#I don’t have a specific voice for Nate but I have a voice in my head for Kari

[headfullof-ideas]

Thinking about the Nektons and their ethnicities, the languages they might speak, and Dark Orca Dynasties post about Australian Kathryn, and then thought about her husband, who might be French? Jacques is a French name, could Jacques be French or part French? I’m headcanoning him as at least part French now, or at least growing up there.

Now on to the point of this post. What accents do the Nektons have? Kaiko and Will are from different cultures and ethnicities and likely raised in different parts of the world, and they and their children travel all over the world since Ant and Fontaine were either born or very very little. SO, I don’t think they all have just one kind of accent

Will: Had a mix of an Australian and French accent as a kid, and it petered off as he got older and started moving to other places. It’s still there in the subtext, but it’s not too thick. Can kind of affect a poor Japanese accent due to trying to win over Kaiko’s parents. His accent gets really heavy when he’s flirting with Kaiko or REALLY tired or mad. When he’s speaking another language he tries to affect the accent it’s spoken in, to varying degrees of success

Kaiko: A mixture of Japanese and Greek (her great grandmother was Mediterranean and Kaiko spent a lot of time in that area growing up with her great grandmother and friends there, so she picked up a bit of the accent). She has a bit of an American accent as well, due to lots of her coworkers in the World Oceans Authorities having that accent which she started subconsciously picking up on. Her accent is pretty light due to her time at the WOA, but it gets prominent when she’s relaxed and heavy when she’s mad

Ant and Fontaine: Nobody knows what Heck kind of accent they have. They were surrounded by so many different accents and languages growing up that they just have a kaleidoscope of accents smushed into one weirdly indiscernible accent. You pick up something or another here or there, but they don’t have one dominant accent. More a mix of their parents and extended families wide variety of accents. It gets stronger here or there depending on what words they use, or how mad they get. They are also really good at picking out someone’s faint accent by ear, or learning an accent they don’t have by ear as well

And then just because, Nate and Kari’s accents

Nate has the same accent as the coastal town that he lives in, which sees a wide variety of people coming through due to tourism and the fact the town he lives in serves as a destination stop for the occasional cruise ship. He has the tiniest bit of an Italian accent as well from his Italian grandmother, though it’s not noticeable until some cooking crime occurs in his vicinity or he gets super excited and rambly.

Kari has an American accent, specifically from the midwestern region where she grew up. Her family lives in Seattle, where she also lived for most of her adolescence, when she wasn’t with her dad at the Nektons base in the summers. As she spent more time there as she got older, she picked up a little bit of the accent from that area (same as Nate’s) but nothing too crazy or noticeable. More like a subtext, and some specific ways of saying words here or there.

[hysteria-things]

can you do a nate fluff w/ some smut where it's him and the triplets little sister and theyre dating and he keeps wanting to be close to her in but they're in a video so he has to wait and the fans notice when the video comes out? this wasn't specific at all so sorry 😭

SNEAK AWAY (part one)

read part two here

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: soft dom!nate x sls!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: six of you are on a trip in hawaii! the only downside is that your triplet brothers don’t know you’re dating their best friend.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, FLUFF, swearing, praising

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,208

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i need this man (biblically)

ALSO i have not forgotten about promise it’ll be continued i just want to get through some of my inbox first!

hawaii is a beautiful place. you truly never want to leave.

this trip is for madi’s eighteenth birthday, and you were practically begged to come. not only you, but nate came along, too.

the thing about nate is that you’re in love with him. literally.

you guys have been dating for roughly seven months, and nobody knows about it. it’s only a thing between you and him.

it genuinely feels nice for it to be you and his thing, but it does get annoying because you have to sneak around.

personally, you wouldn’t mind if your brothers never found out. they can’t kill you, but they will hawk nate and kill him.

glancing around the store, you fidget with the straps of your tank top. “nate, come on.”

he glances at you and then back at the condom boxes. the triplets are vlogging the trip thus far, and you guys walked away to come over to this section.

“nathan.”

he sighs, grabbing a box. “you worry about them too much, baby. we’re fine.”

“they can turn down one of these aisles any second and we’ll be busted.�� you whisper-yell, pointing around the store.

he chuckles, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “they’re loud. i’m sure we’ll hear them coming before something bad happens.”

he continues to look at you and smiles.

you cross your arms, bumping a hip out. “what?”

“you’re cute when you’re mad.” he takes his finger and flicks it under your chin before the two of you walk over to the counter and place the condoms on it. you’re still looking around, but there are no same-faced people in sight.

the woman working eyes the both of you, a subtle smirk on her face before scanning the box and putting it in a bag.

he pays for it, and just as you guys turn around you hear voices. “hey guys.” nick greets, looking down at the bag. “what’d you get?”

“some deodorant. i forgot mine at home.” nate answers, nudging your arm softly.

the man-children are recording themselves playing with a ball in an open grass area by the hotel, you and madi watching them from afar. you sigh annoyingly, looking down at your watch.

“i’m going to go up to the room,” you yell, cupping your hands around your mouth so they can hear. they stop playing, focusing now on you. “need to go to the bathroom.”

they give you the okay, and before you know it you’re walking into the hotel suite.

you scroll on your phone, a few minutes passing by before the door opens. you grin widely, nate shutting the door behind him.

he comes over to you and snakes his arms around your waist to pull you close. “i missed you.”

you giggle. “you just saw me.”

sighing, he pulls you into a kiss. the way your mouths move in sync has you craving more. this is the first time you guys are alone, let alone a kiss that’s not a millisecond long.

he pulls away and lifts you, your legs dangling on his sides so he can take you to the bed he’s sharing with chris.

sorry in advance, chris.

he lays you down, kissing your jaw before taking off your shorts. “how much time do you think we have?” you ask.

he shrugs. “like i said before, they’re loud. we’ll hear them coming.”

you blush at his boston accent, one much stronger than yours and your brother’s. even though you’ve heard him talk a hundred times, it’ll always make your heart flutter.

he leaves wet kisses up your chest and neck while he pulls down his bottoms. his kisses finalize on your lips. “i love you a lot.”

you bite your lip, smiling. “i love you too.”

he reaches into the plastic bag he put on the nightstand and grabs the condom box. he rips off one of them and opens it, putting it on when he throws the wrapper somewhere on the ground.

your hands run along his back as he starts to thrust into you, low moans leaving your body.

nate’s thrusts are soft and slow, but it feels more intimate and comforting. you hate the phrase ‘making love’, but it seems like you’re doing just that.

he leans down to kiss you passionately again, his hands flat next to your head. he pulls away, his nose rubbing against yours.

breathing heavily, he moves his hips at a medium pace, going deeper inside of you and just about hitting your g-spot.

your sounds are more high-pitched now, with some profanities flowing through the air as well.

“na—” you begin but get cut off by a gasp once that spot is hit. you throw your head back and arch, balling your hands up to fists. “oh my god.”

“wait just a second, okay?” he rasps out, followed by a groan of his own. “you’re so fucking pretty.”

he hits inside you harder since he’s close to his orgasm and you whimper at how good it feels.

“i’m cumming, baby,” he says before jutting his hips one last time and releasing into the condom.

one last moan and you’re spilling around him. he pulls out, laying on top of your chest as you guys breathe in sync. “imagine they walk in right now?” he jokes.

you slap him on the chest. “better knock on wood, nathan, or we’re going to have some serious issues.”

madi’s birthday rolls around the next day, and it’s the late morning as you guys sit on the couch. your legs are crisscrossed as madi is on her knees.

the four boys are doing some activities outside before all of you go out later for birthday dinner, but you girls want to stay inside in the cool air.

face masks are on your faces, still dressed in pajamas as you guys also paint your nails. “i’m so happy to have another girl around. growing up with four older brothers was not easy.”

she looks up from her painting and gives you a toothy smile before she clears her throat. “can i ask you something?”

“sure.”

“are you sleeping with nate?”

you pause mid-stroke, now looking at the girl across from you.

you chuckle nervously, putting the brush back into the polish. “why do you ask?”

“by the way he ran after you yesterday when you were going back to the room, i knew something was up.”

you hesitate, but you have to tell at least one person. madi you can trust with anything. “not… entirely.”

“what?” her eyes bulge out of her sockets, not expecting you to admit it. “are you like in love with him or something?”

you try to hide your smile, but your face turning beat red gives you away.

her mouth hangs open. “no. way.”

“we’re dating.” you start. “we have been for about seven months. we started talking on my birthday last year, and it escalated from there.”

“omg!” she squeals. “this is the best birthday gift i’ve ever received and it doesn’t even involve me.”

you laugh. “please don’t tell my brothers. they’ll have a heart attack if they find out.”

she zips her lips and throws the key. “my lips are sealed, unlike your le—”

“quit it.”

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @r4iyaa @sturniolotriplettoplover @mattybswife @freshsturns @loverrsposts @saturncanyon

[bingwriterxo]

the shakespeare exhibit - part 7

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: in which tara accompanies you to a family party

warnings: homophobia/biphobia

word count: 4100+

author's note: longest thing i've ever posted. also, had to look up so many specific quotes for this one...

previous part | next part

"So, how many people did you say will be at this party?” Tara asked, looking out the window as you drove down another dirt road. Ever since the two of you had passed the city and made it off the highway, it had been all cornfields, farms, and forests. Tara knew one thing for sure: she would never live in the countryside of New York, even if you wanted to.

You shrugged behind the wheel, reaching out to lower the music a bit. One of Tara’s more ‘pop-y’ songs was on, and the bass was loud. “I’m not really sure,” you said, sparing her a glance before refocusing on the road ahead of you. “My parents know a lot of people, but I’m sure it won’t be more than…two hundred?”

Two hundred people?! Tara thought, her eyes widening. I have to meet two. hundred. people?!

“Don’t worry, though,” you continued quickly. “Only about fifty of that is family; the rest are family friends or work acquaintances, so you won’t have to talk to them if you don’t want to.”

Thank fucking god. “And can you give me a run down on the more immediate family again?”

“Well, there’s mom and dad, obviously.” You took a left, not bothering with your blinker because there was no one else around. However, rather than more dirt road, your tires were finally rolling against pavement. “Nathaniel and Edmund--but, you can’t call him ‘Edmund’; you have to say ‘Eddie’, or he’ll get upset.”

“And they’re identical, right?”

Trees were lining the pavement, perfectly spaced apart and shaped, and Tara readied herself to be met with your house. Except…it never came. You just kept driving and driving, and it seemed like there was no end in sight.

You nodded. “Yup--identical. You’ll be able to tell them apart, though. It’s easy.” You hummed as you thought. “Oh, baby Cordelia, of course, but only my father calls her by her full name.”

Your baby sister, Cordelia, or Lia, as she was called by most, was turning a year old that day, which was why you and Tara had made the drive up to your parents’ house. They were throwing a party for her, and an extravagant one at that.

“And then my father’s parents: Grandma Jane and Grandpa Thomas. They live in the house with everyone, but odds are you won’t meet them today. They like to spend their time in the wine cellar when we have guests.” You leaned toward her just slightly, like you were about to tell her a secret. “Grandpa Thomas has never been the biggest fan of…people. He’s a book guy, you know?”

Mom, dad, Nate, Eddie, Lia, Jane, Thomas. Tara nodded to herself as she made the mental note, determined not to get anyone’s name wrong. “Okay, and--”

Finally, your house started to show in the distance, and Tara’s jaw literally dropped. Even from where the two of you were, it was huge, and not just rich-person-huge but old-money-huge.

It was a large, shapely building made of blue brick; two large, white pillars stood near the front entrance and extended all the way up to the roof; windows upon windows were lined in white to match the rest of the house; vines flowed down from the roof, though they were neat and calculated, giving the house an old-vibe rather than a messy one.

Holy. Fucking. Shit, Tara thought as your house--if it could even be called a house--drew closer and closer. She stared in awe as you drove the two of you around the circular driveway, centered around a gorgeous fountain, and to the parking area, which was already overflowing with cars.

Once you parked, you turned to her, glancing down sheepishly. “I know it’s a lot,” you said, your voice soft. “The house, the party, the meeting everyone.” You inhaled deeply. “If you feel uncomfortable about anything at any time, just let me know and we can hide in my bedroom, okay? Or, if you need a moment alone, it’s up the stairs, to the right, fourth door on your left.”

She’s just too perfect. Tara grinned, that type of grin she only ever had when she was with you, and leaned across the center console, pressing a kiss to your lips. “I’m sure it’ll be great, baby.”

You flushed, the way you always did whenever she kissed you, even though she had kissed you a million times at that point; she never tired of the way the red painted your cheeks, or how you’d smile subconsciously.

“Okay.” You nodded and kissed her again for good measure. “Then let’s do this.”

You climbed out of the car, rounded the hood, and opened the door for Tara to step out. Always so chivalrous, she thought, grabbing the present that she had brought for your sister from the floor of your car. It was just a small toy, and she suddenly started to second-guess it as you led her toward the entrance.

As soon as she stepped into the house, marble flooring beneath her feet, she gulped. There were at least a hundred people there already, all having traveled to celebrate your baby sister, and they were scattered around, talking and laughing and drinking champagne. She was glad she had worn her nicest dress for the occasion, but even that didn’t seem nice enough.

I do not belong here, her mind whispered.

Before she could even utter a single word to you, all eyes turned, smiles and grins and furrowed eyebrows and tilted heads watching your every move. This is like a creepy cult movie. She glanced at you, somewhat surprised that you were relaxed as you waved.

“Hi, everybody!” you said, and there was a chorus of greetings in response.

