#I think this is slightly incomplete but hey it mostly done

[enquire]

TDP: The Terry Mystery

Why is Terry aligned with Claudia and Viren, and why doesn't he hate dark magic?

Contains spoilers for TDP season 4

This was a question I noticed a lot of fans posing. And it's definitely one of the as of yet unexplained things in the show I am intrigued by right now. I think it's likely that the explanation, and the specifics of how he met Claudia, are being withheld purposely by the show creators.

So, the question is, what is it?

What we know about Terry:

-he was not supported by his village when he expressed he wasn't 'a doe' but realized he was 'a buck' and while it's not directly stated what the Earthblood elves around him did or said, it's clear that he was discriminated against and doesn't express positivity toward his home or any desire to return there at any point.

-Terry has anxieties relating to not being accepted, he is nervous in many interactions and he seemingly has enough knowledge about anxiety/panic attacks/trauma responses to notice what's going on with Viren while climbing and help him through it later.

-Terry chose his new name before meeting Claudia, and was out as a trans man in his village before leaving home or meeting her. He didn't begin transitioning until after he chose his name, but its unknown when he started transitioning or if it was while he was still living in his home or if it was before or after he met Claudia.

-Terry believes that dark magic can be used to create better outcomes, and has seen it help him and Claudia. He seems to hold a neutral stance toward it, judging actions and consequences separately from the use of dark magic itself.

-Terry met Claudia in the two year gap where Viren was undead, and the two of them were dating before Viren came back. We don't know how long they've dated, but they do seem to know a lot about each other and have several inside jokes and do other things that suggest they've been together a while.

-Terry is seemingly aware of everything Viren and Claudia did and what they plan to do next. We don't know how the events of previous seasons were relayed to him, or if anything was left out, but he doesn't have any problem with dark magic inherently, and regards Viren with awe. Claudia was probably the one to explain her and her father's involvement, since it seems likely (given their responses to Zym and the humans and eleves with him, as well as their lack of presence at the Spire) that the Earthblood elves of the Uncharted Forest were detached from previous events. So Terry probably didn't know many details about what happened before meeting her.

Potential Explanations

A. Uncharted Forest elves don't have the same opinions of Dark Magic and/or humans as the other elves we've met so far, and this view led to Terry having neutral opinions on it before meeting Claudia.

B. Terry saw Claudia do something with dark magic that was for a good cause and led to a dramatically better outcome than what would have happened without. Something that would have led to his belief that dark magic isn't inherently evil or wrong, because Claudia did something that good using it.

C. Claudia put a spell on Terry, with the primary or secondary effect being that he changed his mind about dark magic being evil.

I think explanation B would really fit how we see him behave in the show. But, I think we can get a little more specific as to what the spell was..and I think it's likely that said spell was a transformation spell. One that Claudia used to give Terry a body that actually is his own. Maybe this seems a little too specific, but right now, we have very little info about Terry's experiences. But we do know Claudia is accepting of him as he is, and seemingly his home wasn't.

If Earthblood elves had a way to transition using their own magic, even if being trans was still stigmatized and led to him becoming an outsider, you would think he would still have some connections. As things stand we have reason to believe he's cut off all ties with his home, and that doesn't make a lot of sense if a few of them had helped him...

But it makes a lot of sense for Terry's motivations if Claudia did so. That she was the first one to see him as he was. And then, at some point, offer him the ability to transition via black magic. If dark magic had saved him in this way, it would explain how he reacts in the season in different scenarios.

Things like how he reacts when Claudia uses dark magic to cause harm without reason (like after the coin pouch scene), or how attached he seems to be to Claudia (and Viren by extension). Also, using this example (someone being able to magically transition after being discriminated against/having no way to stop his dysphoria) to show dark magic in a less black-and-white way would be a pretty impactful and strong way to do so on the creators' part.

This also adds a lot more weight to Terry's loyalty to Claudia, and why he is connected only to her and Viren...and gives us an insight into why it would be very difficult for him to break his relationship with Claudia, even if things take a turn for the worse.

