dozen of the walking dead. Is this some kind of surprise party for my coronation? Because I for one am not enjoying myself.”

“Zelda, listen… ” Link made a pained face and an awkward gesture.

This only added to Zelda’s aggravation. “That’s right, Link, I’m listening, so you better start explaining, right now.”

“I was sent here,” Link responded.

“To save us?”

“Saving you was a happy accident, if you can call any sort of encounter with these things happy. What I meant is that I was sent to guard the entrance to the Temple of Time.”

“To guard it against monsters.”

“Well, no… Not precisely. I was told to stop anyone who tried to approach the temple through the underground passageways.”

“Specifically me,” Ganondorf interjected, pushing his way forward.

“Specifically you.” Link nodded.

“Is that the Master Sword, then?” Ganondorf asked, not wasting words.

“You look different,” Link said, not meeting his eyes. “Is it the beard? It must be the beard.”

“Do you understand what you’ve done by drawing that sword?” Ganondorf growled.

“Don’t act like you’re not involved in this,” Link responded, losing his temper. “I just did what I was ordered to do, and those orders wouldn’t have been necessary if it weren’t for you.”

Ganondorf tensed, startling Zelda. She put a hand on his arm, hoping to calm him.

“Some hero you are,” Ganondorf muttered in a voice so low that only Zelda could hear it.

“I don’t care what my father ordered you to do,” Zelda said, raising her own voice so that it echoed across the chamber. In the brief silence that followed, she could hear the choked groaning of the ReDeads lurking in the shadows. She raised her chin, squared her shoulders, and met Link’s eyes with a fierce gaze. “I am Princess Zelda, Hylia’s descendant, and I am going to the Temple of Time. This man is coming with me, and you are going to escort us there. Do I make myself clear?”

Link grimaced, but he nodded.

Zelda turned to Impa and Nabooru. “You’ve both done well to bring me this far, but you don’t need to go any farther. I absolve you from all responsibility for what happens next. Go back to the castle. I’m sure there are people there who are going to need your skills before the sun rises.”

Impa shook her head. “I wish we could, Princess, but we can’t. It’s started. The sword has been drawn, and the cycle has begun. None of us can go back now.”

Zelda had never seen Impa look so defeated, and Nabooru hung her head at her friend’s side. What Zelda felt at that moment was not courage, and it certainly wasn’t wisdom. She’d gotten caught up in something that she seemed to have no control over, and it made her furious. She glanced at Ganondorf and saw her own anger and frustration reflected in his eyes. A moment of understanding passed between them, and that’s when she found what she was looking for – power.

She faced Link once again, her eyes blazing. “War is breaking out on the eve of my coronation, and I am not wasting another second standing around chatting in the sewer under a graveyard. If we can’t go back, we can only go forward. Take us to the Temple of Time, now.”

( Link to Chapter 25: The Power of the Gods )

[tthetroublemakers]

Greetings/Rules/Guidelines/Muses

Hello, My name is Lucas, He/Them, and I’m 18+ English is not my first language so grammar errors might appear, I apologize.

Main blog is Familyoftwo! Any meme/interaction post I reblog on one of these blogs can be sent to either of them. I don’t want to clog people’s dashboards so I will only reblog it once but it’s open for both blogs.

Rules and Muse info

I am mutuals only when it comes to starter calls but anyone can send memes, if you do there is a big chance I will reply to it and most likely eventually follow you. Non-mutuals can also pop in to my IM and talk and if you have a plot for out characters I’m more than happy to hear it.

Discord are available for mutuals. I do use it for roleplay as well if that’s what someone like.

No one on this blog has any icons yet since they’re all ocs who was made up for discord RP and never needed icons. I’ve been thinking about adding some but so far I haven’t.

Tyler and Jeremy are connected and I have verses where they’re all in the same place but usually I write them separately. 

Tyler’s living arrangements have always been up in the air. He usually is a ‘stick around for a few months before i’m gone again’ person, he’s lived in airbnbs and even in his car. BUT if wanted I can have him stay in one place. (IE he’s part of the same gang as Jeremy and so he lives full time in that city)

Out of all the characters on these blogs there might also be sort of ‘npcs’ that are connected to main muses and these are possible to do some interactions with. Such as Felix who’s connected to Jeremy. It’s not a full muse on the blog, yet.

Do not give me hate or shit for how my characters interact with you. Some of these people are not nice, they will not take shit from anyone and even if there is a ship they are not top notch partners. 

There might be NSFW threads, but everything will be tagged accordingly, if there is something I forget or you feel should be tagged, shoot me an ask/IM and I’ll fix that right away. things will be tagged as “trigger //“

No Godmodding.

I WILL NOT DO ANYTHING NSFW WITH A MINOR. BE IT SMUT OR ANYTHING ELSE.

Replies and RP Guidlines

If you like a starter call of mine please reply to the starter. It sucks having made a starter for someone and it’s left untouched by you. If you don’t like it/want something different just tell me and I’ll change it.

I do not roleplay with someone with the same fc as my character have. I don’t like twin-fc’s There might be exceptions but most likely not.

Sometimes I struggle with inspiration for some threads and find it hard to continue. I will go to you and let you know it’s not working and that we should try drop it and if you want we try something else instead. Me doing this is not against you personally. And of course if you feel like this you are more than welcome to let me know as well.

No forced ships. We can test it out but if it doesn’t work please let it go.