Then, suddenly, there was pounding coming from upstairs, and two heads peeked over the banister, gleaming grins on each of their faces and identical in every way--except for their hair, Tara noticed quickly; one had his hair sticking out every which way while the other’s was combed down neatly.

“Y/N’s home!” the messy-haired one shouted. All eyes turned to them, fond smiles on everyone’s face as they stared up at the boys.

“‘A victory is twice itself when the achiever brings home full numbers!’” the other yelled. Okay, well, that one’s Nate, Tara thought, and she watched as they bounded down opposite stairs, their legs carrying them quickly so they could be the first to truly greet you.

They rammed into your waist, making you stumble back as you held them close. “Hi, boys,” you giggled, and everyone--everyone--laughed at the joy that was radiated from the three of you before going back to their conversations.

You hugged your brothers tightly before pushing them away slightly. You took Tara’s hand in your own, and her heart fluttered at the feeling of your warmth against her skin. “Nate, Eddie, this is Tar--”

“The girlfriend!” Eddie cheered.

Nate followed up with, “She’s beautiful, and therefore to be wooed!”

Does this kid only speak in Shakespeare? Tara wondered. Is that even possible?

“Hi, guys,” Tara said, smiling. “Nice to meet you.”

“To mingle friendship far is mingling bloods,” Nate replied.

“What this dork means,” Eddie started, elbowing his brother, “is that we can’t wait for you to become our sister-in-law!”

Sister-in-law?! She glanced at you, and you cleared your throat, unraveling your hand from hers and placing it on the small of her back. “Eddie, Nate, go find Nana and Pops.” You leaned down and whispered something to them, and both boys nodded fervently before rushing away.

“So, you talk about me to your brothers?” Tara teased, grinning at you.

You rolled your eyes lightly, carefully guiding her further into the house. “Don’t listen to a word they say. They’re--well, you met them.” A handful? she thought. Yes.

You passed by people, sparing short greetings or simple waves, until you stood with Tara in the kitchen. “And don’t mind Nate’s speech,” you said, chuckling. “He’s been in Shakespeare-mode ever since he got that part in the play. He only talks in quotes now, no matter what play they’re from.”

She hummed. “Reminds me of someone I know,” she said, leaning up to kiss you.

Just as you began to lean down, there was an excited squeal, and you pulled back quickly, eyes wide and landing on whoever had interrupted you.

“Mom!” you rushed out, blushing. Tara spun around, a nervous smile on her lips as she stared at your mother, who grinned right back.

“You must be Tara, sweetheart!” your mom said, pulling Tara into a hug. Okay! I guess this is a hugging family! She placed her hands on Tara’s shoulders, looking at her. “You’re even prettier than Y/N said!”

“Hi, ma’am--”

Your mother waved her off. “Oh, please. Just call me ‘mom’.” She grinned, and Tara realized that you had her smile. “I’m sure you’ll be in this family soon enough.” Tara felt herself pink at the words. I sure hope so.

“Mom!” you groaned from behind.

Your mom hummed. “Yes, well, I was just coming to grab another apple for your father. You know him,” she said. “Eats like he’s a horse,” she whispered to Tara.

You perked up at the mention of your dad. “Oh, Tara! Let’s go see him. I’m sure he has Lia, right, mom?”

“Yes, yes.” She was digging around the fridge. “I was so sure I bought more,” she muttered to herself.

You sidled up beside Tara and took her hand, leading her toward a different area of the house. There were even more people there, standing around one object and cooing. You squeezed past them all, offering ‘hello’s’ and ‘nice to see you’s’ as you did.

“Dad!” you exclaimed when your father came into view, Lia in his arms.

“Ah, the prodigal daughter returns,” your dad hummed. He wrapped an arm around you in a hug before handing you your sister. “Watch your hair,” he warned. “She’s in her pulling phase.”

As if on cue, Lia reached up and tugged at your ear, giggling when you groaned. “Lia! No pulling,” you mumbled. Tara grinned, butterflies stirring in her stomach at the sight. Talk about baby fever.

“And you’re Tara,” your father said, looking at her. He wasn’t an intimidating man at all, but Tara had heard how highly you spoke of him, and, needless to say, she was nervous.

Oh boy, she thought. Here we go.

“Hello, sir,” she said, sticking her hand out. I hope I’m not sweating. Please don’t be sweating.

He inspected her outstretched arm for a moment before laughing loudly and clapping a hand on her shoulder. “No handshakes for family, Tara!” He pulled her into a hug, just like your mother had. I have to become a part of this family. It’s a must. “And, gosh, don’t call me ‘sir’! That’s so formal! Just call me ‘dad’.” His voice was joyous, excited, and Tara understood immediately where you got your personality from.

“Okay,” she said with a nod. “...Dad…” It was weird, feeling the word slip from between her lips, but the man lit up upon hearing it.

“Tar, come here,” you called gently. She took a few steps until she was at your side, and grinned down at the baby in your arms. “Wanna hold her?”

“Oh!” Baby. Can’t drop it. That thing’s alive. “Sure.” It was a careful handoff as Lia settled into Tara’s arms, smiling up at her. She had the same eyes as you, who had the same eyes as your father, and Tara was immediately smitten. “Well, aren’t you just the cutest thing!”

And then, Lia was pulling at the ends of her hair, and Tara thought, Yeah. Maybe I don’t want a kid just yet.

“I’ll take her off your hands,” your father said, holding his arms out. Tara handed Lia back to him, watching as he stuck his tongue out, to which Lia laughed. “My little Cordelia,” your father sighed.

“She’s the favorite child now,” you whispered to Tara. “Come, let’s get something to drink.”

You took her not to the kitchen but to the bar, and Tara marveled the whole way as she caught sight of old paintings, framed poems, antiques that littered the walls. It wasn’t crowded in any way; it was all beautiful and exactly how she expected your house to look.

You ordered the two of you champagne, and the bartender didn’t say a word as he poured your drinks, handing them to you with a soft smile.

“So, that’s everyone. Like I said, my grandparents are probably hiding away in the wine cellar,” you said, taking a sip from your glass. “What’d you think?”

You’re the perfect mixture of your parents, she thought. Everything makes sense now. “They’re all lovely.”

You grinned. “I’m glad you like them. I can already tell they love you. Well, I could tell that from the moment I told them about you, but--”

Someone interrupted you.

“Y/N.” The voice was masculine, strong, stern, and Tara could sense a bit of pretentious asshole in his tone.

She spun around when you did and watched as your eyes landed on the man; you immediately straightened up, your shoulders tensing and your smiling fading into a tight-lipped greeting. She straightened up, too. I bet he’s a dick, she thought, eyeing him and internally scoffing at his stupid face.

“Connor,” you gritted out like it pained you.

Tara reached to take your hand, knowing that you sought touch in moments of stress, but, just barely, you moved away from her grasp. She felt her heart drop into her stomach. Who is this douche and why is he making her so…rigid?

You held your head a little higher and clenched your jaw. “Why are you here?”

He smiled, though Tara thought it looked more like a snarl. “Well, our parents are friends, so why wouldn’t we have been invited to Lia’s birthday party?”

That’s it, Tara promptly decided. I’m going to punch him by the end of the night.

“Right, of course.” You held your champagne glass a little tighter. “And how are you finding everything?”

“Oh, your parents throw lovely parties. Although, it’s not like I’m any stranger to them.” He took a sip of his wine and smacked his lips together. “I was surprised to find you here, actually.”

“It’s my baby sister’s birthday. Why wouldn’t I be here?” you asked.

He waved you off. “Your mother mentioned something about you having been busy--working a minimum wage job and whatnot.” The condescending nature of his words made Tara ball her hands into fists. If he doesn’t walk away in five seconds, I can’t be held responsible for what happens to his perfectly-straight, stupidly-white teeth. He turned to her, an eyebrow raised. “And this is…?”

Your worst fucking nightmare, douchebag, Tara thought, but she offered him the smallest of smiles instead, not yet knowing if she was allowed to make an enemy of him.

You startled, like you had just remembered that she was standing beside you, and slid your arm around her waist. Tara watched as Connor clenched his jaw at the action. Yeah, fuck you!

“Connor, this is Tara. My girlfriend.” He scoffed, loudly, and your hold on her tightened, your fingers digging into her hip. “Tara, this is Connor. He’s…a family friend.”

He hummed. “If that’s what you’d like to call us, then sure, Y/N.” Your name rolled off his tongue too comfortably for Tara’s liking, especially for how stand-offish you became around him. “So, still in your little…exploratory phase, then?” he asked in such a way that made your grip turn almost bruising and caused Tara’s stomach to turn unpleasantly.

“No, Connor,” you said. “I’m bisexual. There is no exploring.”

“Sure.” He chuckled like he didn’t believe you. “Perhaps the men at Blackmore are just less than satisfactory.”

“Okay, why don’t you--” Tara began, only to be cut off by you pulling her into you.

“Or perhaps Tara can just satisfy me more than you ever did,” you snapped.

Tara froze. What? Is he…did they date?

Connor furrowed his eyebrows in anger, his eyes turning dark as they set themselves on her. “Does she even come from money?” There was venom in his voice, the disgust in his expression not bothering to hide itself.

A shiver ran down Tara’s back, and she glanced at the floor, her skin suddenly feeling too small for her, the air seeming too thick to breathe in. From the moment she had stepped into your home, she had felt a little out of place, and now Connor was simply confirming that thought.

“Does that matter?” you seethed.

“Of course it does. When you come from families like ours, everything matters. I mean, if you’re serious about this whole…bisexual…thing, how could you know she’s not just using you?” His words were coming out fast, spit flying as he spoke, his cheeks flushing with rage. “At least with me, you knew there were no ill intentions.”

Using her? Tara thought, feeling herself shrink slightly. Ill intentions?

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, Connor.” Your voice was sharp and threatening, holding a warning behind it.

“I take it, then, that she doesn’t come from a family of the arts.” His eyes flickered down before glancing back up again. “Or any family that matters.”

There was a beat of silence, a pause in which Tara could feel anger radiating from you and shame filling her every vein, and it was strange. She pulled herself from your grasp, mumbled out, “I have to use the bathroom,” and rushed away with teary eyes. Away from him, away from the party, away from you.

Faintly, she could hear you calling her name, and then a few angry shouts, but she wasn’t paying attention. She was focused on squeezing past people and slipping upstairs to your bedroom, her hand fumbling around in her purse for her inhaler.

Fuck, where is my inhaler? she thought as she tripped up the last step and stumbled down the hall, counting one, two, three, doors on her left until she found the fourth—your bedroom. She shut the door behind her and leaned against it, rummaging through her purse in a panic as she tried to blink back her tears.

When she finally caught hold of her inhaler, she took two puffs and threw her head back, groaning. Stupid. Thinking I could fit in here. Thinking this was all normal. Stupid.

There was a knock on the other side of the door; then, a voice, soft and careful. “Tara?” She could hear some shuffling out in the hall. “Tara, dear?”

Tara straightened. Is that her mom? she wondered. What is her mom doing here right now?

“Could you let me in, Tara?”

Tara wiped beneath her eyes and, with a heaving sigh, turned around and opened the door, her shoulders slumping slightly at the sight of your mother’s worried face.

“I saw you run off, dear,” your mom started, taking a hesitant step forward, “and Y/N was nowhere in sight, so I thought I’d come check on you.”

This whole family is just too good. “I’m alright,” she lied through her teeth.

Your mother hummed and ventured further into the room, sitting on the edge of your bed with her legs crossed over one another. “I saw you and Y/N speaking to Connor Harris.” Her face soured as she spoke his name, and Tara smiled softly at that. “I’ve never liked that boy, but Y/N’s father and his father have been friends since childhood.”

Tara swallowed. I need to know. I need to ask. “Were Y/N and Connor…were they together at some point?” she asked.

Your mom’s eyebrows furrowed and a frown pulled at her lips. “Dear, they were engaged. Has she not told you?”

It was like the world stopped for a moment. Engaged? Tara wanted to throw up. Her vision blurred immediately; a pit in her stomach formed; she could feel herself shaking. Engaged?! She was engaged?! To him?!

Your mother stood and, before Tara could say a word, wrapped her arms around her, holding her trembling body close. “Tara, honey. It is just a part of Y/N’s past, but she’s with you now, and that’s what matters.”

Oh my god, I’m being comforted by her mom right now, Tara thought. This is so embarrassing. She pulled away and sniffled, holding her head up. “Thank you, truly. I’m just…shocked that she never mentioned an engagement before.” How did she never tell me?

“Yes, well--”

“Tar?” your voice called from near the door. “You in here, bab--” You appeared in the doorway, stopping short at the sight of your mother and Tara in your bedroom together, with clear signs of Tara having cried. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“I’ll leave you two alone,” your mom said, squeezing your shoulder briefly as she exited.

You walked into the room, shut the door behind you, and stepped up to Tara, taking her cheeks in your hand. Your thumb rubbed beneath her eyes, wiping away any remnants of her tears. “What’s going on, sweetheart?” you asked, your voice gentle.

She clenched her jaw, her eyes flitting to the floor. “Your mom told me about…about you and Connor.”

You paled, your hands dropping slightly and your eyes widening. “Oh,” you muttered.

“You didn’t tell me you were engaged before,” she whispered. She took a step away, and you swallowed as your arms fell to your sides. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it’s not a big deal,” you said, biting your lip.

“Not a big deal?!” Her eyebrows furrowed. How could she think this isn’t a big deal? “You were engaged--set to spend the rest of your life with someone.” She waved her hand. “Set to spend the rest of your life with him! And you think that’s not a big deal, or something that you shouldn’t tell your girlfriend?”

“Tar, let me explain,” you pleaded. “Just, let me explain, please.”

She inhaled sharply. “Fine.”