[dotthings]

So here’s my thoughts on an alternate ending plan for S15. While the remade heaven was something that fit, very little else did, and if they were aiming for self-actualizations being fulfilled the ending didn’t convey that. It feels incomplete to me (I have posted enough analyzing why and that’s all I’ll say here). This is a more earth-bound take. An ending where all of TFW 2.0 defeat Chuck and are together and figuring out life free of Chuck’s maze. This also incorporates some of my previous meta spec that didn’t get addressed at all in the finale but things are left so ambiguous, I have no reason to think my spec can’t be canon now. Also I think if canon can screw things up this royally, then I’m allowed to state that my version is not only kinder, but makes more sense. I’m sure there is some loose end I’ve missed, and I’d want to have all the Wayward Sisters appear too. Gosh, endings are hard!

Envisioning this as one extra long episode. To be extra subversive I’m still using the start of ep 19, but mostly this diverges after the end of ep 18.

-the phone call from Cas in ep 19 isn’t a troll from Lucifer (Lucifer can stay trapped in The Empty for all eternity). It’s actually Cas.

Here’s what happened: The Empty took him, fulfilling Cas Jungian arc about confronting his shadow and instead of fighting it, accepting it as part of himself. Inside Cas, a soul has been growing for many seasons now. Spontaneous soul combustion. It started small and kept growing. The act of confessing his love to Dean was the final spark to complete the growth. As The Empty drags Cas away, Cas’s grace merges with his soul and the grace is the power jolt it needs to make his soul blaze to full life. His grace is effectively gone, burned out in the act of bring his soul into being. The Empty cannot hold him, his soul is pure, and he’s not filled with self-loathing. The Empty spits Cas out in Lawrence, KS because that’s where Cas’s soul home beaconed to. Effectively human, this process was fairly traumatizing to his body, so he’s weakened. He staggers across town to outside the bunker, calls Dean, and collapses. Dean (as we saw in ep 19) races up the stairs and reaches Cas first, but Sam isn’t far behind, and both boys help Cas down into the bunker. Dean, being Dean, can’t stop touching Cas. There’s some awkwardness after Cas’s confession but they aren’t going to talk about it yet. Dean’s just relieved to have Cas back

-Jack’s also overjoyed Cas is back. Cas explains to the fam what happened and that he has a soul now. This will change the dynamics of TFW interact, changes Cas’s demeanor slightly, and how Dean and Cas interact, but Cas’s personality is basically the same

-Michael sides with TFW. His decision to stand up to his father is sincere. There are Cas and Michael scenes where they start reaching some kind of understanding of each other’s pov

-There is a further scene showing Sam mourning the snapped Eileen, as he finds something that belongs to her in his room

-They hatch a plan to confront Chuck. Cas assumes he’ll be joining them but Dean balks because Cas is freshly human and not battle-ready. “You and Sam are human, and you’re going into battle” Cas argues. Dean’s not really being logical about this, so Dean and Cas bicker while Sam, Jack and Michael have to go guys? Guys? Evil god to stop? World to save? “Get a room,” Sam snaps.

-Dean wins the argument, mostly because Cas has to give in just so they don’t stay derailed. They proceed with Cas holding down the fort at the bunker in case they need a further spell or information from the MoL archives

-They confront Chuck at the beach. Following some parts of ep 19, Chuck starts pettily beating up Sam and Dean, who refuse to give up. Sam and Dean shoulder to shoulder, laughing at their enemy through their bloodied faces. (That was a good moment, I’ll keep that) Michael intervenes, Chuck tries to destroy him but Jack steps in. Chuck is fending both of them off for the moment. Kind of looks like Chuck might overpower all of them. He raises his fingers to snap them all away

and a familiar voice yells HEY ASSBUT. Cas hurls a magical molotov cocktail at Chuck. Because Cas he found a spell, and while the thing certainly won’t kill God, it certainly makes for a great distraction. Chuck’s body burns for a moment, and then the flames go out with Chuck unharmed. The distraction allows Michael to get the upper hand enough for Jack to grab Chuck and absorb his powers and render Chuck powerless. They all leave Chuck on the beach.

-Michael looks deeply amused by the cocktail. “At least you didn’t hurl it at me this time”

-unsnapped Adam switches in.