If it takes me forever to reply chances are I missed it, please let me know and I will make sure to put it in my draft or reply to it quickly. I often get distracted by things.

Length of my replies varies, I do try to stay within the same length as your reply but sometimes it will be longer or shorter. I do not expect you to always match my length, but a one-liner reply to a paragraph long response makes it kind of rough.

If there is something in my reply that you don’t like, please let me know and I will change it or just rewrite the reply!

If there is something you’d like me to tag specifically, let me know. I’m bad with tagging triggers because I don’t really have any myself. I usually copy what my partner is trigger tagging but other than that I only tag NSFW usually.

Muse List

Tyler Gray

Kaiden

Jeremy

Main Blog

familyoftwo

Joseph Matthews

Lucas Matthews

[heyhyuck-blog]

Watch Out! (Mark Hogwarts!au)

WHOAAA THIS IS SO FLUFFY I ALMOST DIED OF AWKWARDNESS WHEN WRITING THIS RIP. I’m also pretty sure that there are some errors, I could have checked it a little bit better hahahahahahh anyways enjoy!!

~Anna

Genre: fluff

Characters: Mark Lee, y/n

Tags: none

Word Count: 1,877

At Hogwarts, everyone has a “thing.” For Jaemin, it was potions. For Ten, it was apparating.

Mark’s “thing” was quidditch. He had always been good at quidditch, it was like the seeker position tried out for him instead of the other way around. Actually, Mark was good at a lot of things.

Mark was good at being nice to people, especially Slytherin kids (he didn’t want them to feel left out). He was good at charms, good at studying, good at navigating around Hogwarts, good with the animals on campus.

One thing that Mark was not good at, however, was trying to talk to the Gryffindor quidditch announcer.

“...and he laughed at me when Professor Longbottom caught me sleeping! Gosh, you have to kick Jaemin’s butt during the next Gryffindor and Hufflepuff match. Mark, are you paying attention to me?” Donghyuck asked, waving his hand in front of Mark’s face.

“Wha- oh, yeah, sorry. I was just staring into space.” Mark laughed it off, Donghyuck knew what he was trying to cover up.

“You were looking for Y/N again, weren’t you? Why don’t you just admit it, you’re totally whipped.” Donghyuck took another bite of his sandwich. “I mean, why can’t you just go talk to her? You’re in the same house, you see each other every day.”

“It’s not as easy as it sounds. I mean, I don’t know, she’s just so… cool?” Mark tried to hide his face from embarrassment, Donghyuck just snorted.

“Mark, let me put it this way. If you think Y/N is cool, then you are like a god amongst humans. Everyone loves you, now if you can just talk to them. It’s like how everyone describes spiders, ya know? She’s probably more scared than you are.”

“Did you just compare Y/N to spiders?” Mark laughed at his friend’s silliness.

“That’s beside the point. Look, my cold heart and clueless mind are actually giving you some love advice, I recommend that you take it. Now, this guy has class right now, with Y/N. I’ll be leaving.” Donghyuck said goodbye to Mark, leaving him in the courtyard alone.

******

“Y/N! Hurry it up, you’re the one that wanted to be there early!” Koeun called from outside the Gryffindor dorms, waiting for you.

“I can’t find my scarf!” You called back out, searching around your bed area.

“Then go without it!” Koeun yelled back.

“Alright, alright.” You grumbled. Today’s game was supposed to be cold, too. You just hoped you wouldn’t strain your voice from the shouting mixed with the cool air.

You stepped out of the castle and began down to the quidditch field. As the commentator, you always had to go to the field early, while the teams were still practicing. You always ended up dragging someone along with you, and today it just so happened to be Koeun.

You and Koeun had met through quidditch, actually. Koeun had been watching her friends, Mark and Jeno, warm up before a game and you were the only other person in the stands; you were setting up the sound system. You had ended up talking and becoming close friends because of that.

“I can’t believe you’re dragging me down here in this weather.” Koeun grumbled, wrapping her arms around herself.

“Yeah, yeah. Says the person that comes early a lot just to watch her friends play.” You bumped her shoulder. “Oh, sorry, I got that wrong. You only come to watch Mark play.”

Even though you knew that Koeun didn’t like Mark like that, you liked to tease her for her long time friendship with the fellow fourth year.

“Oh, yeah, I’m the one that watches Mark.” She teased you right back. You weren’t the first one to admit that you enjoyed Mark’s presence. You weren’t close, but you vaguely knew each other through Koeun. In fact, Koeun had offered to properly introduce the two of you, but you were slightly intimidated by his popularity and good looks.

“Hey, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You huffed, mildly embarrassed.

“Yeah, yeah, for sure. Now, go set up the speakers, I’ll go wait in the student section.” Koeun waved a short goodbye and wandered off to the student area of the stadium. You could see the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff teams warming up on opposite sides of the field.

You jogged up to the announcer’s podium and plugged in the speaker underneath the point counter, a short pop letting you know that it was on.

“Alright, now, where is the microphone…” You hunted around the podium, and found the microphone behind the counter. “How did you get th-”

“WATCH OUT!”

Your thoughts were blocked off by the sound of a team member yelling. You looked up just in time to see a bludger coming at what seemed like lightspeed, and a person catching it.

*****

“Hey, Koeun!” Mark waved and shouted from across the field. He was on a break, so he rode his broom over to greet Koeun as she was sitting down in the student section, Jeno following close behind. “Where’s Y/N?”