You sighed in relief, blinked hard, and began. “He proposed to me at our high school graduation, up on the stage, in front of everyone. I--I didn’t want to embarrass him, or our families, so I said yes, and, technically, yes, we were engaged.” You shook your head, slumping onto your bed and holding your face in your hands. “I should’ve never said yes. We went home that night, and I told him I didn’t actually want to get married. Obviously, he didn’t like that, so he broke up with me.”

Tara’s face softened, her anger simmering. “You were engaged for…what…only a few hours?”

You nodded, glancing at her. “Yeah. That’s why I didn’t tell you, because it really isn’t a big deal. I mean, honestly? I hardly liked Connor anyway. I was with him because I thought my parents wanted that, but they don’t care.” You shrugged. “They just want me to be happy.” You stood, crossed the room, and took Tara’s hands in your own. “And you make me happy.”

Tara grinned, then glanced away sheepishly. “I’m sorry I kind of overreacted.”

You shook your head and pulled her into you, your arms wrapping around her shoulders. “No, I should’ve told you. And I’m sorry that I didn’t.”

“It’s okay,” she mumbled into your chest, sliding her own arms around your waist and hugging you tightly. You kissed the top of her head, and she hummed before another thought popped into her head. “Do you think you should be with someone who…has a family like this?” She pulled back and gestured to your room. “Who could afford all of this?”

“Tara,” you said softly, frowning. “I don’t care that your family isn’t in the high arts, or that your parents aren’t business magnates, or that you didn’t grow up the way I did. I love you.” You leaned down and kissed her. “Don’t let what Connor said get to you, okay? He’s a pompous dirtbag.”

Tara chuckled. “He is, isn’t he?”

“Yes. The biggest pompous dirtbag I know.”

She grinned. “I love you, too, by the way.”

“I do love nothing in the world so well as you--is not that strange?” you quoted, smiling.

She rolled her eyes. Always such a dork, she thought. My dork, though. “Are you sure you don’t love Shakespeare more than me?”

You hummed, tilting your head like you were weighing your options, and she scoffed lightly. “I’m kidding. I’m kidding. I’ll always love you more than I love Shakespeare, baby.”

“Good.” Tara bit back her smile. “Does that mean you’ll get a statue bust of me?”

“...I’ll think about it.”

bonus: “so, when you and our sister get married, will you take her last name?” eddie asked, swinging his feet from where he sat at the table in the ballroom.

“eddie--” tara began, only to be interrupted by nate, who sat on the other side of her.

“get thee a wife, get thee a wife!” he exclaimed.

“we’re only 19, guys,” she tried.

“okay, and?” eddie asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

“do you not love my sister?” nate asked, and tara was thankful that, for once, his shakespeare quote sounded normal.

she glanced around, looking for you, but you were talking to one of your aunts on the other side of the room. she leaned down and gestured for both boys to come closer. “i’ll tell you guys a little secret. when we do get married, i plan to take her last name.”

they grinned at each other across tara.

“knew it!” eddie cheered.

[sturniololoco]

Can’t Hate You pt 1

Sturniolo Little Sister (SLS) X Nathan Doe

Warnings: Cussing, hitting, mentions of SA later in the series(and no, it was not Nate), etc.

ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .° ᡣ𐭩

SLS/N’s POV

Today was the day that I was not looking forward to. All week I’ve been dreading this specific Saturday to come, and it’s unfortunately arrived.

Nathan Doe is coming to LA.

He’s my brother’s best friend, so they invited him to come stay a week over the summer.

But, me and Nate have never really gotten along all that well. I know this will sound petty, but something that happened in high school, that you just can’t forgive people for.

“Who’s excited?!?” Chris yells in the car on our way to the airport, putting his hands up in the air. Matt and Nick cheer in delight, having been waiting for this week for a long time.

“Why so his big ass head can get in my way all weekend?” I say sarcastically, sighing then looking out my window.

Nick covers his mouth as he laughs at my snarky remark. Matt shakes his head while looking at the road.

But Chris turns to me and says.

“SLS/N, I know you two don’t get a long very well, but at least try this week.” He says, giving me a pleading look.

I glance at him for a brief second before looking out the window again, not responding. He sighs before saying,

“please sis? For me?”

I look back to see him giving puppy eyes. I roll my own before muttering a soft fine before we pulled up at the airport.

Nick and I stayed behind, filming Matt and Chris practically skipping through the airport corridors when they saw Nate.

“His head is still just as big as I remember,” I say to Nick and the camera he held for Wednesday's vlog.

Nick laughs out loud, shuts the camera off, then walks over to greet Nate. He gives him a side hug once he manages to pry off my other two brothers.

Instead of giving him a hug, instead of saying hello, instead of making eye contact with him at all, I stand behind Nick, looking at the ground, wishing this would hurry up so I could go home.

"SLS/N," he says sternly, nodding in my direction.

I gave him a tight-lipped smile, making eye contact for about half a second, then went back to looking at the ground.

"Wow. awkward!" Matt says, Nate just rolls his eyes and plays it off. I however began walking to the car.

-

I sit in the way back of the van, both headphones in, drowning out the boy's conversation. Nick and Nate were in the back while Matt and Chris were in their usual seats.

Around 15 minutes later, I felt a sharp tap on the side of my leg. I look up to see Nate reaching back behind the seats to get my attention. I pull one headphone out.

"We're stopping at McDonalds, what do you want to eat?" He asks, looking annoyed.

"Don't fucking touch me," I say, hating the fact that he feels like he could touch me.

Not after what he did.

"Don't be a child, SLS/N. Just use your words and tell your brother what you want." He says, using a sarcastic baby voice near the end.

I roll my eyes and mumble a quiet,

"I'm not hungry."

Nick rolls his eyes and lets out an exasperated sigh, then rolls his window down to order.

-

The boys were filming the rest of their vlog while they ate, but I decided not to. I stayed in my room, scrolling through my Instagram.

There was a soft knock on my door.

After saying come in, I'm met with the eyes of Nate. He tosses a 6 piece chicken nugget box into my lap, then sets a small tea on my night stand.

My favorite.

"I said I wasn't hungry." I lie, turning my nose up at the food. I secretly wanted to crush 10 boxes of them, but he didn't need to know.

"You need to eat." He says walking back towards the door.

He goes to close the door but opens it a crack, saying,

"I better not see any of those in the trash can."

He then walks out leaving me alone with a box of chicken nuggets, a sweet tea, and a blushing face.

Why am I blushing? Why did he care if I ate or not? How did he know my order?

All of these thoughts only make my face redder, causing me to get frustrated.

He doesn't care about you. Not anymore.

I lay back into my pillows, taking a sip of sweet tea, trying not to think about the boy who just walked out of the room.

Guys, it gets juicy I swear! The intro is always the most boring part. But I think y'all r gonna love this one.

@idkwhosnyla @babypat08 @eyelessdemon00 @christopherowensturniolo @sturnsxx @freshloveforthefit @matty443355 @sleepysturnss @emeraldgreenbeautiesstu @sunsetsturniolos @hoesturniolo @x4nd3rsukz @chr1sgirl4life @sstvrnioloo @sturns-posts @chrisstopherfilmed @kylasrealityx @zoeysturnioloooooo @comet235 @islaasblog @sturnioloblogs @defnotayonna @mattsleftnipple03 @thematthewlover @mattsaq

[mysslyssblog]

I recently re watched gravity falls and found your blog! i love the way you characterize Dipper, btw.

If your requests are open, do you mind writing something about Dipper x Reader where reader has a crush on dipper but is kinda low key about it but maybe Mable knows and tries to help Dipper and Reader get together?

I was thinking maybe Reader is Wendy’s younger sister and she has to watch Dipper have a crush on her (a little bit of angst doesn’t hurt anybody 🤣) but then she goes through a near death experience and Dipper realized he has a crush on her.

Sorry if this was very hyper specific, I’ve had this idea for a while now but I’m really nervous about writing it myself i guess…

Older Dipper Pines × reader (16-17)

Warnings: angst, happy ending, feminine pronouns used

Thank you for the request! It took me a second to get to it but l'm back to writing so please sending requests if you have them! 💜💜

____________________________________________

————————————————————————

I Hate You ~ D.P.

“I hate you.”

Those were the last words I spoke to my best friend Dipper Pines before I blacked out.

“I hate you too.”

That was the last thing I heard Dipper say to me before we got separated.

To understand what’s happening, let’s go back.

~Four Summers Ago~

I sigh as I walk into the Mystery Shack to give my sister, Wendy, her lunch she left at home. I walk in and see Mr. Pines having his usual debacle with a customer, trying to get them to spend an unfathomable amount of money on a rock painted gold. I chuckle as I watch the scene go down.

“Y/n.” I hear my sister say. “Mh?” I hum as I place her lunch on the counter she’s standing behind. “Me and the gang are going to the haunted gas station tonight, you in?” She asks. I look hesitant. “I don’t know Wendy. Last time we did something like this it didn’t go well.” I shutter as I remember our prior experience to a haunted location. “C’mon dude. Your boyfriend’s gonna be there.” She teases. “Boyfriend?!”

I whipped around as I hear a girls voice I’ve never heard before. I’m met with a messy head of brown hair, big brown eyes, and a smile filled with silver braces.  “Hi! I’m Mabel, and people call me the love expert!” She declares. “No one calls you that.” I move to look around Mabel and see an identical boy holding a notepad and pen. He’s cute. A blush creeps onto my cheeks as I hear Wendy expose my secret.

“Yeah, you guys know Nate? Well Y/n has had a huge crush on him for like, forever.” Wendy snickers. “This reminds me of Dipper’s big crush on Wen-“  Mabel is suddenly cut off by the Dipper’s hand slapping over her mouth. He turns beat red. “Excuse us.” He says before dragging Mabel into the living room.

“Who’s that?” I ask. “That’s Dipper and Mabel, Stan’s great niece and nephew.” She says before turning her attention to the magazine in her hand.

Dipper and Mabel come back in, Mabel trying to hide the smirk on her face. “So.” Dipper squeaks our before clearing his throat. “So,” he says in a forced deep voice. “I overheard that you two are going to the haunted convenient store. What if I- I mean Mabel and I come with you?” He says. “Yeah but I’m only gonna go if Y/n goes and she’s too scared to go.” Wendy sighs. “What? I’m not scared. I’ll go. I’m going.” I state.

Wendy raises her eyebrows. She knows something’s up. “Great! I guess we’re going.” Dipper says as he looks up at Wendy like he’s star struck.

Oh.

~One Month Ago~

I take a deep breath as I rest my head on Dipper’s shoulder. His jacket is draped over my shoulders as we sit on the shack’s roof. It’s just the two of us and the stars.

“There’s the Big Dipper.” I say, point at the constellation. He chuckles. I always point it out to him every time we star gaze. A comfortable silence falls over us. I feel the weight of his head fall onto mine as I hear him take a deep breath.

*Just tell him Y/n. There’s no better time than now.*

“Dipper?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

“I-“

“Hey dudes!”

Me and Dipper’s heads whip around to see Wendy. She crawls up the ladder, Pitt Colas in hand. “You two need some company?”

I see Dipper’s face light up. “Yeah! I mean of course!” He says with the biggest smile on his face. I sigh as Wendy sits next to him.

I love Wendy to death but she’s such a cock block. (DON’T TAKE THIS LITERALLY LMFAO)

Wendy and Dipper start laughing about something stupid before Dipper looks at me. “What were you gonna tell me Y/n?” He asks. “Nothing. I’m tired and Mabel and I were gonna watch a movie anyway.” I say coldly before walking over to the ladder. Dipper and Wendy give each other a look before Wendy looks to me and mouths ‘I’m sorry.’ I shake my head and climb down the ladder.

So much for that.

~Three Hours Ago~

Dipper, Mabel, Soos, Wendy and I make our way through the woods to our next adventure. Ford send us out to find some fairy dust for his next invention. He says he’s making a stain remover for Stan’s bed sheets because allegedly his sheets are so stained that he needs a magical solution to fix it.

I shudder at the thought of Stan’s stained sheets. “You okay?” I hear Dipper ask me. “Yeah, just thinking about Stan’s stained sheets.” Dipper and I laugh together until we hear Soos say something. “Yo dudes, check this out.” We all make our way over and see exactly what we’re looking for: the fairy village.

“Okay guys this should be easy enough. We just need to get one cup of fairy dust and we should be good to go.” We all nod and go separate ways to find fairy dust.

An hour later, five fairies cussing me out and a gallon of fairy dust in my eyes, we finally got a cup of fairy dust. “That was harder than expected.” I say. “No kidding.” Dipper  says as he rubs the top of his head were a diary pushed a brick onto.

“The sun is going down and you know what they say, when the sun goes down in the woods, take care, for shadows loom and secrets share.” Soos whispers.

We all look at each other confused. “Where did you hear that?” I ask. “I think I read it on a cereal box.” He says. I furrow my eyes in confusion until I feel an arm stop me from walking. It’s Dipper’s. “What? What is it?” I ask. “Did you guys hear that?”

Suddenly, we hear a high pitched scream. We all cover our ears. “What is that?!” Wendy shouts. “It’s a Dybbuk!” Dipper answers. “A what?!” Mabel screams. “A Dybbuk! It’s a- no time to explain, run!” He shouts before grabbing my hand and running.

We all start running but all of us get separated, except Dipper and I. He leads us to a hiding spot behind a big tree.

I grip onto his hand tighter, him returning the action. He looks at me and I look at him. For a second I could’ve sworn it looked like he saw something in me. Something more than just friends.

“Y/n.”

“Yeah?”

“If I die, I just want you to-“

“To what?”

“Tell Wendy I love her.”