-Sam and Dean look beat to hell. Cas says something sad about how at one point he could have healed them with a touch but he can’t now and Sam and Dean reassure him it’s fine. Cas asks Jack to heal them and Jack says he’s going non-intervention God and yeets. Sam, Dean, and Cas seem taken aback by this move and their son vanishing into thin air

-Michael switches back in and offers to heal them but Sam and Dean refuse again. Cas rolls his eyes. Typical Winchesters.

-Sam calls Eileen. “Eileen, are you okay?” All is well. Dean checks on Jody and the girls. They’re fine. Everyone unsnapped.

-Adam switches in again to say goodbye but maybe see you soon, shakes hands with Sam and Dean. A promise of maybe someday they could figure out how to be family. “Where you headed to now?” Dean asks. “Around, I guess,” says Adam, and then Michael switches back in and says “the french fries on earth are worth hanging around for a bit” and Michael yeets out.

-They won. They’re free. Chuck’s defeated, Jack is going to be a new, uncorrupted God. But wait, there’s still half an hour left, what’s left to resolve? What else could there be?

-We get a montage. Sam and Dean continue to hunt, the bruises and cuts on their faces from the battle with Chuck fading. A scene of Dean giving Cas shooting pointers and Cas is a pretty decent shot but maybe he should hold the shotgun a bit higher. Dean sure does keep touching Cas a lot when it’s not necessary. They still haven’t talked. Sam doing laundry. Dean studying a job application at the desk in his room. The bruises and cuts from their fight with Chuck are almost gone. Eileen hanging out in the bunker, she and Sam doing research at the library table, laughing as Sam makes a joke.

-Sam, Dean, and Cas get wind of ghoul activity and set out on a hunt together. Dean and Cas are waiting together, leaning against the Impala, while Sam is inside a gas station getting them all snacks.

Dean: Are you okay with this? Human...forever?

Cas: I’m adjusting. Rather enjoy being able to taste the pb&j again.

*Awkward silence*

Dean: Cas—what you said—I—

Cas: It’s all right Dean. You don’t have to say anything. I told you, it’s not about the having, it’s—

Cas doesn’t get to finish the sentence because suddenly Dean’s holding his face in his hands and then leans in and kisses him.

Dean pulls back, staring right at Cas’s stunned pikachu face.

Dean: What makes you think you didn’t already have me?

They hold each other. Sometimes it’s not in the saying it’s in the actions.

Sam, who just emerged from the gas’n sip station, stands there holding packets of junk food and yells “FINALLY!” and Dean and Cas jump apart. Dean is beet-red but both Dean and Cas look happier, more peaceful than we’ve seen them look in a very long while.

-Standard hunt. They kill some ghouls, badass Team Free Will action scene. Cas gets taken off guard, but Sam has his back.

-Back at the bunker. Sam answers a text from Eileen—they’re meeting up next week.

-Sam, Dean, Cas are in the bunker having dinner when Jack randomly appears. Raises his hand. “Hello!” They’re all startled, but tell Jack they miss him. “You don’t write, you don’t call,” Dean complains. “Well,” Jack says. “I figured just because I’m non-interventionist doesn’t mean I can’t stop by for dinner once in a while.” “Darn right,” says Dean.

-TFW 2.0 have dinner together. Jack mentions he remade heaven, no more barriers. Released trapped souls like Kevin’s to heaven. New set of rules. Mentions he met with Rowena. They’re working out a better system. Reform.

“I would have gotten rid of the monsters,” Jack explains, “but can’t do it without upsetting the natural order of things—what’s done is done. The alternative is to reset everything. I won’t do that. Too much would be undone, too much good lost.” The implication is also: while he won’t intervene and be the God perching on Team Free Will’s shoulder, he also can’t bring himself to do anything that will undo them. “Sometimes it’s all worth putting up with a few monsters,” Sam says.

Jack vanishes again. “Guess we’ll get used to that eventually” says Dean.

-very last shot. It’s dusk, outside the bunker. Sam and Dean leaning on the Impala, watching fireflies, drinking beers. Not talking, just being.

Dean: We did it.

Sam: We did it.

Dean: Well, here’s to freedom.

They toast their beer bottles. Both look more peaceful than we have seem them look in a very long time.

Overhead shot of Sam and Dean, the Impala, the bunker.