“Oh, she’s up at the announcer-place-thingy. Getting ready for the game, and all that. Why might you be asking?” Koeun asked, raising an eyebrow at Mark.

“Oh, no reason. Just maybe because he looooooov-” Jeno began, before Mark lunged at him, causing both of them to almost fall off their brooms.

“Called it.” Was all Koeun said, a mildly creepy smile forming on her face.

“What do you mean, called it? I barely even get to talk to her, how would you know? Speaking of which, does she hate me? It’s almost like she avoids me.”

“Oh, please. She doesn’t hate you. I mean, gosh she’s gonna kill me, but she’s basically told me that she lik-”

“WATCH OUT!”

And then, Mark was gone. He made it to the announcer’s podium just in time to catch the bludger headed towards your face.

What he didn’t take into account, however, was just how fast the bludger was going. By the force of the ball, he and his broom were knocked into the announcer’s podium and on top of the announcer herself.

“Holy crap, are you okay?” Mark went up on his knees, taking your hands and helping you off the ground.

“Oh, uh, yeah, I think so. Thanks, that could have been a lot worse.” You giggled a bit, wincing when you felt a sharp pain on the skin on your stomach. On his way down, Mark had accidentally elbowed you there.

Jeno and a few other team members raced up to see what happened and you could hear Koeun running up the steps to the podium. People had begun to file into the stadium, ready for the game to start, and were confused as to why a bunch of Gryffindor players were gathered.

“Yo, Lee, you good? Think you can still play?” The team captain, Johnny, called out from the group on their brooms.

“Oh, yeah, for sure. You sure you’re good, Y/N?” He looked over at you to see your face bright red and looking down.

He looked down as well and saw that your hands were still connected.

“Well, well, Lee, that’s quite the way to win someone’s heart.” One of the other members of the team shouted, earning a roar of laughter from the team. You and Mark disconnected your hands faster than that bludger had come at you. Mark picked up his, thankfully, unharmed broomstick and turned to look at you one more time before riding down to the field to play.

It was only then that Koeun made it up to the podium. “Whoa, what happened? Are you okay? Is Mark okay? Hello, Y/N?” Koeun fired off questions at you, but you weren’t paying attention. You were looking down at your hands, where Mark’s had just recently been. His hands were soft, much larger than yours, and warm.

“Y/N, the game is about to start, you should go and start commentating.” Koeun snapped you out of your dreamworld, guiding you towards the chair you always sat at during games. “I’ll stay here to make sure you’re fine.”

“Right, yeah, that sounds good. Thanks.” You pulled the microphone towards you and began your normal routine.

Your brain was totally clogged throughout the whole game. You missed a few plays and stopped talking a few times. You could only follow Mark on the field.

You wondered if it was a concussion or infatuation.

******

It turns out that it was a little bit of both.

“Well, that’s quite the story. I’m sure that won’t be forgotten any time soon.” The nurse on call at the medical ward laughed with you a bit after the game. You were sitting up in a bed, a warm blanket around your shoulders and a cup of tea mixed with headache medicine in your cold, raw hands.

As you were talking with the nurse, another person wandered his way into the ward.

“Ah, Mr. Lee. I heard about your tumble earlier, are you here for treatment as well?” The nurse asked, standing up from her position on the edge of your bed.

“Ah, no, I’m kinda used to things like that by now. I’m just here to check up on Y/N.” He smiled at the nurse. The tips of your ears began to be tinted pink, your eyes widening.

“Alright, I’ll leave you two to talk. Let me know if you need anything, Y/N.” The nurse patted your hand and left the ward.

“Hey, I heard from Koeun that you have a concussion. Is everything okay?” He asked, standing awkwardly by your bed.

“Yeah, I’m fine, thanks. Are you sure you’re okay?” you asked. “I mean, you were the one that got hit with a bludger.” He laughed a bit at that.

“Yeah, I’m good. Like I said, I’m a chaser. I’m used to it by now.” He smiled, an awkward silence falling in between you two.

“You can sit if you want.” You said quietly, nodding towards where the nurse was previously sitting.

And there, you two talked. You talked about classes, about mutual friends, and about anything else that came to mind.

“So, I wanted to know something.” Mark looked away from you, awkwardly scratching his head. You leaned forward, edging him on. “Uh, so, Koeun sorta… I don’t know, was in the middle of telling me something when you almost got hit. I’m not sure if this is what she was gonna say, but it kinda sounded like she was saying that you liked me.”

Your face turned bright red. “Oh my God, I’m gonna kill Koeun.” You set your mug down on the table next to you and covered your face, begging that Mark couldn’t see how flustered you were.

“It’s okay if you don’t, I mean really, but like, I wouldn’t be complaining if that was the truth.” When you looked back up, Mark’s face was almost as red as yours was.

“Wait, really?” You whispered.

“Yeah.” Mark said. “Do you wanna go into Hogsmeade tomorrow? Together, you know?”

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot.” You smiled, no, grinned at Mark, and his smile back was equally as wide.