My heart drops.

That sentence snapped something inside of me. All of those years of waiting. All of those years doing anything and everything to get his attention. All those tears wondering why he chose my sister and not me.

“Dipper.”

“Yeah?”

“I hate you.”

His face drops.

“What?”

I jump up and beginning running from our hiding spot. “Fine! I hate you too!” Dipper shouts from his hiding spot.

I run. I run as hard as I can. I run until I can’t feel my legs and my lungs burn. I trip and land on a rock, busting my knees and scratching up my arms. The tears finally start falling.

I don’t know what’s happening, I don’t know where I am, I don’t know if my friends are alive.

“Wendy!” I scream. I just want my sister. I just want someone.

**Snap.**

My head whips around.

**Snap.**

Another twig snapped.

**Snap.**

**Snap.**

**Snap.**

Twigs all around me start snapping, my head unable to keep up with them.

**Snap.**

I hear a twig snap directly in front of me. I looks up and see it. The Dybbuk.

~Now~

That was the last thing I remember. Where am I now? I’m not sure. It’s dark. It’s quiet. Very quiet.

I can’t hear, I can’t see, but I feel something. I feel a hand in mine, another on my face.

That’s when I heard his voice.

“Y/n!”

Dipper?

“Oh Y/n. Please wake up. This is all my fault I shouldn’t have let you go! I shouldn’t have-“ He’s cut off with a sob. “I shouldn’t have hid my feelings from you. I- I’m like in love with you Y/n! I’ve just been too much of a coward to say it.” He begins sobbing harder. He hand gripping mine harder.

I’m able to move. I squeeze his hand.

“Y/n?”

My eyes flutter open.

“Y/n!”

“Dipper?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you too.”

____________________________________________

I LOVE THIS IDEA!!! I hope I wrote this to your standards and I’m sorry for getting to this late I’ve been in a writing slump. Thank you everyone for the support! 💜💜

[trekscribbles]

The Bushwhack Job: Chapter Ten

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine

(Disclaimer: This is a relatively rough draft and subject to change when I post to AO3. I'm just overly excited and want to share what I have.)

Nate looked the part when he walked into Lancaster’s downtown office. He’d changed into a black western shirt with a matching hat, courtesy of Sophie’s lifting of one of Lancaster’s company credit cards, and his new boots gave him an extra couple inches to play with as an intimidation factor. He wanted every piece of ammunition he could use for this job.

After all, it would probably be his last.

He gave his name to the receptionist and waited while she called up to Lancaster’s office, then tipped his hat to her when she directed him to the top floor. The elevator blared a terrible blend of bluegrass and pop, and Nate tried not to picture the disgusted expression it would have elicited on Eliot’s face. It was almost over. He could hold on for this last little bit, just long enough for the others to do their jobs. He could give them that much.

The doors slid open, and Nate strode down the hall and into Lancaster’s office without knocking.

“Mr. Riley,” Lancaster said, rising from his desk and offering his hand to Nate. “My girls downstairs say you have a proposition for me.”

Nate shook his hand and sat at the offered chair across from Lancaster. “Mr. Lancaster. I hear you’re in the business of historical acquisitions.”

“I’ve been known to take an interest in various historical items,” Lancaster said, smiling. “What have you got in mind?”

Nate grinned back. “How does the lost cache of the Jesse James gang sound?”

Lancaster went still. His smile was frozen on his face, but his eyes flashed with anger. “If you can find it. Nobody in the last 200 years has managed it.”

“Well, that’s because they’ve been looking in the wrong place.” Nate took off his hat, setting it top-down on Lancaster’s desk, taking up more space than he’d been allotted.

The smile disappeared. “And you think you know where to look?”

“I did,” Nate said, leaning back in his chair. “That’s how I found it.”

Lancaster’s eyes narrowed. He studied Nate for a moment, frowning, and then shook his head. “You didn’t find it.”

Nate paused, letting the silence stretch a beat longer than necessary. “I’m not sure you want to be calling a potential new business partner a liar,” he said softly. “Not given your own background. What’s that saying about casting stones in glass houses?”

“You’re calling me a liar?” Lancaster growled.

“Well,” Nate said. “For one, you’re making a reputation on this whole country boy thing, but your accent’s a little forced. Too much of an emphasis on the drawl, not enough on the consonants.” Sophie had pointed that one out—something about T-glottalization—Nate decided not to get into the specifics. “Based on your slip-ups, I’d say east coast. Back in the old days, I think they’d call you a tenderfoot.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Lancaster said, glowering.

“Oh, I do.” Nate’s voice was soft, barely audible. “It’s a very distinctive accent.”

Lancaster opened his mouth, but the phone on his desk gave a shrill ring, and he cut himself off. With one final glare at Nate, he ground out, “Excuse me,” and answered without speaking. His expression brightened as he listened, and a premonition of unease worked its way down Nate’s spine.

“Well,” Lancaster said, hanging up with a smile. “I suppose the ruse is up. You play a good hand, Mr. Ford, but the deck was stacked against you.”

Nate’s stomach dropped. He didn’t try to deny it—there was no point—but he couldn’t help the quick glance over his shoulder. Hardison would be in the server room by now, and Parker—

“That was my head of security,” Lancaster said. “My plan, at least, has gone exactly the way it was supposed to. The server room has locked behind your hacker, my man Janish is with your grifter—clever to set her up as a receptionist, by the way, I never even noticed—and my security team is tracking down your thief. That just leaves you, Mr. Ford.” He took in Nate’s clenched jaw and laughed. “Don’t feel bad. You couldn’t have known what you were walking into. If I do say so myself, I set a mighty fine trap.”

“To what end?” Nate asked. 

“Ending you,” Lancaster said. “My sources seem to think you’re dangerous, but I have to admit I’m disappointed. You really didn’t put up much of a fight. I suppose without your guard dog—”

Nate was lunging across the desk before he could tell himself not to fall for the taunt. He didn’t care. He would take the fall if he had to, but not like this, not without beating the smirk off Lancaster’s face. He wanted to see the man bleed, see him cry and cower and beg for mercy, he wanted him to—

A hand caught his. One minute there was nothing but Lancaster’s satisfied grin, and then another man stood in the way, his fingers closing over Nate’s fist, his eyes guarded. Nate stopped short, the desk between him and Lancaster, a spike of horrible, agonized hope rooting him to the spot.

“I told you to stay out of sight,” Lancaster snapped.

Eliot kept his gaze on Nate. “You’d rather I let him beat you up?” he murmured, tightening his grip on Nate’s knuckles.

Nate opened his mouth, but couldn’t form the words tumbling uselessly in his brain.

“Get back where you belong,” Lancaster said. “I can take care of him.”

Eliot stayed where he was, watching Nate with a blank expression. “You’re Nathan Ford?”

“You’re alive?” Nate whispered.

Eliot let go of his hand. “No thanks to you.”

Nate flinched; Eliot had always known how to land a good hit. 

Except… if there was anything Eliot was better at than landing punches, it was pulling them. Better than any of them, Eliot knew what guilt did to a person, and he wouldn’t use it as a weapon—not against Nate. There was more going on here.

But it was hard to figure out what that might be when the only thing Nate could think was you’re alive, you’re alive, you’re alive.

“Now isn’t the time,” Lancaster said. “Get back downstairs. I’ll call you when—”

“Eliot.” Nate’s voice broke over the name, so he cleared his throat and said it again. “Eliot… What happened?”

Lancaster placed his hands on the desk. “He turned on you. He works for me now, and nothing you—”

“Shut up,” Nate said. He looked at Eliot’s bruised face, at the apprehension in his eyes, and tried to read a message in them. He had to be playing some kind of angle, and if Nate could figure it out, he could play along. But he couldn’t think—it was too much, too much, and he couldn’t think.

“Is that my name?” Eliot asked. “I thought it was Spencer.”

Oh, God. Another rush of grief washed over him, draining him of everything except cold realization. “You don’t remember?”

“Head wound,” Eliot said, shrugging. “The memory loss is temporary. Probably. Jury’s still out on whether I want it back or not. But I’ve heard Lancaster’s version of things, and now I’d like to know yours. I’ll make my mind up from there.”

Lancaster reached for his phone. “Enough. If you’re not going to listen—”

Without breaking eye contact with Nate, Eliot reached out his right hand—bruised and bandaged—and yanked the phone from its cord. He tossed it across the room and spoke as if there had been no interruption. “How do you know me?”

Nate held his gaze. “I’m your friend.”

“And the others?” Eliot asked. “The hacker? The grifter? The thief? They’re my friends too?”

“Yes,” he said, scrambling for a better explanation. Our friend, our teammate, our family.

Eliot scoffed. “Then I am a criminal.”

“Eliot—”

“The blonde woman,” he said. “Who was she?”

Nate frowned. “You mean Parker? Lancaster sent you a message saying he had her, but he didn’t. It was a trap. He lured you into the LanCast building and blew it up. We thought—we thought you were—” He broke off, unable to voice it now, afraid it would somehow undo whatever miracle had brought Eliot back.

Eliot sucked in a breath. “She’s not dead?”

“He’s lying,” Lancaster said. “He’s trying to confuse you.”

“Why?” Eliot asked.

“He tried to kill you before you could come after him,” Lancaster pressed. “He knows what you’ll do to him if you figure that out.”

“That’s not true.” Nate kept his eyes on Eliot’s, his voice firm. “You may not remember me, but I know you. I’m not afraid of you.”

“You should be.” A hint of desperation worked its way into Eliot’s voice, contrasting with the emotionless mask he was still fighting to keep over his face. “You don’t know what I’m capable of. The things I know how to do. I don’t remember my friends, but I remember that. What kind of a person does that make me?”

“Don’t let him confuse you,” Lancaster needled. He stood and reached for Eliot’s shoulder, but he flinched away.

Nate stayed where he was. “You’re the only one who can answer that,” he said softly. “Whatever you might have done in the past… that’s not who you are now.”

“I’ve hurt people,” Eliot said, scowling. “Stolen. Killed. You’re really going to stand there and say I’m not evil?”

“That’s what I’m saying,” Nate said. “Yeah, you have a past, and if you want to know what it was, I’ll tell you. But it doesn’t matter. Lancaster wants to convince you that you’re a bad guy so he can use you, but you’re the one in control here. You decide who you want to be. But I’ll tell you, Eliot—” Nate took a breath, clutching at the remains of his composure. “Whatever you’ve done, bad guy or not, you’re a good man. One of the best I’ve ever known.”

Hurt and hope flared up in Eliot’s eyes—that old, familiar battle between who he’d been and who he wanted to be. Lancaster had tried to capitalize on that struggle, after everything, after everything he’d put them through.

They had to go. Now, before Nate did something Eliot would regret.

“Come on, Eliot,” Nate said, his voice rough. “Let’s go home.”

Eliot hesitated, frowned, and then turned to Lancaster and gestured to the chair. “Take off your belt.”

“My—what?” Lancaster sputtered. “Spencer, listen to me. He’s lying, and I can prove it.”

“I got all the proof I need.” Eliot folded his arms and dipped his head toward Nate’s hat, still resting on the desk beside the broken phone. “He knows to put that crown-down.”

Lancaster blinked at him. “What?”

“Maybe I was working for you,” Eliot went on. “But I don’t have to stay with you. Now take off your belt before I decide to break your wrists instead of binding them.”

Shaking in either fear or anger—Nate couldn’t be sure which—Lancaster undid his belt and dropped it onto the desk. Eliot nudged him onto his chair, pulled his hands behind his back, and secured them with the belt, and then loosened the tie at Lancaster’s neck and gagged him with it. When he was satisfied with that, he pulled the chair against the wall and tied Lancaster’s ankles with the phone cord.

Then he straightened and gestured toward the door. “Follow me. I’ll take you to the others.”

“The others?” Nate echoed.

“Yeah. The rest of your team.”

Nate trailed him out of the office, pausing only to close the door behind them. “You know where they are?”

“I…” Eliot turned away, avoiding eye contact. “I thought you’d killed her—Parker—and I needed to find you, so I made a plan for Lancaster. He described the people you were working with, their reputations, their strengths, enough for me to set a trap. I had him put out a press release to say he’d found something valuable, and that he was holding it here in his office. I figured you’d break in to get it, and I could make my move then. Lancaster sent Janish after the grifter—”

“Sophie.”

“Sophie,” Eliot echoed. “I didn’t know who she was, but I went back over the surveillance footage from the last few days and noticed her lifting a credit card, so I figured she was involved.”

“I’ve never been so glad to have you on our side,” Nate said, surprising himself with a chuckle.

“You’re not mad?”

Nate looked at him. Tiny cuts along the right side of his face were just starting to heal, and his hair covered some of the bruising on his cheek and ear—superficial injuries hiding something so much worse. As bad as it had been for Nate and the rest of the team, at least they’d had each other. What must it have been like to wake up with no memory, wounded and alone, and have to grieve someone he couldn’t even remember?

“No, Eliot, I’m not mad.” Nate’s voice was soft, if a little uneven. “But… When Lancaster told you I was the one who set off the explosion, you didn’t believe him. Or at least, you were willing to give me a chance to explain my side of things. Why?”

Eliot kept his eyes on the ground as they jogged down the hall. “I, um... I had a dream. About you. You and—and Parker, and another woman, and a man. I can’t remember their faces, but when I saw you in Lancaster’s office, it felt...” He shrugged, faint color flushing across his face. “I dunno. Familiar.”

Nate had never seen Eliot blush before. He’d never been this vulnerable before—forced to trust someone he didn’t know, forced to admit a weakness. But he’d chosen to anyway. Part of had him remembered, had reached out and found them against all odds. When Nate had been ready to give up, Eliot had kept fighting.