*Kansas version of Carry On, Wayward Son plays*

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

F.B.I. Behavior Analysis Unit

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (soon)

Genre: Just simple right now (nothing really)

Word Count: 1.2k

Summary: One agent is left on desk duty to reflect on certain things going on in her life.

A/N: Most of my writings for any ff I write are basically female inserts, also I’m still a new person to the show and fandom so just bare with me people. Also I use a lot of details of my life just to make it feel less incomplete so if you want reader to have specific details just let me know!

F.B.I. Behavioral Analysis Unit

Quantico, Virginia

“So how was your weekend?” Penelope asked with a coffee mug in her grip with her bright outfit and personality to bring light into the dull Monday morning office.

You were just dressed in the standard pants suit work outfit that everyone would mostly wear in your department since you needed to be a runner. The only pop of color you were wearing was your blue top. You had your cross bag slung over your shoulder and a couple of case files slowly spilling out of your grip. Luckily, you got to your desk just in time to slam them on the table.

You sighed with your head down and placed your hands on your hips. You lifted your head to still see Penelope’s shining smile while she was seated in your swivel desk chair. You noticed it was only the two of you and everyone else was nowhere to be seen; no one was at their desk or in their office and no one was in the conference room.

“Um, same boring simple weekend. Hey, where is everyone?” You breathed out to Penelope after analyzing the room for your friends/ co-workers.

She looked around the room to also notice that the others of their team aren’t anywhere in sight. She looked back towards you with a look of confusion, looking like she’s trying to remember something. Then her eyes widened and her mouth made an ‘O’ shape.

“They went out on an assignment. Remember you still have about a week of desk duty left before you can go back into the field.” Penelope spoke out with a lowered voice tone.

You just closed your eyes and sighed through your nose, pulling in your lower lip between your teeth. They just left you.

Stuck on desk duty.

Okay, so technically they didn’t mean to leave you. They had a job to do and when a case came in they would leave at a moment’s notice. Besides, since you’ve had desk duty for the past 3 weeks it shouldn’t be surprising to find them gone when you arrive later. It’s just been you and Penelope hanging out, either you in her lair when you’re taking a break from working on cases or her sitting with you at your desk to enjoy lunch together since you were cramming as much work in one day.

“Okay, so what was the case this time around.” You spoke as you motioned for her to get up out of your seat and to find her own chair.

“Oh, you know; big city, multiple women murdered, although this one comes with a poem calling card. Annabelle Lee.” She spoke.

You just nodded your head.

You removed your suit jacket and placed it on the back of your chair, then turned to your computer to boot it up. You then looked up and saw that Penelope was sitting at Spencer’s desk, touching his belongings.

“Hey, don’t touch those. You know he doesn’t like it when people even move them an inch out of place.” You scolded her.

Penelope just rolled her eyes at you with a smirk pulling onto her face. She knew about your little sweet spot for the young boy wonder. Whenever you went and got your coffee you would also bring a muffin or doughnut into the office and drop it off at his desk, since you would usually arrive just a few minutes before he got in. You’re the one in the room who enjoys hearing his endless rambling about the main random facts he knows. You keep a reassuring hand on his shoulder when you sense he’s slowly walking toward the edge of his mental cliff. 

He always caught your eyes at random moments in the day, even when you first joined the BAU.

…

“Everyone this is Agent (Y/n) (L/n) they just joined our unit after working with sex crimes for 3 years. You may wish for more introductions, but we have a case to work now.”  Aaron Hotchner finished off his introductions and went straight into the case thinking of only that for the moment.

You just stood in your spot seeing as all the seats were taken, also you didn’t feel like intruding in their space yet. You kept your ears open and your mind clear to make sure you were getting the information from mouth since you didn’t have a case file of your own. You made sure to take down mental notes.

Woman kidnapped from home. Found cuts and bruising. Found to have been sexually assaulted before death so the victim was alive for a certain period before the unsub killed them. Police found the body the next morning. The victim was taken in the middle of the night.

“Wheels up in thirty,” Hotchner said as he closed his case file.

Everyone that was seated, stood up, and walked out of the room probably to grab their go bags. Luckily you brought one with you to place under your desk whenever you would be ready to go out into the field, looks like today was the day.

Just as you were turning to leave the room and grab your bag, a voice spoke up.

“So what’s your first impression of the BAU.” A voice spoke, sounded young with a slight rasp in the tone.