[httpjoi]

New Year. New Me. {Peter Pan Imagine}

Part One  Part Two Part Three

Peter Pan Imagine

Author: Joi A. Wade

Tagged: @tmrhollandkay, @ arfrona

Requested: Yes,  HI CAN I HAVE A EXTREME FLUFF IMAGINE WITH ROBBIE KAY OR PETER PAN WHERE YOU GUYS GET INTO A REALLY REALLY BAD FIGHT AND YOU DECIDE YOU GUYS SHOULD BREAK UP AND HES LIKE NO BABE WAIT IM SORRY AND YOURE LIKE NOPE I CANT DO THIS ANYMORE AND THEN YOU LEAVE AND HE CANT FUNCTION WITHOUT YOU SO HE TRIES TO WIN YOU BACK AND IT TAKES A WHILE BUT ONE DAY HE FINALLY WINS YOU BACK EXTREMELY FLUFFY PLEASE

Note: Thank you all for being such amazing people and being patient with me! Thank you for loving my slow ass, and my stories, it means a lot that you guys stick with me!

It’s been a while since Y/n had seen him. Never had she thought the time would come that he’d be finally calling her phone, in such a long period of time. Six an a half years is a long time to wait. Especially for an ex. 

“I’m glad you had time to see me, Y/n. It’s been so long.” 

Y/n smiles politely, looking down at the cup of tea her company had ordered for her. 

“Well, I gotta admit, it was quite the surprise when you called, Newton.” 

“Newt. Please, call me Newt. You’re one of the very few that I allow to, and…I miss how it sounds coming from your mouth.” He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck in nervousness. “S-Sorry, that um..sounded bloody creepy, but you get my point.”

Sighing heavily, her politeness was slowly starting to fade away. She knew what this was, she wasn’t stupid. In the past six years Y/n has gotten not one phone call or text message from this guy, and then all of sudden here he is acting all awkward and charming at the same time. Setting her cup down after taking a short gulp of it, she finally makes eye contact with the man before her.

“Look, Newton. Things didn’t work out between us because you loved your music more than I.” 

“That’s not true-”

“Let me finish,” She holds her hand up, silencing him. “I was understanding, I was fair and actually wanted you to be happy and let you go. I moved on. Which was a mistake, I’ll admit, but it helped my unhappiness turn into something else. I fell in love again. And now that I am once again heartbroken, you decide to turn up, saying sweet nothings to me as if all of what you put me through never happened. Now how is that fair to me? ” 

“Love, I came back for you because I realized my only dream was with you. You were my dream.” 

“Oh, cut the bullshit.” 

Newt’s eyes widen at her venomous tone. Last time he had spoken to Y/n, she had such a sweet demeanor about herself, everything about her was kind and gentle. Earlier on this little gathering she was calm and collected, but now she is speaking to him in such a way he had never heard her speak before. 

“What’s happened to you?” 

“Life, Newton. Life fucking happened to me. You wanna know what I’ve been through? You leave me for your stupid music career, not even returning my calls or emails or letters. Then, when I finally move on to another guy, I find out he’s cheating on me with some bitch for nearly half of the time we’ve been together, then trying to make me seem like the bad guy! And now that I’m somewhat over him, you show the fuck up! Out of nowhere!”

“Love, calm down-”

“Don’t you tell me to calm down! I deserve to be fucking mad! I put up with so much, sticking up for guys that don’t deserve it, and I wonder why I end up the same way! Heartbroken!” By now, she was starting to draw attention to their table, alarming a certain few while the others watched with anticipation. Newt stands up slowly with his hands up, trying not to provoke her any further. 

“Y/n, please, I didn’t mean to struck a nerve-”

“Bullshit!”

“Can you please talk to me without cursing at me, for bloody sake?” 

“I just think it’s a coincidence how you show up, right when I start to get out of my funk and feel better about finally leaving that dickhead. Were you just waiting for the perfect opportunity to make your way back into my life? When I was at my most vulnerable? Well, news flash for you, buddy! The only thing you’re getting from me, are these hands!”

Y/n was about to jump right over the table and tackle the poor, confused, Brit. Luckily, someone was able to grab her by the waist at the right time before she could even cross the table. Holding her close to their chest, Newt was able to take a few steps back, while making eye contact with the person behind her. Y/n squirmed against their hold, until the familiar scent of pine clogged her nostrils. Her squirming ceased. For now.

“Who the bloody hell are you?” 

“Oh, you don’t remember me, Newtie? I’m hurt, I thought we had something special.” 

Once Newt’s eyes actually scanned his face, he glared. Lowering his hands from his self-defense stance, he crossed them over his chest. “Very funny, Pan. I see that you didn’t change at all. Except for getting uglier, of course.”

“And you’re still the same after all these years, as well. Except you’re still single.” 

Y/n pushes away from Peter with great force, nearly knocking him backwards. Straightening out her shirt, she huffs in anger. “What the hell are you doing here? Where’s your little sex toy?” 

Peter drew his attention to Y/n, the playful glint in his eyes turning melancholy. 

“Y/n, I know I am the last person you want to see right now, and I understand that. I was a completely asshole, and deserve to burn in hell for what I did behind your back. But, if you give me a moment to explain-”

“So it’s you.” Newt connects, as a grin started to form on his face. “You’re the one who cheated, while you were still in the relationship with Y/n. Did you honestly think you would get away with that?”

“Can we talk somewhere a little more private, love?” 

“No. And don’t call me that. We can settle this right here, right now. I’ve been waiting to actually kick your ass, now that the tears finally stopped. Do you realize how humiliated you made me feel after that night? How absolutely filthy you left me? And you had some nerve to try and blame me! The only person that saw good in you, cared for you, loved you!” Each word spoken was a shove to his chest, which he happily took. He was just glad that she was actually talking to him. 