Of course he had. Memories or no, this was Eliot.

God… he had to tell the others.

He reached for his phone, but Eliot put out his hand to stop him from dialing. “That won’t work—I had Lancaster set up a dampener so you wouldn’t be able to communicate with your crew. Landlines only.”

Nate couldn’t help the grin that broke across his face. He threw his arm around Eliot’s shoulders as they reached the elevator, his chest constricting at Eliot’s uncertain expression even as he leaned into Nate’s touch.

“It’s good to have you back, Eliot,” Nate said.

Slowly, Eliot smiled.

[anonymousgayrobot]

one of my favorite things about fallout 4 is that story component of ‘waking up in a new world’ that fantasy stories sometimes use, is completely flipped on it’s ass. Because there is no magic, it’s just the sheer brutality of war. There is nothing left of Sole’s past, and there’s no going back. And how they’re given an artificial model of the son they never watched grow up, and will never continue to see grow—it’s like a slap in the face to that sentiment. Killing Kellogg can surely avenge your spouse and the theft of your son, but there’s no real closure there. You can’t pursue vengeance on Vault Tec for experimenting on your family, or on the employees that left you in that pod to die because they’re already dead. The Sole Survivor is forced to come to terms that their world is gone forever, there is no return but you’re still alive; you can still form new connections, be capable of more than just revenge or hate, fall in love again, breathe the dusty air and grill some radioactive cow in the ruins of your old neighborhood, surrounded by new faces, new lives. It’s complete renewal. I know all of this sounds super obvious but as someone who’s had to deal with unclosed trauma and the passage of time, it HURTS so uniquely bad.

Also, to be more survivor-specific; I can’t imagine what either spouse could’ve felt in that scenario. Nate, being a former soldier who thought he could narrowly escape that carnage, only to be reminded of their reality as the familiar sound of vertibirds fly overhead. To helplessly watch his wife be murdered the same as his old comrade-in-arms after everything he did to keep them safe.

And for Nora, who probably spent each day worrying and stressing for her husband’s safety while he was deployed. Only to watch him be murdered helplessly trying to shield their son, unable to do anything once again. To have that sense of a permanent future be swiped from them and wrecked into oblivion.

And then in 210 years, be face to face with the son they don’t know and never knew at all, unable to be saved and the embodiment of guilt—older than their own selves and completely unrecognizable. The way their voices welled with emotion as they saw the synth version of their son, believing him to be real and begging for him to follow. They come all this way and for what? Realize their own child is the enemy? When they watch from that rooftop as the Institute explodes, everyone celebrates but does Sole? Do they want to question if it was worth it? I also like the addition of the Silver Shroud missions because maybe it offered a chance for Sole to reminisce, live within their old life for a minute and be human. And they seemed really happy about it too despite everything.

or maybe im just overly empathetic uhhhhhh

[painsandconfusion]

Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones, But…

Whumping the Whumpers - Part One

This series (this scene specifically) started as a @whumptober prompt, so thank you to them for making this possible!

(tw: stabbing, cutting, kidnapping, restrained, stress position, implied past self-harm)

[Masterpost | Next]

Nate pulled the chain tight and watched Ethan’s hands stretch toward the ceiling. They kept pulling until Ethan was balancing on their tiptoes.

Very nice. Visually dynamic.

Ethan was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, but they’d fix that soon. Nate always loved how much skin was exposed when the arms were brought up like this.

Nate stepped up to Ethan, sliding off their blindfold.

Ethan’s eyes burned back at them. That was…surprising. "Happy to see me, darling?”

Ethan didn’t break eye-contact like they used to. “Sure. Psyched.”

Nate tucked away a stray lock of hair that fell in Ethan’s eyes. “So angry. You’ve only been away from me…what? Five years now? Not much time to grow a backbone.”

“Long enough, apparently.”

“Yes, apparently,” Nate chucked. “I’ll have a fun time ripping it back out of you.” They trailed their fingers down Ethan’s sternum for added effect.

Their eyes were flat. Void of amusement or fear. “Go for it.”

Nate stepped back, looking them over. They had gained back the weight they’d lost and then some. They looked stronger - much stronger, actually - than before. Nate reached out, pressing a hand to their stomach, then running it up along their arms. They had definitely gained some muscle, too. Ethan didn’t flinch at the touch. Nate didn’t know why that was annoying to them.

They smiled, covering up the emotion. “It’s really so good to have you back. I never stopped looking for you after you escaped. Did you know that?”

Ethan sighed, staring at the ceiling. “I never assumed you would.”

“And yet…you don’t seem afraid. I’m not going to lie, I miss that a little. You made the cutest sounds.”

“I really don’t have any more fucks to give at this point.” Their eyes did seem particularly…well…dead.

“Hmm. Well, maybe you’ll find some again.” They grinned, slipping a small knife from their pocket. “You just need a little persuasion.”

Ethan’s eyes dropped to the knife. “By all means, go ahead. Pain and I are good friends.”

Nate smirked. They were acting so tough. We will see how long that lasts. They brought the knife up, letting the tip rest and push gently up under Ethan’s chin.

They waited for the flinch. For Ethan’s breath to hitch. For them to tip their head up, exposing their neck.

But….nothing.

Nate quirked an eyebrow and tipped the knife further up. Ethan didn’t flinch as the skin split, bead of blood running down the blade.

For a moment, Nate had to beat down the sudden urge to push it further. To make them gasp and flinch even if they had to ram the knife up through the roof of their mouth.

No no, not today. Start slow. Relish this.

They watched the bead of blood roll. And…noticed something behind it.

Something out of place on Ethan’s neck.

Nate blinked. Was that…a scar? They’d never given Ethan a scar there. Had they? No. Definitely not.

Nate snaked a hand around and gripped Ethan by the back of the hair, pulling down to expose the throat. Ethan offered no resistance as Nate examined the faded white line. They traced it lightly with the tip of the knife.

“Who did this to you?” Their voice was a whisper. A flavor of rage they didn’t recognize bubbled in their chest.

Ethan’s voice hummed against the blade. “Some guy named Redd? Ran into him after I left you.”

Nate pulled back, dropping Ethan’s head. They gripped the knife tighter. Redd.

They stared at the ceiling, trying to keep their breaths steady. “And this Redd…did he hurt you besides that once?”

Ethan smirked, “Oh plenty. Much worse than you did.”

Nate gripped the knife tighter as their hands started to shake. Darkness creeped into the edges of their vision. “What’s his full name?”

“Oh my god, are you jealous?” Ethan laughed at that. “Wow, you really are. Feeling a little protective now, are we?”

Nate spun back to them. “What the fuck did he do to you?!”

Ethan offered no response but a smile.

Whatever. They’d find out themselves.

Nate slipped the knife under the hem of Ethan’s shirt, splitting it cleanly down the middle. They did the same to the sleeves, ripping them away and tossing the tattered fabric on the ground.

They…stared.

And stared.

And stared some more.

Gashes and scars littered their flesh. They were in every shape. Every color a scar can be. Nate walked around them, forcing themselves to look, even if seeing the marred flesh - their flesh - made Nate’s skin craw. Normally they would appreciate the sight, but not when other hands had made those scars. They wanted to strip all the ruined skin back, peeling it off and starting fresh.

Nate took a deep breath. “What. The. Fuck. Happened to you.”

Ethan shrugged - at least Nate assumed it was a shrug - it was hard to tell in that position. “Met a few more. Finally got out. Got into juice cleanses and kale-”

“More? I’m sorry, did you just say more?”

“More sick freaks like you? Yeah. Quite a few, actually.”

Nate could practically feel the air vibrating in their lungs.

“You’re MINE.”

Ethan smiled at that. It seemed genuine. “Evidently not, sorry.”

Nate lashed out, punching Ethan as hard as they could in the gut. Ethan coughed and swayed back against the chain.

Why. The. FUCK weren’t they flinching??

“I don’t know what to tell you. Sorry for your loss? Apparently you never learned to share your toys as a kid.”

Nate tossed the knife to the side of the room before they lost control and stabbed them or something. It clattered to a stop against the wall. Nate turned away, running their fingers through their hair. They needed to calm down. They had Ethan now. They were theirs now.

And this time, they weren’t ever getting away.

“You doing okay, there?”

Nate spun back around to face them, eyes burning. “Peachy,” they spat.

Ethan chuckled. “Doesn’t look like it to me.” They looked Nate up and down, amusement radiating. “What can I do to make you feel better?” They cooed, mocking. “Should I scream? Beg? Pull away and cry? Make you feel like you’re somehow scarier than they were?”

Nate’s fist cracked against Ethan’s nose before they even realized they were moving.

Blood started to dribble after a few moments. Ethan laughed loudly as the chain keeping them up spun them back forward. “Wow, touched a nerve there, did I?”

Nate’s eyes locked on the fallen knife. Fuck it. They were going to stab them after all.

Nate retrieved it and strode back up to Ethan, pointing the knife at them while every inch of their body trembled with fury. “You’re MINE. Do you understand that?” They pressed the knife tip hard against Ethan’s stomach.

“Sure. Whatever makes you feel better.”

The little shit. Nate pulled back the knife, ready to thrust it into their diaphragm. They froze, looking at the skin on their ribs, just to the left of their target.

It was their brand. Their beautiful brand they placed on Ethan. The good one with their initials and emblem. It was massacred.

Gashes and lines criss-crossed over the lettering until it was hardly recognizable. Scarred over. Destroyed. Forgotten.

Nate’s breath stopped. Their vision nearly blurring.

They struggled to keep their voice down. They pressed their shaking fingers hard against it. “Who did that.”

Ethan only smirked at them.

Nate gritted their teeth and drove the knife deep into Ethan’s abdomen, in a safe(er) place below the appendix.

Ethan grunted, but laughed freely as they gasped for air. “Wow, that one really has you railed up.”

Nate grabbed Ethan’s jaw with their free hand, forcing Ethan to look at them. “I said,” They twisted the knife, “WHO did that?”

Ethan didn’t even respond to the knife when Nate twisted it a second time. “I need names.”

Ethan just chucked. “That one was all me.”

[Masterpost | Next] [Original Post]

[serenpedac]

Also, answering this too----

8. Specific Scene that has stuck with you:

A smile shines through in his voice when he says, “I believe you are supposed to look up if you don’t want to miss your chance to make a wish.” Chuckling, she nudges his shoulder with hers—just how is she supposed to concentrate on falling stars when he does this to her?

(falling stars and Yael and Nate and binary systems!!! - no three body problem here--- although now I'm having LT thoughts ahhhhh)

17. Author you give sincere comments to and why:

(On 'when words' --- oh your writing has so much feeling - I feel the story the characters in the words!!! Letters and the forests on the edge of the sea, stripped driftwood. Morgan at the airport. A ring left in a bedside drawer. Ahhh!!!)

20. Fic(s) you used to reward yourself:

"After the concert finishes, they return to the garden where night has fallen. Except that instead of being greeted by darkness, they find lanterns strung between the trees in numbers beyond counting. Like stars descended to cast their light on this section of Earth. Like anyone else, she has heard the stories about the Gardens but had banished any fantasies she might have had far from her mind. This kind of thing would never be for her, yet here she is.

They walk underneath the glowing lanterns and it’s unreal. Dreamlike. At some point, her arm threaded through his has changed to their hands clasped together, fingers entwined and that—the warmth of him, his thumb rubbing over her knuckles every now and then—that is real enough.

And when she turns her head to look at him and he is looking at her, those feelings swelling in her chest are just as real."

('breath that passed from you to me' is one of my favourite stories and was a definite reward to myself- I have a very distinct memory of being on the london overground crossing the river on a gloriously sunny day reading the second chapter and just grinning like a fool at my phone as the city flashed by...!!!!)

Wonderful person <33333 Thank you so much for your message, I'm smiling so much right now! I love it when people tell a little about where they were/what they were doing when reading my fic, it makes it feel like, like my fic really was a part of their lives, no matter how small, and I'm so grateful that people chose something that I created to take that place. Does that make sense?

(Ohhh, no LT! Ngl, Will's comment/hallucination about Raj being chaos initially made me think it was about the three of them being a LT, but I'm kind of okay with how it was handled/it being there. Even if it was still painful. Honestly, Jin deserves so much better than someone who tells her to keep it easy on the science (I'd talk science with her all day))

(Okay, I will shut up about the Three-Body Problem. For now. While I reread your message and smile about it <3)

[memphisnovels]

Evermore

Chapter 15. The greatest

Previous chapter

Masterlist

Hi :)

Whatever is Pietro so upset about?

 Things are coming to a head for Pietro and Nadia, big things coming in the very near future! <33

pairing: Pietro Maximoff x OFC

warnings: Nightmares, Nadia totally isn't in denial, arguing, so so much tension, Pietro and Nadia in general, just kiss already smh.

“So basically, they’re all like super rich kids who go to this school, and those two main girls were best friends, but Blair’s boyfriend is in love with Serena and Blair’s mom likes Serena better so there’s tension.” I watched Pietro with raised eyebrows as he spoke animatedly about the show, explaining in great detail the main plot to me. “Then there’s Dan who also likes Serena but he’s not in their group and he’s not rich like the others, but his sister is friends with Blair, kind of.” His eyes looked brighter today or maybe it was just the glow of the TV reflecting off of him. I’d been so entranced by the curve of his jaw and the sound of his voice that I’d been seated beside him for God knows how long now.

A small smile tugged at my lips. “Why did Serena leave?”

“Because she slept with Nate, Blair’s boyfriend.”

I shook my head. “Enthralling, really.”

He smirked at me. “It is.”

“This show sounds completely fucking ridiculous.”