You turned around seeing a tall, lanky white young male. He had a side part going to your left; his right. It looked like his hair was growing out, the ends tucked behind the ears curled inward towards his ears. He was wearing a beige cardigan with a white button-up shirt underneath a green sweater vest, a pair of dark brown pants, and nice dress shoes. His gun was holstered on his right hip. He didn’t look like an F.B.I. agent.

You just smiled to yourself, you're already analyzing people. 

“Um, fast-paced I would say.” You spoke with your smile.

The young male just stood there with his hands in his pants pockets, rocking from his toes to his heels. He pulled that typical ‘white person smile’ as the silence stood. You decided to restart the conversation.

“I’m (Y/n), but you already know that. What’s your name and your position on the team?” You questioned wanting to break the ice.

The male just laughed, more like a scoff probably with the way it sounds like you’re interrogating him.

“Well, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid. I'm an SSA on this team. I’m what Morgan calls the ‘resident genius’, I have an eidetic memory and I can read 20,000 words per minute and I read a lot.” Spencer voiced out to you, giving you more information than you expected.

You just stood there for a moment with your brows raised at this new information; interesting.

“If you two are done staring at each other, you have 15 minutes till wheels up.” A voice broke your bubble.

You turned around, but you just saw the back of the person walking away. You soon saw Spencer in your peripheral walking towards you to head out the door. You called out to him asking him to wait up with you, and oddly he did.

Oh, you know that you’re gonna become slightly distracted after today.

[worldsentwined]

Tagged by @shoreslip

Name(s): Kira, Kiraly (on AO3, Dreamwidth, Discord) worldsentwined (Tumblr, Twitter)

Fandom(s): So if we go by “has created fanwork for at some point” I have at least twelve under my belt, maybe more if I’ve made some fanart that isn’t on AO3. Currently my brain is pointing at The Queen’s Thief and The Murderbot Diaries, with a side order of DnD, but I can’t quite give up on my unfinished SSSS works. 

Where you post: Fic? AO3, with a rare ficlet on Tumblr. Fanart mainly goes here, when it happens. DnD character backstory is mostly just on Discord for now, I don’t know if it would be worth it to cross-post.

Most Popular One Shot (by kudos) this year: Contingency Plan 6186 words, 135 kudos

Most Popular One Shot (by kudos) Overall: Borrowed (The YOI fandom was SO good for my self-esteem, this one got like five comments within an hour of posting). 6106 words, 482 kudos

Most Popular Multi-Chapter (by kudos) this year: Oh hey, I actually did post a chapter of Every Little Thing He Does Is Magic this year! Time is totally fake. 31906 words, 40 kudos, I swear I will not leave you all hanging with the current chapter forever. 

Most Popular Multi-Chapter (by kudos) Overall: If we’re counting ficlet collections, it’s Vignettes with 8437 words and 145 kudos (technically unfinished, as I will keep dumping Emil/Lalli ficlets here if I have them). If we aren’t, it’s still Before It Was Cool even after all this time - 31899 words, 118 kudos, unfinished and increasingly likely to stay that way I’m so sorry y’all. 

Favorite story you’ve written so far: Oh gosh, I don’t know how to choose! Picking some from this year that aren’t already on the list, I’m so proud of how Seven Summers Ago turned out, Soldier, Poet gives me SO many feels, and it was so much fun writing Dear Mx. Machine Manners with Anrea and KalynaAnne!

Fic you were nervous to post: Ehhh I can’t remember any in particular...I think in general I get nervous posting my first fic for a new fandom, and anything for an exchange because I’m worried my recipient won’t like it. 

How do you choose your titles?: Sometimes I pick a silly title for the draft document and it ends up becoming permanent (looking at you, Every Little Thing etc.) Other times I get to the end and need a title, so I either 1) look through the fic for some good line I can steal from myself, 2) look through the source material or song lyrics to find a good line I can steal from someone else, or 3) whine at my friends until someone suggests something brilliant. Once in a while I come up with a random title out of nowhere, or figure out what I want the permanent title to be before I’ve even started writing...that’s what happened with Contingency Plan, I wanted something that resembled the book titles.