“I understand that you are in pain-”

“Oh, you can’t even begin to understand! Giving your love to someone who you thought was the one, only to have it blow up in your face, you have no idea what that feels like!”

“I could’ve warned you in the first place, Y/n. It’s your own fault for thinking a bloke like Pan would ever-” Before he could finish his unneeded input, Y/n picked up his cup of tea and threw what was left of it into his face. It was just hot enough to prove a point: for him to shut the fuck up. “Ahh! Mother of fu-Jesus Christ! Shit, shit, shit, shit! Bloody, burning hell!” 

Newt rushes to find the nearest bathroom, a few workers following behind him, as others just stare in shock or gaze in amusement. Placing the cup back on the table, Y/n turns back to Peter, with rage darkening her eyes. 

“Y/n, I-”

“I thought I told you to stay the hell away from me. How did you even know I was here?” 

“That’s not important, what’s important is us fixing this problem that we have-”

“We don’t have a problem! You do, and only you! I was perfectly happy being with you, I didn’t care what people said about your past relationships because none of that mattered, it’s in the past for a reason! I didn’t care when they called you bad news, I didn’t care that my parents didn’t approve of you, and I didn’t care how much we argued over stupid shit! What I cared about was you, and how much I loved you. You were there when Newt left, you were my friend, someone I could talk to when I needed it. You listened, you cared…And when you asked me out, I thought moving on was too good to be true, but you changed that. And look where it got us! Five fucking years I gave to you, and this whole time that was just a game to you.”

“It wasn’t a game-” 

“Hearing a lot of bullshit today, you know. You knew exactly what you were doing, Peter. And you knew the person you did it with I despised, yet you still did it anyway.” Tears were starting to form in her eyes, as the heat of the moment was dying down and reality was coming back to her. The man that broke her already bruised heart was standing right there, with the guts to say that he didn’t mean what he did. What does he take her for, a fool? 

“Y/n, what I did was unforgivable, we both know that. But, love, I regret it.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? Three words that don’t matter at all to me? I regret giving you my time, mind, body and soul. I regret thinking that scum like you could ever change. I regret loving you, Peter Pan. So I’ll say it again, since you obviously didn’t listen the first time. Stay. The hell. Away. From me.” 

With that said, Y/n left money on the table and took her leave. Storming outside the door, she roughly wiped the single tear that escaped her eye before anyone could see. 

She was so over crying.

But, the sound of the door chimes made her stop only for a second. He seriously could not be trying to chase after her, could he? The rapid footsteps confirmed that prediction, making her bite the inside of her cheek, to stop herself from doing anything she’ll regret. Again. 

“Y/n, please! You gotta listen to me, love-”

“I don’t want anything to do with you, Peter. Just crawl back to wherever you came from, and forget we ever existed. Let me move on! Live your own life, so I can get on with mine!”

“Y/n, baby, I’m begging you!”

“Nothing you can say or do will change my mind, Peter-!” 

“ M A R R Y   M E ! ” 

In that moment…everything just stops.

From the noisy traffic, to the beating of her own heart. 

It was silent.

With her covered mouth agape, Y/n stands there in complete and utter disbelief. Seeing that he now had her attention, Peter slowly descended to one knee, staring up at her with eyes that were filling with tears. 

“Y/n L/n. Will you marry me?”  

[danwetzelsports]

In lieu of the above video (courtesy of @nickkrause08) showing the friendly skies turning into fight club – not to mention all the other airline incidents of late – I am updating my recent post/rant on the worst people you’ll meet on your flight.

  Hint: it isn’t the flight attendants, TSA agents or that overstressed/underpaid woman working the gate.

  As noted in the first post, flying can be stressful and disappointing. I get it. I’ve flown over one million miles on Delta/Northwest alone and probably hundreds of thousands on other airlines. I’ve been to airports big and small, in airplanes big and small and seated next to passengers big and small. I’ve been stranded, abandoned and slept one night in a chair inside the Minneapolis airport. Whatever horror story you have, there’s a good chance I can match it.

  Still, come on people. We have an actual brawl on an airplane? This is the discount flight from Burbank, not the prison yard. If someone disrespects you, chill. In fact, always chill. Your flight will go better. And sleep. And shut up. The other passengers don’t want to talk to you. Trust me.

  Somehow the public momentum is to defend the customers and blame everything on the airlines. No, it’s usually us, the passengers.

  Remember the woman whose baby almost got bumped because the flight attendant was trying to remove a doublewide stroller she wanted to bring down the aisle? Could have been handled better but … why the hell were you trying to bring a doublewide stroller onto a plane when it clearly and always is prohibited?

  How about the woman who went to the media because flight attendants wouldn’t let her go to the bathroom while the fasten seat belt light was on and instead handed her a cup? Pretty funny story, but there is a reason why they have a fasten seatbelt light. It isn’t safe to wander around the plane. You can disagree with their judgment – there are many policies on board that make no sense. That’s still the deal. It’s probably a federal law. This isn’t your living room. You want full control of your actions? The interstate is right over there.

  And yes, getting bumped from flights happens but the practice of overselling planes is good for customers, because it helps lower costs and allows more people each day to book flights.

  Airline travel is amazing – amazingly safe, amazingly convenient and amazingly cheap. Perfect. Not at all. Anyone who expects perfect, let alone on a $119 supersaver, is a fool.