“That’s what makes it so good!” Pietro responded, throwing a handful of nuts into his mouth. “I was sure I’d figured it out, but now I’m starting to think I was wrong.”

“Who the fuck cares who gossip girl is!” He was positively giggling at me now.

I rolled my eyes but was unable to stop the smile from overtaking my expression. It was strange to see him so excited about something so silly. The sound of heels clicking against the smooth floors caught my attention, when I glanced over my shoulder a large smile spread across my lips as I took in the familiar dark-haired woman before me. “Hello, stranger.” I was on my feet in but a moment, Pietro’s head whipping around to see what I was looking at.

“Anna!” I crossed the space between us quickly, allowing her to wrap me in her warm embrace. “You didn’t tell me you were coming.” The smile seemed permanently etched on my features.

“Well, I have a few days before my next assignment and wanted to see your face.” She let go of me and surveyed me, the way a mother would her child. Then her eyes slipped beyond my face to the silver-haired man on the couch and the TV in front of him. The corners of her lips tugged upward as she met my gaze once more. “Are you watching Gossip Girl? Haven’t you already seen it like a hundred times, Nads?”

My cheeks instantly grew warm, and I saw Pietro’s head swing toward me at an alarming speed. I scoffed, shaking my head as I attempted to play nonchalant. Pietro’s entire expression lit up and his mouth fell open as he pointed at me. “You little liar.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve never seen this before.”

“Yeah right! You just like hearing me talk.”

I rolled my eyes, turning back to Anna and setting her with a glare.

“Whatever is happening between the two of you… I like it.” Anna told me as we sat down at the island bench in the kitchen. The look I gave her had a beaming smile spreading across her lips. “As much as I would love to delve so much further into you and Pietro, unfortunately, this isn’t strictly a social call.” The shift in her voice had me sitting up straighter, I knew her well enough to notice the slightest change in her demeanor. Right now, it was evident to me that she was genuinely concerned about whatever she was going to tell me. “MI6 have been looking into a string of assassinations in Europe, we believe it’s linked to a militia group, but we don’t actually have any proof. I’m not supposed to disclose anything specific until you agree to act as the United States representative in the case.”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “How very mysterious. If I agree?”

“You’d be flying to Amsterdam in next week to begin recon on a key player.”

“A militia group in Amsterdam? What do they do, smoke joints and ride bikes away from their assassinations?”

Anna’s face twitched as she attempted to remain composed. “They’re not based there. We want you to look into the CEO of a tech company, Tara Janssen, we think she’s stumbled onto something big and is planning on selling it, likely to the militia group. If that’s her intention whatever she’s selling needs to be intercepted immediately.”

I wasn’t particularly concerned about the tech company nor the woman in charge who upon my Google search turned out to be a camera-shy young woman who certainly didn’t strike me as some kind of evil mastermind hacker. However, the general air around Anna and the way she spoke about the case had me questioning my initial beliefs. That is why I agreed to go to Amsterdam and help MI6 with their investigation, even when Anna informed me that they wanted to send me with backup… backup in the form of one Pietro Maximoff. I swallowed down the feelings that nagged at me and the large bright warning signs that flashed through my mind and agreed to this as well. Friends; that is what we had agreed on. Friends did not try to cut each other out of missions. Everything would be fine, we’d been getting along lately, sparring was fine, as was life in the compound. We could share a hotel room for a week without killing each other or repeating any extremely insane lapses of judgment. Yes, I was sure we would be fine. I continued to repeat this mantra in my head over the coming days, in training, at mealtimes, before bed.

Once I was asleep, I didn’t have to think about it because there was plenty to occupy my mind and dreams. At the forefront was the bespectacled man with the syringe. Each night when I closed my eyes, I was greeted by images of him, the music from the ballet was always ringing through my ears as he adjusted my binds and injected me with the undisclosed liquid. Some nights, however, it was different. Some nights I found myself in the sunshine walking along that unfamiliar city street, trying to catch up with the boy in the backpack. Even when I took to a run, I couldn’t catch up to him, I wasn’t sure why I so desperately wanted to. When I was awake it made no sense to me, but in my dreams, there was this peculiar feeling in my chest, a magnetism that propelled me toward the boy.

The wind twirled around my plaits, dancing across the expanse of my flesh and dusting over my cheeks as I returned to the street. I closed my eyes this time, listening to the sounds that surrounded me, trying to find something, anything to explain what I was seeing and why. At first, there was nothing, complete silence, but then, slowly I began to hear. At first it was the faint chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves. I listened harder and the sounds grew louder, footsteps bounced off of the pavement echoing in my ears, prompting me to open my eyes. A shoulder was the first thing I saw, he wore a dark blue sweatshirt, and the corner of a flannel shirt peeked out at me. I wanted to look at his face but my eyes remained trained along his shoulder. When my eyes finally shifted,  the white top he wore beneath his flannel was revealed. Two beakers with different colored liquids within them and a speech bubble extending from one.

‘Hey dude, I think you’re overacting!’ It read.

When my eyes finally reached his face, I realized that he was speaking. His eyes were trained on me, but I couldn’t hear him, his lips moved but no sound came out. I listened as hard as I could. It was as though I were watching something on the television, but the sound wasn’t connected. For a moment I could hear his voice, it was muffled, and I couldn’t understand any of the words, but I could hear him and for some bizarre reason, I felt relieved.

It was like this night after night. The boy would speak to me but none of his words resonated with me, yet each night I would stand before him and listen. Until one night, when things were different, his shirt was the same, stupid science joke, flannel, and sweatshirt over the top. But this time I heard him better, not completely but certain words made it through.

‘Pizza, the kind with the super stringy cheese.’ … ‘not supposed to fill up before dinner.’ …

Then there was something else, a single sentence that would stick to me like glue in my waking hours. Before I could dwell the man in glasses was back, but this time he had the syringe to the boy’s neck.

I lurched from my bed, sweat beading on my forehead. My heart was racing a million miles a minute, thumping against my chest. I pressed my palms to my head, running my fingers through my hair and taking a deep breath.

Cold seeped into my limbs as I walked toward the kitchen, stretching my arms over my head as I went. I sipped from my glass of ice water like a traveler who’d just spent days in the Sahara. The coldness soothed me slightly. A glow emanating from the sitting area caught my attention, the familiar theme song humming through the air. I leaned against the door frame watching Pietro sprawl out on the couch in front of the television. “You really like this show, huh?”

His head whipped around when I spoke, surprise etched across his features, though it quickly shifted into an easy smile. “Rumor has it I’m not the only one.” I rolled my eyes, unable to stop the smile from spreading across my lips.

“Whatever.” I dropped down onto the couch beside him.

He gasped fakely. “Giving into defeat so easily? What have you done with my Nadia?” I settled further into the seat, stretching my legs out to rest on the small table before us. My eyes fell on him then, he was already looking at me. “It’s late. Couldn’t sleep?”

I nodded gently, looking back to the screen. “You know I actually started watching this show because I struggled to sleep.” He raised his eyebrow at me. “It was a long time ago, they used to play reruns of episodes late at night, I just turned it on for white noise but then all of a sudden I’d watched half a season. It was just so easy.” Silence fell between us then. “It’s stupid I know.”

“It’s not.”

I turned my head toward him, leaning it on the back of the couch. He lay in the same position, face close to mine. “Why are you up?” I asked.

“Nightmare.”

“Same.”

“We’re going to Amsterdam in two days. I’ve never been, have you?”

I nodded. “A long time ago, I don’t really remember it.” His gaze burned into the side of my cheek. “It’ll be nice to get out of the compound for a while though.”

“Even if it’s with me?”

“We’re friends now, Pietro.” I looked over at him again, he wore an unreadable expression.

A hum came from him, followed by a nod. “Very special friends.” He was smirking now. That devious little look that made my skin burn.

“You’re very annoying.”

“Well, you’re the one who wanted to be my friend.”

It was astounding that the intensity of my glare didn’t cause him to burst into flames. “I hate you.”

“I don’t think you do.” He had this uncanny ability to make thinking straight impossible whenever he’d look right at me like he was now.

“What makes you so sure? I hated you once, remember?”

He hummed; we were so close that my air was his air. “No, you didn’t.” Before I could retort he was speaking again. “Not really.”

I raised an eyebrow at him, and my lips upturned very slightly. “You seem sure.”

“I know you, Nadia.” I opened my mouth but once again he beat me to the punch. “Deny it all you want but I do. Unfortunately for you, I see through you. You never hated me.”

“I threw a knife at you when we met, not exactly a gesture of friendship.”

He reached forward, dusting a stray curl from my eyes. “Hm, I think you knew I’d catch it; I think you were just playing coy.”

I rolled my eyes. “You are delusional, Pietro Maximoff.” His smile only grew. Once again silence fell between us, a comfortable, soothing silence, only filled by the low hum of a pop song playing on the television. We weren’t even watching it anymore.

…

We were leaving for Amsterdam first thing tomorrow. MI6 had sent over their files, and we were prepped to go. Tony and Maria Hill would be here at the compound on the other end of our comms awaiting intel.

I was currently teaching Pietro a selection of different chokeholds and debilitating holds. “Something about the name guillotine chokehold makes me think I don’t want you to demonstrate it on me.”

A cheeky smile took over my expression as I waved him over toward me. “You’ll be fine. Have I ever hurt you before?”

His eyes became the size of dinner plates then. “Yes!” He spoke disbelievingly.

“Stop being a baby, this won’t hurt.”

I moved toward him, gesturing for him to take up a defensive stance, when he was ready, I took hold of the back of his head. His hair was soft and a little damp from sweat but I didn’t mind. “Are you sure this is a fighting pose?” I chuckled, moving swiftly to bring his head under my arm while the other slid around it to lock him in. He made a sound of discomfort, before I dropped onto my backside, bringing him down on top of me and locking my ankles behind his back to trap him in my tight hold. He tapped immediately and I let him go, laughing at his expression of indignation. “It should not be so easy for you to do that.” He moved back to his feet quickly pulling me up with him. “Show me how.”

It was a simple maneuver, one that he picked up quite quickly. Or at least he partially got it. “You’re not going to choke me out like that,” I spoke nonchalantly, completely unfazed by his weak hold on my neck. “You’re not gripping in the right place and your guard is wide open.”

“My guard is not op-” Before he could finish, I’d slipped from his grip and put him on his back. “That was incredibly rude and plus if I choked you out, I wouldn’t have the pleasure of your incessant taunting.”

“Get off your ass,” I spoke walking back to the center of the mat. “You’re getting it, but you need to put pressure on the carotid artery to send someone unconscious.”

Pietro raised an eyebrow at me. “What am I a doctor? How the hell would I know where the carotid artery is?” His words and the frustration evident in them had my smile growing.

“It’s in your neck.”

“Great. Very helpful, sensei.”

My cheeks hurt from grinning. I took a few steps forward, looking down at his hand that hung idly at his side. It was a few long moments before I did anything. Pietro watched my every movement intently, not daring to glance away for even a second as I took ahold of his hand, situating it between both of mine to fold his fingers down so only two remained standing. Slowly I brought his hand toward myself, one hand sliding down to sit around his wrist whilst the other remained atop his as I pressed his fingers to the side of my neck, just below my ear. He did not speak a word as I dragged his finger along the flesh of my neck above the artery. I took a long, deep breath. His eyes glanced between mine and the hand that lingered on my skin, even after I let my hands drop back to my sides. “That’s the carotid artery.” My words came out as a mere murmur, quiet and soft; gentle. The way his fingertips felt as they slid across my collarbone dipping just a few centimeters lower before they dropped from my body.

The feeling of his fingers made my skin burn as if he’d branded me. I felt all day. Even on our flight to Amsterdam, a deep tingling warmth settled across my skin, the phantom of his touch. He’d been quiet, unusually so and it was beginning to put me on edge. The silence was sending me insane. It was completely unlike him to let me hear myself think. The truth was, I wanted him to talk, because when I was focused on him, I wasn’t thinking about the images that plagued my sleeping mind, the words that the young boy had spoken to me in my dreams. I assured myself that was the only reason I wanted him to speak.

The room was nice, spacious, and the beds were plush; even better, there were two of them. No more sharing, no more forced proximity to my companion who’d spoken a total of two words to me since we arrived.

“Is something wrong?”

He grunted out something that sounded akin to the word no.

“Convincing.” Still, he didn’t speak, instead, he opened his suitcase and began searching through it. Not even offering me a glance. “You know what, it’s good that you don’t want to talk about it. I’m glad because I don’t want to hear about it.” I turned away from him as I spoke the words, grabbing the file from my bag and walking to the next room to look over it. There really wasn’t much point, I already knew it like the back of my hand. We stayed this way for hours, in separate rooms, neither of us daring to speak a word to each other. I didn’t understand what was wrong with him, he’d been in a mood since we finished training yesterday.

As soon as his touch began to fade, I’d blink and feel it all over again. I clenched my hand into a fist, shaking my head. That was enough, the thoughts would stop because I would will them to. Just as I had with the memories of my dreams. The boy had been back each night, the same half-muted conversation, garbled words that were almost impossible to understand, and one phrase that sent a shiver down my spine. My phone buzzed on the table drawing my attention. An address and a time sent by Tony, followed by a message from Natasha that had me gritting my teeth.

‘Be safe… use protection.’

I slammed my phone face down onto the table. “We should eat something,” I said, re-entering the bedroom. Pietro didn’t even glance up at me. I softened my tone; slightly. “Room service?”

“I don’t know… sure, that sounds fine… I guess.”

I raised a single eyebrow at him, he still hadn’t looked at me. “Well, as long as you’re sure.”