Do you outline?: Not usually? Sometimes for multichapter fic I write down ideas for what will happen in future chapters (I did this for Every Little Thing etc and it helped a LOT) but usually I just wing it.

Complete: 140 on AO3...if we’re counting the ficlet collections as single, complete works, which I am because I am too lazy to count chapters right now.

In-Progress: Uhhh...let’s say three incomplete on AO3, two of which have already been mentioned I’m so sorry and an absolute mountain of WIPs that haven’t been posted yet. The other partially-posted one is Piecing Together An Imperfect Archive, which I wrote for a writing challenge in 2019 and decided to continue. I actually worked on it some this summer, maybe one day I will pick it up again. It is original work and has like NO engagement on AO3 though, so external motivation is not high.

Coming soon/not yet started: Listen I do NOT need more WIPs...the QT Bakery AU has been progressing though, slightly morphed into a cross-town road trip AU. And I was working on a sequel for Waking Up during NaNo but lack of planning got me very lost, haha. There are also some ideas lurking from the Murderbot discord, we’ll see what comes of those.

Prompts?: I will never say no to prompts, but fair warning they might languish in my inbox forever.

Upcoming work you’re most excited about: I am excited for the Bakery/Road Trip AU to be done. Does that mean I’m actually working on it?? Debatable.

Tagging: anyone who wants to do this, I never know who has or hasn’t done these already. ^_^;

[arlingtonpark]

SNK Character Death Ratings

Hey, all!

Long time no see!

SNK’s end is nearing, so in this post I’m going to rate the chances of each character dying.

“Die” in this post means they are dead by the last page of the manga and are not indicated to die in the events immediately thereafter.

“Deaths”, for example, that are explained to happen after the events of the story are counted as surviving. As such, titan shifter death clocks do not count.

Chances of death will be rated on a sliding scale:

Safe Dead --> Likely Dead --> Lean Dead --> Toss Up --> Lean Alive --> Likely Alive --> Safe Alive

Let’s do it.

Eren Jeager: Likely Alive

Yeah, I think Eren will probably live.

In Attack on Titan, people only survive by making harsh sacrifices, and there is no way I’m taking time to establish that.

This has lead most of the fandom to believe the final sacrifice that will have to be made is killing Eren.

But, like, it’s really not much of a sacrifice?

Eren isn’t the guy who carried the boulder at Trost, anymore. Nor is he the guy who took down the Colossal Titan at Shighanshina.  

Eren is the guy who murdered humanity. “Warmongerer,” “murderer,” “traitor,” all these words describe him far better than “hero,” “friend,” or “Chad.”

So who cares if he dies?

Good riddance!

After everything that’s happened, I cannot see Eren’s death being realistically portrayed as a sacrifice. Frankly, the thought is laughable.

Eren is practically barking about how the enemies outside need to be crushed with extreme prejudice. He’s basically a Trumpist now.

All that said, it’s still believable that Eren will die before the end of the story.

Maybe Eren will die in the final battle, and SNK will just sputter to an end because the world is shit now, and any survivors will have to weather mass starvation, lack of shelter, no medicine, and who knows what else.

If the series tries to spin that as the beginning of a bright future full of hope, I’m going to laugh.

I also think it’s possible Eren kills his friends and lives. It has been foretold that Eren will win, whatever that means.

This “win” that Eren foresaw was probably incomplete, because that’s just how storytelling works, and we’ll learn that he actually “lost”. He doesn’t have to die, though, for that to happen.

We don’t actually know what Eren’s win condition is, other than that it entails Historia living (as in she’s still breathing when this is all over, her actual desire to live notwithstanding) and Eren’s enemies dying.

Eren’s enemies are dead or will die soon. Even if the Alliance kills him, they have nothing to return to. The world is dead. At this point, they’re fighting solely on principle.

Good storytelling usually emphasizes karma and just desserts.

…I think there’s a good chance Historia will die by the end, if only to ensure Eren doesn’t get away with what he’s done.

But Eren himself doesn’t have to die for this scenario to play out.

On balance, I think Eren living is slightly more likely than not.

Historia Reiss: Likely Dead

I’m really sorry to all the Historia stans reading this. Historia can’t catch a break, and I don’t think it’s going to get better.

Historia’s role as the damsel in distress so far has only made one thing clear: she doesn’t matter.