  So here are my updated and now expanded nine worst people on a plane (in no particular order). And I’m not even getting to the obvious ones such as belligerent drunks or the would-be UFC brawlers in the video or the barking dogs – no dogs other than guide dogs should be allowed in the damn main cabin, by the way. Give me a break with the “comfort pet.”

  1. Starbucks Lady

  It’s a 6:30 a.m. cross-country flight and you felt the need to get a Venti double Frappuccino or whatever that creation is? Not only are you going to spend the first hour of the flight sucking loudly through a straw, but that creation has enough caffeine and sugar to drop a horse. Look lady, no one is asking you to fly the plane. Exactly how alert do you need to be?

  You want to know how to make air travel better? Go to sleep. Flight goes faster, you don’t need to be entertained, you can ignore the other passengers and you catch up on some rest (fitful, but whatever). Don’t tell me you can’t sleep on planes between a gargle of Starbucks. You have to have a plan – turn off electronics, read a book, avoid stimulants. It isn’t hard. I feel for like 6-foot-10 guys, but you aren’t that.

  Don’t book a window seat, drink a massive coffee and then wonder why you are as fidgety as a kindergartener, unable to sleep and have to get up three times to go to the bathroom – thus bothering the rest of us.

  2. Big bag guy

  It ain’t going to fit, buddy. Maybe it’s compensating for other parts of their life. Maybe they just really think they are going to get over on the airline for that $25 baggage fee. Whatever it is, that massive roller isn’t getting into the tiny overheard compartment.

  These guys are the worst. They push and slam and bitch and moan. The people already seated below them are panicked and jostled. Some properly sized bag is inevitably getting crushed up there.

  The guy gets angrier and angrier as he tries to defy the laws of physical space. Soon he’s regaling everyone about that time the airline lost his luggage in Albuquerque – cry me a river, we’re not on your side.

  Then the poor flight attendant has to come by and tell him he needs to check it (for free) and he gets mad at them. Everyone’s stress goes up. Look, pay the fee or pack less. It’s simple. How much crap you need for this weekend in Erie?

  The baggage fee thing is horrible but they have to do it because all you fools will only pay for the cheapest flight that comes up on Expedia. Then you complain when the flight isn’t luxurious like it supposedly used to in the Mad Men days or something. It’s like someone buying a Chevy Spark and then bitching it isn’t as roomy as a Cadillac Escalade.

  3. Idiot/Patriot in the TSA line

  You know these people are there to stop us from getting blown up, right? Imperfect system but it’s the best we’ve got. No matter what you think, TSA agents want to get rid of you as quickly as possible. They are trying to be professional under impossible circumstances.

  So, can you please pay attention? September 11 was over a decade and a half ago … the freakin’ laptop has to come out of the bag. Yes, a cell phone is a metal item. And actually I am not surprised that your oversized belt buckle caused the x-ray to ping. It’s not shocking at all.

  This isn’t that hard. Follow the stupid rules. You’re slowing up the line because you are a clown.

  The only people worse are the ones who believe the TSA is infringing on their Constitutional rights with that there new-fangled body scanner or a pat down or merely existing. What, you think I’m a terrorist? If you’re that into your privacy, then cool. Just find a better way to get the woods of Idaho.

  Twitter follower @FakeKevinKugler added a subset to this: the person who was sent to TSA PreCheck but decides to clog everything up by stripping down anyway. You undeservedly reached the promised land and this is how you act? Pay attention.

  (Then again, TSA PreCheck should not just be handed out randomly like it is these days. Change that rule, TSA.)

  4. Burrito Bowl Dude

  Tight connections and long trips can mean there is limited time to get a meal at the airport. And we know you aren’t getting anything substantive in coach. So people bring food on the plane.

Here’s a tip. Maybe on those days, you just have a protein bar. Or eat right away as you wait for everyone else to board. Not these people. They have to bring an elaborate, often sloppy meal, let it sit in a bag for an hour stinking up the place and then pull it out and try to spread out.

  There’s usually some assembly required, some salsa to pour over, some Sriracha or salad dressing. Then a knife and fork come out. You need the dexterity of Houdini to eat this thing in such a small space so rice or lettuce is inevitably flying everywhere and chicken is spilling and it’s a massive mess.

  You’re bothering me now. I don’t care if it’s good.

  5. Drink Cart Enthusiast

  They need to get rid of the drink cart on all flights under like two hours. It’s a rolling debacle. If you are so desperate for hydration or a tiny snack then buy your own.

  Yet they pull that thing out and people act like dogs that just saw their master walk in with the treat jar.

  You’ve never had a Diet Coke before? A package of five to six pretzels? I have had people wake me up to let me know the drink cart is here so I wouldn’t miss out.

  The drink cart blocks the aisle, slams knees and elbows and generally only gives the customers something else to bitch about because they didn’t get the whole can or found the peanuts an unsatisfying meal. You know, back in the day they used to carve up steak. Yeah, well, back in the day flights cost a thousand bucks and planes crashed all the time.

  I once had a 37-minute flight to Indianapolis delayed for 1:45 because “catering” needed to restock the drink cart. That means we could have flown to Indy, deplaned, slammed a beer at the airport bar, reboarded and returned.

  6. Maintenance Know-It-All Guy

  I’m as suspicious as anyone when they announce that the flight is being delayed for maintenance because I assume they use that excuse to cut down on complaints. You know why? Because it works.