The look on his face told me he did not appreciate my sarcasm, yet he didn’t say a word. He continued to stare down at his phone.

“Okay, enough! What is your problem?”

His head whipped up, finally meeting my gaze. “Are you serious?!” I narrowed my eyes at him. Pure exasperation was evident across his expression. “You, Nadia. You are my problem.”

I was enraged that his words struck me the way they did, made me feel something; something entirely unpleasant and wholly sickening. “What did I do?” My tone was cold, yet there was something small beneath the shield of indifference. Something trembling and hurt.

He was on his feet then, pacing the floor beside his bed. “You can’t seriously not know what I mean.”

“Most of what you say is nonsense, it cannot be surprising to you that sometimes I’m a little lost.” I could almost feel his anger from the other side of the room, it was palpable. Part of me was thrilled by it, part of me ached to keep prodding him, keep poking the proverbial bear. So, I did. “Well, are you going to say something? I’m on the edge of my seat here, really, you know how I love hearing your grievances.”

His glare almost had a laugh bubbling in my throat. Then, suddenly it dissolved into a mask of cool indifference. “What’s the plan for tomorrow?”

I was taken aback by his sudden shift, even his tone had changed. It was honestly a little impressive. “Not a chance, you started this, so finish it. Air your grievances, Pietro, tell me what’s got you so riled up.”

“We’re not talking about this now.” My eyebrows shot up at the tone he took with me. Bold.

“Oh, you’re telling me what we are and are not going to talk about? Is that what’s happening right now?”

He’d crossed the room in a few long strides. “What’s the plan for tomorrow?” His tone remained. “Are you going to tell me, Nadia? I know you have a plan, you’re nothing if not calculated.

I smiled at him, no doubt in my mind that the look was chilling. Amusement evident on my face. “You’re being a prick right now, it’s a little funny, but you should probably stop.”

“Is that what I should do?”

“If you know what’s good for you it is.”

His jaw clenched. “Tell me what the fucking plan is, Nadia.” His voice stayed even, not raised, same cold tone. There was fire in his eyes.

“Ask me one more time.”

He did.

My hands were fisted at my side. I had no clue what was going on right now. My body was so tightly strung I felt ready to explode, rage and something entirely different simmered in my belly, urging me to move toward him.

“I’ll pretend to be a new waitress at the coffee shop Tara Janssen frequents. You’ll pretend to be a customer. The plan tomorrow is the same as it will be every day for the next week, we will watch her and take notes.”

“So, what I sit around for a week and hope she accidentally tells us she’s a criminal mastermind?”

“You’ll sit down, shut up, and eat a fucking pastry until I tell you to stop. Is that clear enough?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair and turning away from me. “And you say I’m a prick.” Before I could even process what I was doing I was less than a pace from him and shoving him hard. He spun sharply on his heel to face me; disbelief evident on his face. “Very mature.” I went to push him again, but he caught my arm before I could, yanking me forward in the process. My chest was flush with his and as hard as I tried, I couldn’t stop my eye from dropping to his lips for just a moment. Before anything else happened, I yanked myself from his grip, turning away from him immediately.

“Stop now. That’s the plan, it’s going to be a long week, so just get some sleep. Lose the attitude too.” Before he could say anything else I’d stormed to the bathroom.

Our first day undercover had been much the same. A cold quiet breakfast where Pietro barely acknowledged me, a long boring day serving coffees and bugging the CEO’s phone. I’d been issued with a wig and glasses to complete my persona. Code name: Emma Salsberry, English university student studying abroad. It was an easy character; one I could play in my sleep. When we’d returned to the hotel, I’d set up our listening equipment on the dining table, lots of fancy tech things that would emit recordings caught from the target’s cellphone. Tony had explained it to me, but I hadn’t really been listening. Pietro dropped down onto the couch as I began to listen to the audio. MI6’s intel said she was supposed to be having a meeting at the coffee shop on Thursday. I spent hours there, listening intently to the CEO talk about menial things, it was endlessly dull.

“Why do we think that she’s guilty again?”

The first hint of normalcy from him. My head shot up at the sound of his voice, relief bathing over me at his perfectly regular tone. I shrugged. “Apparently, she stumbled upon something she shouldn’t have. I don’t know, MI6 are very cryptic.”

He nodded and then there was silence again. It was beginning to eat at me, the sound of the clock on the wall gnawing at my brain. Eventually, I could take no more and I stood to go take a shower.

“I’m sorry that I called you a prick.” These were the first words out of my mouth when I emerged from the steam filled bathroom, toweling at my hair as I went.

“It’s okay I was acting like one.”

Even in his acknowledgement his words were still cold, distant. They sounded nothing like him. “Please tell me why you’re so mad at me.”

He scoffed, running a hand through his hair, sending me a solitary glance over his shoulder. “I do not understand how you don’t know why I’m mad.”

I clenched my hands into fists, rage coursing through my veins. The anger management exercises were not helping so I stormed into the next room, however, it was only a mere moment before I lost control and stormed right back into the living area. “Because it comes easily to you!” I exclaimed, causing his head to whip in my direction. Shock written across his expression at my outburst. “All of this-” I waved my arms between the two of us. “It comes easily to you, so of course you do not understand. It does not come easily to me.”

“What are you talking about, Nadia?”

“I never learnt how to feel things! I learnt where the major arteries are, how long it takes someone to bleed out. There was nothing but the mission in the Red Room, that is all we were for, killing and completing the mission. For the majority of my life that is all I knew. Nothing else mattered, not emotions or these menial rules of politeness. I do not know how to feel things like normal people, and yes, I am aware that irrespective of this I do feel things.” I recalled Natasha’s words as I spoke. “But I do not understand my feelings, and understanding how other people feel is an entirely different problem. I don’t know when I’ve hurt someone, I can gather when they’re mad at me. It’s the why that I struggle with. I know that I’ve done something to hurt you, but please don’t ask me to guess how because that I can’t do.”

He looked at his feet for a moment before meeting my eyes, his were a fraction softer than before. “I know. I’m sorry that I was mean to you, but I don’t want to talk about this now.”

I nodded, fiddling with my fingers. “Fine we won’t talk… but you don’t get to keep treating me like shit, at least not while we’re on this mission.”

He agreed, a single firm nod of his head accompanied his verbal confirmation. I wasn’t entirely satisfied but at least we’d be able to get this done without killing each other… potentially.

[arecomicsevengood]

Grixly by Nate McDonough

A central appeal of these is the low price point, at $3 an issue, but McDonough is a very solid storyteller, presenting no bullshit strips usually in one-page format, about the world of hanging out in comic shops finding cheap stuff to flip on Ebay. (His store, holidaycomics, prices things fairly, and I would recommend buying from him.) The one-page, nine-panel format also lends itself to Instagram serialization, so you can read at least some of the strips there. Whether this comic would make sense to a reader not immersed in that specific vantage point, where you are into independent comics because of the the idiosyncratic voices on offer but can also see interest in mainstream comics of the eighties and nineties, if not the current era, I don’t know, maybe? Part of me wants to make the case that, as McDonough moves across the country, selling things online to people around the world, this feels less like a comic about comics and more about America, commerce, and consumerism, told through a specific lens. The landscape is a true working-class one, of small businesses, flea markets, and eccentricities. But at the same time, if I am going to describe the comic and the anecdotes contained there, my mind keeps flashing back to Nate mentioning the character Typhoid Mary, only to have someone respond that they hate her because she raped Deadpool. Politics are rarely explicit, but it’s pretty clear a lot of people that Nate encounters have had their brains cooked by either the backdrop of culture war or deep immersion in fictional worlds, supplanting reality so that friendly engagement with strangers is difficult. Still, Nate recognizes and feels affection for people that just want to burrow through longboxes alongside him in peace, maintaining the largely agreed-upon standards of personal space.

The consistency with which McDonough releases issues makes it feel like a blog or diary, not trying to present a point but to tell a story of his days. Like a more subculturally specific King-Cat, reading Grixly is a way of checking in with a guy with whom the reader will likely find a great deal in common.

[whitecatcrime]

hello! you can call me nix, nico, nate, or something else entirely if you want. (and if you know me by a different name, feel free to keep calling me that.) i'm also 27 and go by they/them or any pronouns ("any pronouns" meaning any that are okay for me as a white person to use).

some descriptors i use for myself are queer, neurodivergent, and disabled. i'm also engaged to @woofelss, but they don't use this website much. i spend too much time playing video games but i'm still not any good at them. some other more general interests include music, alt fashion, writing, streaming, reading, and more. due to my anhedonia, it's pretty hard for me to get into anything, so i often don't have many current and specific interests, but i've been spending a time working on music projects lately. (i've been taking voice lessons for a little over a year now and am now taking guitar lessons!)

notes: you might know me from vent as hidden or blooky, but i don’t really use that app much anymore. i’m also very bad at responding to messages for multiple reasons, but i do appreciate any messages sent to me. i’d also like to thank everyone who has sent me a message for their patience! please only follow if you’re 18+, and i’ll probably only follow back if you’re 20+.

links

more about

some sideblogs:

@nixstudies (yes, i have a studyblr.)

@cryguytv (stream blog.)

other socials:

cohost | twitter | instagram | bluesky | the storygraph | twitch

divider credit: @strangergraphics-archive

[ahjdaily]

Interview: ‘I hate karaoke!’ Albert Hammond Jr’s honest playlist (The Guardian)

Mon 17 Jul 2023 02.00 EDT • By Rich Pelley

The Strokes guitarist grew up on Phil Collins and has Cat Stevens as his alarm tone, but when it comes to the bedroom, he prefers a long player

For archival purposes, full text is stored below.

The first song I remember hearing: I would have been four or five, so I’m not sure if I can actually remember hearing Every Breath You Take by the Police, or whether it’s just a memory of my dad who got a copy and played it over and over. Memories are weird like that, especially when you’re really young.

The first single I bought: Once again, tough, but it was probably We Didn’t Start the Fire by Billy Joel when I was eight or nine. The one I clearly remember buying when I was a little older was Regulate by Warren G.

The song I do at karaoke: I hate karaoke.

The best song to play at a party?: That depends on the party, what vibe you’re trying to do. I’m not great at dancefloor parties, but I’m pretty good at curating a vibe at a gathering. I don’t think there’s a specific song that’s great to play at a party. It’s the variety that creates the vibe.

The song I streamed last: I’m a creature of variety, so Leave Me Alone by New Order.

The song I secretly like, but tell everyone I hate: I don’t hide like that. Growing up, I loved Elton John and Against All Odds by Phil Collins but it’s not something I find embarrassing.

The song I can no longer listen to: Probably all the ones I’ve had as my ringtone, including Sound and Vision by David Bowie, Homeward Bound by Simon and Garfunkel and Trouble by Cat Stevens. My phone’s ruined these songs for me. Now I have the theme tune to Knight Rider; I’m never going to listen to the whole song, so it’s fine.

The song I wish I had written: Moonlight Sonata by Beethoven.

The best song to have sex to: I have sex for longer than one song. I would say listen to an album, such as the Cars’ debut. It’s well paced. Side one ends with Don’t Cha Stop so you’ve got a good ramp there. Then you flip it over and you have a good ramp to the end. It’s always nice to have music on, whatever you’re doing.

The song that changed my life: I would say the band that changed my life was Guided by Voices. Why? There’s no answer for this kind of stuff. It’s like: why did you fall in love? Why did you do this? Who knows? If you could answer, you would probably disappear into the universe. I guess the whys for me are when there’s a gut feeling more powerful than language can describe.

The song that gets me up in the morning: I’ve told you this before: I have Homeward Bound by Simon and Garfunkel and Trouble by Cat Stevens as my ringtone. So those are the two songs that get me up in the morning.

The song I want played at my funeral: I always find that weird. I mean, I’ll be dead, so I don’t really care.

Honest Playlist: Albert Hammond Jr by Guardian Music:

Every Breath You Take - The Police

We Didn't Start the Fire - Billy Joel

Regulate - Warren G, Nate Dogg

Leave Me Alone - 2015 Remaster - New Order

Against All Odds (Take a Look at Me Now) - 2016 Remaster - Phil Collins

Sound and Vision - 2017 Remaster - David Bowie

Homeward Bound - Simon & Garfunkel

Trouble - Yusuf / Cat Stevens

Moonlight Sonata - Ludwig van Beethoven

Don't Cha Stop - The Cars

Game Of Pricks - Guided By Voices

[captainfightingflower]

Well since there’s talk about songs that fit Jackbox hosts/characters (at least from what i can find), i decided i want to sort of pseudo-share the songs i picked for some characters, yet without spoiling WHAT the songs are just yet!

This is how the post is going to go: Over to the left will be the hosts/characters/group i picked songs for, next to them will be the amount of songs i came up with them, as well as what game they specifically represent (if applicable).

I’ll also be specifying what songs in my list other people have ALSO compared to these characters, and whether or not i got the idea from another person (and who if also applicable). As well as slowly revealing the songs as soon as i myself make something combining the character and the song.

It’ll be like a fun little game, each character will be presented chronologically, with their oldest game appearing first and will be listed by who appeared first if two characters share a game in this list. Click “Keep Reading” if you’re interested in checking out my anonymous picks.

Jackbox Games: 1 song.

Mick/Jackhead: 1 song.

You Don’t Know Jack Series: 2 songs. Both remixes, one slowed.

Cookie Masterson: 9 songs. (2 YDKJ: Vol 1 [one used once], 2 YDKJ: Movies, 1 Fibbage 3, 4 YDKJ: FS). One daycore.

Nate Shapiro: 3 songs (1 YDKJ: Vol.1, 1 YDKJ: The Ride, 1 YDKJ:FS {TAKEN FROM UNKNOWN}). One cover.