She’s a hot girl who exists to be placed in danger and spur everyone to action.

Historia has been nothing but fodder for Eren’s character development. I think it only makes sense for that trend to continue.

If Eren, the tragic villain, is favored to live, then storytelling logic dictates that Historia, the villain’s muse who inspires him to murder, must be favored to die.

If Isayama gave a damn about her character, it wouldn’t be like this, but this is the world we live in.

Cruel, yet oh, so beautiful.

Mikasa Ackerman: Lean Dead

If Eren is slightly favored to live, then Mikasa’s chances aren’t too great.

A tension is being built up between Eren and Mikasa: between Eren’s desire to wipe out his enemies, and Mikasa’s struggle to cope with that.

The reason Eren is likelier to live than Mikasa is because while Eren in eminently capable of throwing away everything precious to him, Mikasa…isn’t. Like, at all.

Mikasa has always been clingy towards Eren, but I will her credit: multiple times in this arc, people have openly talked about killing Eren, and Mikasa has not tried to murder them.

Mostly.

When Mikasa gets told to go somewhere else to contribute to the mission, it’s because they can’t trust her to come through for them if it falls to her to kill Eren.

Eren is prepared to kill Mikasa, but Mikasa still struggles with needing to let Eren go.

In this situation that is a critical advantage.

If Mikasa is supposed to fail to overcome her love for Eren, the series will almost certainly seek to highlight that by having her confront Eren directly and fail at the moment of truth.

If Mikasa is supposed to succeed in letting Eren go…well, Isayama may decide to kill her anyway.

The moment Mikasa resolves definitively to let Eren go, her character arc is complete.

After that, all bets are off.

Maybe she resolves to kill Eren, but fails anyway.

Maybe she kills Eren, and then dies. The world is cruel, and thanks to the Rumbling, it is also now ugly. Mikasa’s whole life has been crushed. Her dream was a simple rural life. That’s not possible anymore.

Like. In any form.

I think an ending where she dies after fulfilling her duty is not out of the question.

Armin Arlert: Lean Alive

If the Alliance has a good chance of failing, that means they all have a good chance of dying. I do, however, think he has a better chance than the others of living.

I think that with Paradis’ enemies wiped out, the Walldians will be in the mood for a more level-headed leader.

The thing about nationalists like Floch and Eren is that they’re only popular during times of desperation. After the people feel secure again (or the nationalists destroy everything and people realize how much they suck) they’ll usually gravitate towards a more traditional leader.

So I’m saying Armin could be the Joe Biden to Eren’s Donald Trump.

Basically, if Armin isn’t playing some leadership role post-Rumbling, he’s dead. That can happen even if Eren wins, though. That’s why I give him about even odds.

Now that Armin is in P A T H S, he’ll probably try to speak to Eren again. If SNK has any final reveals about Eren’s motivations, it’d happen here.

…I really don’t want the pregnancy to be real.

I really don’t want it to be Eren’s surprise motivation.

But if it’s coming, it’ll happen here.

I don’t know what Armin will do if Eren drops something like that on him.

Armin…isn’t as capable as people think he is.

His attempts to negotiate a peaceful resolution with the world were flailing and unsuccessful.

I don’t know how he’s going to negotiate with a dad who’s convinced that violence is the only viable option to protect his kid.

When Armin is the one who failed to broker a peaceful resolution to begin with.

When Armin tried to convince Connie to back down from violence, he was immediately shut down by Connie, and it was laughably easy!

Armin can’t even negotiate with CONNIE.

That’s the intellectual firepower humanity is relying on.

Don’t expect him to win.

(NOTE: Huh, you know, I never realized until now, but this series has totally ruined every major character. Armin is a useless idiot, Mikasa probably needs someone to hold her hand the rest of the finale, Historia’s been sidelined. What happened?)

Reiner Braun: Lean Dead

Ok, I know everyone thought Reiner would die last time around, but this time…

Eh, I think Reiner will die this time.

Reiner’s character arc is basically over. He’s found a new source of motivation in the form of Gabi and Falco, and he’s made peace with all the people he’s hurt.

There may be a scene coming where he reconciles with his mother. That would require him surviving the final battle, so I have him down as only leaning dead.