  Or it should except for the guy standing in the gate area who immediately starts huffing and arguing that there is no maintenance issue and it’s a big conspiracy. Really, how exactly do you know? Congrats to you if you truly are so proficient in diagnosing a $300 million airplane that you don’t even have to look at it to draw your conclusion. If you really enjoy such a skillset, however, maybe you should make a career out of that rather than schlepping to Des Moines with the rest of us. Seems like something that would pay well.

  You don’t want them to check and make sure the plane is working properly? You’re troubled by an airline that demands all the parts and emergency back-ups are working.

  You do realize what the alternative is, correct? If you think you’re late for your cousin’s wedding weekend now …

  7. Delusions of Grandeur in 38B

  Many Twitter followers mentioned this one. You’re way in the back of the plane yet somehow believe once the plane arrives at its destination and pulls up to the skybridge that you’ll somehow beat the crowd and race off the plane first. I get the desperation to make a connecting flight, but it isn’t happening. Usain Bolt couldn’t charge the aisle fast enough to make it. Accept reality and wait your turn.

  8. Frequent flyer poser

  Submitted by Twitter follower @BoneilHoops is: “The guy that tells you how much he travels – has Gold Medallion bag tag.”

  Ah yes, the “sort-of” frequent flyer who loves to yell at the gate agent or flight attendant about how much of a valued customer they are when, well, they really aren’t that valued of a customer. They gave George Clooney in the movie his own number to call for a reason. They gave you an easily identifiable bag tag and you may have gotten that by falling for their credit card deal, not actually flying.

  I once heard a guy complaining to a gate agent about not getting an upgrade and asked what he needed to do to get upgraded to first class. This was on a flight to Europe no less. The woman calmly said, “fly our airline more.” Classic. 

9. Boarding Group Z Gate Blockers

  More Twitter recommendations: apparently these people, who crowd around and block the boarding gate even though their group isn’t getting called for awhile, are referred to as “gate lice.” I had no idea, but it works.

  They have a process to get on the plane. The Diamond Medallion and First Class people go first. Deal with it. If you find yourself in Group 7 or whatever, get the hell out of the way. Standing in front of the little ropes that lead to the ticket scanning machine when you aren’t getting on for the next 20 minutes assures only one thing, it will take even longer to get on.

  This is a partial list. In summary, as much as I sometimes hate airline bureaucracy, I hate you people even more – not enough to have a fist fight in row 18 over it, but still.

[trueaxpha]

Please, this is just my own personal rant. This is NOT directed at any individual and I am not looking for a fight. I am simply getting my feelings and thoughts down in writing to help me vent. I'll ensure this is tagged appropriately and put under a 'Read More' to ensure it doesn't clog the dash and/or offend or annoy anyone with my ramblings.

 I don't know about you but I feel entirely betrayed by a series of which I've poured my heart and soul into over the years. I've smiled, laughed, cried, grown and very much enjoyed Teen Wolf for as long as I can remember. I always remember being so skeptical about the show, especially after it's release around the time of Twilight and other supernatural themed films and shows. I didn't need another grumpy, romantic, angsty teen flick in my life so I darted around the show until it's third season came to play and I needed something to fill the void Being Human left after it's final episode aired over here in the UK - another series I hold very deeply in my heart. 

 And no, before you start tutting and saying 'oh no, you're one of them that started at season three!' I didn't, instead they randomly aired an episode from the first series here in the UK. I must of tuned in around half way through the episode and it was the scene where Scott's trying to howl into the school speaker system and it'll always be the most memorable moment for me. Just in that small scene I got to see both Scott and Stiles' personalities and thought 'wow, these two are quite the little duo - maybe this isn't what I thought at all.' So, I checked out the season from the start - having to watch everything online because there was no possible way to watch the series here and suddenly I was hooked. I finished the first two season very quickly, before moving onto the third. 

 And the third season stole my heart. 

The acting, the storylines, the comedy, the character development and the way the introduced new characters to the fold worked so wonderfully. It was as if this series had found its feet. It's characters were strong and bold which a lot of teen dramas struggle with, most feel wishy washy and very centred around who's dating who and love arcs like that. Now yes, there have been love arcs from the start but they were done in such a way that they didn't feel too forced or felt fake. I admit, myself felt the Allison/Scott relationship felt a little forced in the first few episodes of the first season but was to be expected. However, it blossomed into this forbidden love that worked so well. I especially liked the way both went their separate ways: Allison/Isaac and Scott/Kira - both discovering more of themselves with these new relationships then coming around full circle again during the closet scene where both still clearly have feelings for each other and ultimately - Allison's Death. 

 Now, I'll be the first to admit and first to hold my hands up but when they introduced Malia as a recurring character I simply wanted to tear my hair out every time I saw her on screen. I don't know what it was about her, but she bugged the hell out of me at first and I found the sudden relationship with Stiles to be waaaay in my face and unnecessary (after all, I was always the one who wanted Stiles to be the single pringle forever because it felt relatable at the time and the 'I need to get laid now act' was priceless!). However, my opinion has changed greatly over the years - not only by my own understanding of their relationship but also the Malia rp'ers on her who actually opened my eyes to her character and let me love her so deeply. Their relationship is so important. Malia is Stiles' almost first everything (visa versa) and Stiles' keeps her so grounded, teaching, learning and loving. All of which has been forgotten this season. 