Bob (HeadRush): 1 song. Slowed.

N/A (Word Spud): 1 song. Remix.

The Captain (YDKJ:TLG): 1 song.

Josh “Schmitty” Schmitstinstien: 4 songs. (2 Lie Swatter, 1 TMP 2, 1 Quiplash 3).

Octoputtz (Word Puttz): 2 songs.

Bidiots: 1 song. Used once.

Trivia Murder Party Series: 1 song.

Greed (TMP): 1 song.

Gluttony (TMP): 1 song.

Lust (TMP): 1 song.

[REDACTED]: 9 songs. (6 TMP [one used once], 3 TMP 2). One slowed & daycore, one featuring The Lovers (TMP 2) and two duets with The Darkness (TMP & TMP 2).

The Darkness (TMP): 1 song.

Serial Killer (MSM): 1 song.

Two Faced Creep (MSM): 1 song.

Werewolf (MSM): 1 song.

Zombie (MSM): 1 song.

Creepy Voice (YDKJ:FS): 6 songs [one used once]. {ONE TAKEN FROM @gloomyprincecos [used twice]}. One a duet with Elevator Lady (YDKJ: The Ride).

Toby & Lena (Patently Stupid): 1 song.

The Believer (TMP 2): 1 song.

The Sheriff (TMP 2): 1 song.

The Lovers (TMP 2): 1 song.

The Wheel of Enormous Proportions (TWOEP): 4 songs.

Masterson, C. (TJPP9): 1 song.

More can be added (or even removed), so i’m keeping these songs anonymous to reduce potential stress off of my shoulders. But, lest i forget about this post all together: you can expect to see at least a couple songs here get revealed once i do, in fact, do something with the song & character in question and post it publicly.

Strange? Yes, but i’d rather this post look strange than to stress myself out or to accidentally make false promises regarding content regarding a song & a character/group of characters (or embarrass myself if i end up going back on a character-song combo in the future).

[ackackh]

⭐ you KNOW i had to ⭐

This is so sweet, thank you anon!

Okay so I really feel like talking about God is a Bluegill, so I hope that’s okay. Personally, I think it’s the best fiction I’ve written, definitely the best I’ve published. I wrote for a long long long time to get my voice right for this piece. I still have plans to update even tho it’s been forever, but if it helps to understand the time perspective here, I started writing GIAB in /2017!!!!!/ and I didn’t publish the first chapter until like 2021? So this is a long labor of love, if you’re a fan of it, don’t lose hope that I will update, it’ll happen.

I was really specific when I started writing a cowboy fic that I wanted at least someone to /actually be a cowboy/ not just a western/outlaw thing. Hence Brad and Nate as cowhands. It also gave their characters the ability to have a long history in which they make a living together, spend most of their time alone together, have a pretty decent alibi for their deep connection to one another.

Though it isn’t so obvious yet, because it’s a long story and what has been published hasn’t discussed this yet, Ray and Walt are connected/will be connected through themes of time. For reasons that will become clear later, Ray is running from a past that haunts him, and Walt is running /back/ to a past he hopes is still waiting for him. They meet each other somewhere in the middle, and fall in love with each other as the only men who can understand this.

I haven’t been able to explore this (much) in what has been published, but there’s tons of like supernatural/biblical imagery, which I personally love because it terrifies me a little. And I can’t help but want to convey that specifically queer love is something holy, that two men loving each other is precious and dangerous. For me, using religious imagery is the best way to do that. At least in this story.

I’ll give you some info on the next chapter that will be published. 🥰 So it’s like the most dramatic chapter ever and writing it is a blast. Fick goes in for old-timey surgery to address his coyote bite, and there’s some stuff in there inspired by the surgery scene from The Eagle, so take from that what you will. Brad is a protective partner to a fault and self destructive in his health and habits. Ray starts to sort of fall for this mysterious stranger who’s walked into his life (Walt). AND I explore some of my OC’s (who I love like they’re my children).

I hope this was interesting, I can’t thank you enough for showing interest in my creative endeavors. Love ya! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[haledamage]

first of all, how dare you hurt me in this specific way that I asked you to hurt me in 💀

I love them both a whole lot, and love how AJ is sad but also hopeful and patient, whereas Mallory is full on "you kissed me and now I'm going to make that your problem" and I CAN'T WAIT to see how both of those go from book 4 onward!!

okay, HERE. WE. GO! Ramble time part deux

This ended up being a lot of Kira meta in general in addition to Kira/Adam 😅 I just have a lot of Thoughts and Feelings about my girl, and they demand to be expressed.

It's become very clear after the events of Book 3 - and again in the holiday special - just how much Kira was shaped by Rebecca’s absence. Even though she is close to her mum and doesn’t blame or resent her for anything… the empty house, and all the missed birthdays, and holidays spent alone, it all took a toll on Kira and on how she builds relationships with other people.

And I think Kira is starting to realize that now too. That she makes herself smaller, emotionally speaking, so she won’t be a burden. She doesn’t ask for help, she doesn’t complain, she doesn’t ask for more than she’s given. She lets others have the spotlight, and is content to support them from the sidelines. She even dresses like a stagehand, plain and nondescript black to blend into the background (though that wasn’t the intention when I made her).

I’ve made the Elsa from Frozen comparison for her more than once. “Conceal, don’t feel, don’t let them know” could be Kira’s mantra. (I actually added “Show Yourself” from Frozen 2 to her playlist recently, it’s an absolutely perfect song for her post-Book 3)

She is starved for attention, but doesn’t know how to handle it when she gets it. She gets defensive and withdraws whenever someone compliments her, and she gets shy and awkward at any hint of affection for or interest in her.

It’s something she acclimates to, eventually. Having a team, which becomes having friends, which becomes having a family. But it’s a struggle to accept it, at first.

And obviously this manifests differently depending on which romance route she’s on (it is in fact the central romantic conflict between her and Nate (they’re too much alike and don’t know how to react to someone who tries to put them first) but that’s a rant for another day 😉), but with Adam… god. Adam makes her want to take up space. From the moment they met, when he was trying to push her around, she surprised herself by pushing back, by raising her voice and telling him “No. You aren’t in charge here, I am.”

By the time Book 3 rolls around, they’ve figured out how to fit together and share the spotlight. Not only is Adam willing to listen to her, he’s actively seeking out her counsel in situations that play more to her strengths than his. Kira trusts and respects him as a leader, backs him up and supports him without argument (mostly). They’re partners. This is true whether they’re friends or almost-maybe-lovers, but it’s obviously a lot more intense on his romance route.

They have a sort of… unintentional honesty with each other, especially when they’re alone together. Like they both forget to put on the armor they wear with everyone else. 

When Kira asks Adam about himself, past and present, he answers. He tells her about his family, about his beloved car, about bearing the burden of nearly a millennium of life, about what he wants (her) and why he feels that he can’t have it (her). 

And when Adam asks Kira the same questions, she answers too. She tells him when she’s not okay, and when she’s in pain, and about how lonely and lost she is. About her nightmares. About Mum, and Rook, and the struggle to be something more than a shadow of legacy cast by her parents.

She lets herself be vulnerable, and Adam tells her how strong she is for it. That scene after the building falls on her (the warehouse, that is. Not the apartment building. If I had a nickel for every time…) was a Moment™ for her. Allowing herself to be taken care of, to bare herself to him like that (figuratively but also literally in this case), and he admires her for it? If she hadn’t already been in love with him, that would’ve been what sealed the deal.

(She already is in love with him, of course. She’s known it since the fight with Murphy in the rain, though she didn’t actually call it ‘love’ in her head until she got “Tu Omnia”’d)

So of course she took the “too late” option. Of course she told him how she feels, even though it just makes it hurt worse when he leaves. She couldn't lie to him about it even if she wanted to.

Kira Kingston has very high pain tolerance. She can take it. Even if it always hurts, even if that one (life-changing, heart-stopping, world-ending) kiss really is the only thing she ever gets from him and they spend the rest of their lives pining, she can take it.

But she’s not going to pretend it’s not there. She’s going to take up space. She’s going to ask for more than she’s given. She wants him, and she is going to make sure he knows that dammit. She’s going to remind him, every day, even if they both live another thousand years: “I’m still here. I love you, and I’m still here. What’re you gonna do about it?”

To go with your analogy, if AJ is a gentle stream and Mallory is a raging river, Kira is a frozen pond. Still and patient, willing to wait as long as she needs to... but also inescapable. At least until the weather heats up, and she starts to thaw ;)

@haledamage *cracks knuckles* ALRGHT THEN, can't wait to see the Kira ramble

I've already talked a little about how their different reactions in The Scene make me wanna chew drywall, but I'll refresh on that as I go. I think a lot of the differences and what makes them so DELICIOUS comes from the fact AJ and Adam are v different and Mallory and Adam are so, so very similar(the number of times Nate compares Mallory to Adam in their romance AU makes me laugh)

AJ, ofc, did the "what if we don't break?" response bc she's very much a "you'll never know if you never try" kind of person. Sure, maybe there's a 2% chance of success/no pain if they go for it(she personally thinks it's much higher), but there's a 0% chance if they deny something they both clearly feel and want to happen. She gets that Adam is trying to spare them both future pain of loss(a level of loss he's experienced before, which she can glean from the "again" even if he hasn't gone into detail about what happened to his family yet). She does. BUT his solution to avoiding potential future pain is to cause definite current pain. That doesn't make sense to her. Especially bc if something were to happen to him; seriously injured yet again or GOD FORBID killed, IT'S STILL GOING TO HURT. She still loves him even if he's not willing to let them be together. Can't speak for him, but suspects it would be the same. :) Just bc they're not acting on it doesn't make the feelings go away.

Her "going forward" is gonna be more of what's in the ficlet, not hiding that she loves him, not pushing too hard, just unobtrusively but relentlessly making him aware that whenever he's ready so is she. She doesn't want to pry for what happened to his family, what made him feel like this, worry about being broken bc he cares deeply about someone(spoilers, Adam, you care about Bravo. You care about Rebecca. You're still fucked even if you don't let yourself fall in love :)))) ), but even without details she understands it was Bad and she gets the desire to flinch away from a potential repeat of a pain you've experienced. Burn your hand, you don't touch the stove. Fall through ice, you don't walk on frozen rivers. etc etc. But she also feels that no matter how valid that fear might be, he needs to work through it(that feels like wrong phrasing >.>) bc not letting yourself get close to people for fear of how much losing them will hurt is no way to live. Especially when you're immortal. And maybe that's naïve bc she is mortal instead of being a 900 year old vampire. Maybe she'll feel differently after she's watched her mother and Tina and Verda's kids all age and die. But maybe she won't. Maybe loving people is worth enduring the chance/certainty of their loss.(Might do something in this AU with the fact she had a cat who died of old age a couple months before book 1. Much smaller scale, but she does have a little experience with loss of something beloved. And she wouldn't trade the years she had and loved her cat to avoid the pain of losing her, that would be silly.)

And Mallory. haha prepare for Mallory's Bold stat to SKYROCKET.

She's been trying to ignore, deny, and explain away the fact she's falling for Adam since late book 1, juuuuuust ignore she got worse PTSD from Murphy stabbing him than anything the asshole did to her. :) She still has nightmares about it. :))) Trapper fight too :))) The truth almost managed to escape after book 2 combat training, but she shoved it away, only to have TU OMNIA smash the walls down into little teeny tiny pieces she'd never put back together. (Love having a language nerd romance Adam "mutter in Latin so people don't know what I'm saying" du Mortain :). She DOES, buddy boy. It's fun) she still kept it kinda buried bc he was so clearly trying to deny/get rid of his feelings, and she already got her heart broken once by Bobby, she doesn't want a repeat of that. But the STUFF in book 3, man. And that my proud, cynical, STUBBORN AF, "I'm not fragile, Adam"// "I can handle myself" girl deliberately let herself be vulnerable enough to say "Too late" when he says he can't let her fall in love with him makes me SCREAM. She knew it was going to hurt. She knew it was going to break her heart. She did it anyway. She loves him enough to let him hurt her like that. Bc she had to tell him. She's honest, outspoken, reckless and so in love with him she can barely breathe, OFC she had to tell him even if he refuses to do anything about it.

But now, ohoho, he's admitted he loves her, and knows she loves him. The dam is finally, FINALLY broken, the river is raging, and good luck stopping her. She's gonna be way more open and blunt and vocal about how stupid she think it is to deny their feelings for each other. example: I DID NOT FINALLY GET OVER YEARS OF BLOODY BOBBY MARKS CRIPPLING MY LOVE LIFE TO ROLL OVER AND BE RESIGNED BC YOU'RE AFRAID OF GETTING HURT DU MORTAIN. DOES THAT SOUND LIKE ME?!?!?!?! (Do you know how long it took me to admit to MYSELF and sort-of kind-of to SOMEONE ELSE that I love you??? I can't back down NOW)

Mallory loves a challenge. She is encouraged and inspired when given a challenge. She also HATES IT when people tell her what to do, especially "for her safety". And Adam's whole "I will not allow you to fall in love with me" hits BOTH of those buttons. He literally could not have made her more interested in pursing him if he'd confessed his love and asked her on a date. xD Telling her "You can't do this, you'll get hurt" and thinking that would stop her???? Instead of make her chase it more stubbornly and blatantly????? Do you know her at all, Adam????? (Mason's gonna have a ball watching/abetting her in book 4 and I"m here for it)

tl;dr, AJ's a gentle stream, Mallory's a raging river, but they WILL both wear down the rock that is Adam du Mortain's obstinate refusal to pursue their mutual attraction, and it's gonna be delicious to watch.