 If I was Scott on this season, trying to remember my best friend I would do absolutely anything in my power to get that person back (and this only lightly occurred last night). Sleepless nights, pouring over books, the endless agony of not knowing, the emotion - none of this has been shown! Scott has simply sat this season with nothing more than a wooden expression upon his face and no input into actually helping find his best friend and this is all down to poor writing. What happened to Scott McCall that saved everyone? That'd get so frustrated when he didn't have an answer, that'd do anything in his power to save the day and the people of beacon Hills? Where's he gone?! In the early seasons of Teen Wolf, Scott showed so much emotion and even a little bit of snark which was lost over the years, especially when he picked up the alpha role but I haven't felt Scott as the alpha this season or even last. He's character has simply weakened over the last couple of seasons and now feels like a background character - Even Liam has wolfed out more than Scott this season! I'm deeply saddened Tyler Posey hasn't picked up on this, or dare I say it 'hasn't cared' for his character considering he's been producing the last couple of series too. Scott was the most relatable to me early on, even if Stiles stole my heart first, Scott was the one I'd always come back to - his constant fight and good will which has sadly faded along with the strength of his character. If I had control over this season, I would simply ask that Scott had more drive in saving his best friend and perhaps even break that moral code and kill to get to him (character development and angst aftermath of it after, do I smell AU?). 

 Another factor I loved about this show was the relationship between Scott and Stiles which in my opinion IS the most important relationship of the series. But where has that all gone? Who are the first two characters you witness way in the beginning? Scott and Stiles. Circumstances: I'm gonna climb the roof of my best friends house to tell him about a body in the woods and OH SHIT IM HANGING FROM YOUR ROOF - hi Scott! This beautiful and comical entrance to the series was the most brotherly/best friend way to kick it off. Of course, they're relationship didn't need to do too much growing as it was already a pre-established relationship but we watched it become stronger, ultimately break for a bit before working things out. I am glad the winter finale gave us a lot more of these two as it's been entirely lacking over the course of the season. Lydia seemed to be the one getting her input in first before Scott which, in my opinion was a poor choice on the writers part. Scott has been there from day one, they're basically brothers whereas Lydia has barely shown any interest up until this point and is suddenly on the 'I love Stiles train'. Again, another topic for discussion later on. I definitely glad Scott (and Liam too) was the first one to see Stiles upon returning, I was glad of little past nods and I'm glad the winter finale ended the way the series started all those years ago; together. 

 Now I'll be the first one to throw my hands up and say 'yes, I was excited for some Stydia this season' or 'yeah they could be pretty cute together'. From the teasers and trailers, I was potentially looking forward to saying 'yes, he got the girl.' But something changed, I wasn't greeted with tiny little nods to a potential relationship, instead I received a disgusting, trashy love story that didn't really exist up until this point and it was constantly pushed down my throat every single episode. I feel like, writers gave into fan demands (and is what often kills shows by the way) and gave us this unnatural relationship. I found it uncomfortable to watch, I found the kiss last night uncomfortable to watch, when they were trying to bring Stiles back was uncomfortable to watch. I found myself grimacing and often throwing my phone down when I watched an episode. I my opinion, their relationship has been established on nothing. Lydia who blanked Stiles from the very beginning, Stiles' - can we say light stalking? - from early on and a teenage desire to want someone. Yes, Stiles was the one to know how clever Lydia was, yes they had that kiss in the locker room but that was never touched on again that season, nor much in 4 from what I recall. It was picked up again around the end of season 5 but then bang, smack, wallop - they may as well have matching tattoos and a shared freaking Facebook account by 6. It was far too much this season and far what the season depended on to get its viewers. It made me feel Lydia, who has definitely grown over the seasons and felt stronger, like she was simply the damsel in distress and who physically couldn't cope because Stiles wasn't there - a trait far from the Lydia I know and love. 

 I was also very miffed at the way they dealed with Stalia. It wasn't well handled last season and was almost if not entirely forgotten that they actually had a relationship over this season. I believe it was left simply as a relationship that fizzled out and now we won't say more about it. Okay, I get that that happens in real life - hey I've never had a relationship where I've felt connected to the other but for these two, it just didn't give me justice. That relationship was the first for both of them so it was going to be important right? Relationships end, I get that but those two had a connection. It was simply left at 'I think we broke up' and that was that. No questions asked, let's move along. If it was me, I'd like to of seen the relationship dissolve with an actual break up - therefore at least giving them closure to move on. Instead, it was another wishy washy storyline left to fizzle out. 

 I don't know about you, but have the stories felt like they lacked that wow factor after season 3? Season 4 was okay at first, I enjoyed it more after a second viewing. I struggled to get through season 5 - bland storyline, too many characters, too many side quests to watch and again, haven't liked this season either. Now either I'm getting old, critical and becoming Stan Marsh (You're Getting Old) or the writing is just getting lower in quality. This season felt incredibly rushed, and yes I guess it's down to Dylan's accident on the Maze Runner set - so things needed to be changed and so on but it became repetitive, drawn out and lacking in enjoyment. The writers have a lot to think about now, after all this season was riddled with plot holes and continuity errors and basically forgetting basic canon plot and details from older episodes - lazy lazy writing. I definitely haven't been wowed, I mean there's still as chance to in the summer but I just can't see this series ending with the wow factor anymore which is sad to say. 

 But like I said, I feel betrayed - almost robbed of a perfect ending to what once was a fantastic series. Of course I know this isn't going to change, what's done is done but I feel they owed it to the fans to put out their best. I can keep going, I really can but I feel I've already said too much.