Annie Leonhardt: Lean Alive

Annie has a better chance at living than most everyone else, but that’s only because many scenarios where she lives or dies are easily foreseeable.

Maybe Annie is able to meet her father again.

Or maybe her father will die, and Annie decides to move on from her past and fully commits to Armin.

Annie’s character is in a different place compared to  the others. Most of the other characters’ arcs have been played out or will be by the time the series ends. Annie’s isn’t.

Annie has a burgeoning romance with Armin. And it’s a romance that could lead to children. We all know how much this series looooooves children.

I think Annie has a good chance of making it out alive, especially if Armin does too.

Jean Kirstein: Likely Dead

Sorry, but I think Jean is destined for the glue factory.

Jean had a chance to live a long, peaceful life when Floch offered it to him. He passed it up.

You might think Jean should be rewarded for his selflessness, but we all need to keep in mind that one of the themes of Attack on Titan is that if you end up sacrificing yourself for others….you end up sacrificing yourself.

Jean made his choice. He’s not coming back.

Connie Springer: Likely Dead

Connie is going to die for the same reason Jean is: it’s the path he chose.

He chose to make his mother proud by fighting for humanity, even if it’s a suicide mission.

It’s the path he chose, and that’s it.

Pieck Finger: Toss Up

Pieck is something of a wild card.

I list her as a toss up because she seems closest to Gabi, and I think Gabi has a good chance of living. If Gabi is going to survive, though, she’s going to need a new mother figure. Pieck would be great in that role.

At the same time, her character is not particularly important. I could easily see her dying just to give the final battle a higher death count.

Gabi Braun: Safe Alive

Gabi is one of the likeliest ones to live.

She’s not directly participating in the battle, she’s safe from the rumbling, she has a burgeoning romance, and she’s a kid.

Kids have died in Attack on Titan, but never one who’s a major character.

As a child, Gabi represents the next generation; the future of humanity. To fulfill that role, she needs to live to the end.

Falco Grice: Likely Alive

Falco is a kid, too, so ofc he’s bound to live.

Not only is he a kid like Gabi, he’s also in love with Gabi. I highly doubt this series would end with a burgeoning romance cut tragically short.

Individually, Falco and Gabi represent something important in Attack on Titan: the future. Future leaders, future workers, future caregivers. They are humanity’s future.

But as a couple, they represent something even more important than that: posterity. The promise of an ongoing future for humanity.

Falco and Gabi love each other. When they get older, they’ll marry, and they’ll probably have kids.

Attack on Titan always emphasizes needing to move forward. Falco+Gabi is how humanity moves forward from the Rumbling.

Levi Ackerman: Lean Alive

Yeah, really.

I think Levi is going to make it.

He’s a safe distance from the battle, he knows he can’t fight, and he knows that he’d fail to kill Zeke even if he tried.

What we saw in 136 was Levi starting to make peace with the fact he is not going to fulfill Erwin’s final order to him. He’s starting to see the big picture: his role was to create a better world for humanity’s posterity.

That’s why he chose Armin over Erwin. Erwin had played his part and earned his rest. Giving Armin the injection was a generational passing of the torch.

In light of that, Erwin’s final order doesn’t seem so important.

So if Levi stays rational, he likely won’t have to do anything that would risk his life.

He may well make it out of this.

Zeke Jeager: Lean Alive

Zeke is probably going to live just because he’s the one who’s been most obsessed with death. It’d be weird if Attack on Titan (which theoretically celebrates life) were to grant Zeke his death wish.

If Zeke has been imprisoned in some sense by Eren, then he’ll probably live on in some form, so he may not live in an “on earth” kind of way, but alive is alive, so I’m counting it that way.

Everyone on Fort Salta (inc. Onyankopon, Mr. Leonhardt, and Ms. Braun): Likely Dead

This one wasn’t hard to figure out.

Their lives are directly contingent on Eren losing, so if Eren is likely to win, that must mean they are likely to die.

It would be sad for Karina and Mr. Leonhardt to not reunite with their kids, but that’s not a major problem in the grand scheme of things.

Miss Kiyomi and Yelena: Likely Alive

They’re stranded in the middle of the ocean, but if Falco survives, he can come back and rescue them.

I think they’ll be alright.

Ymir Fritz: Safe Dead

She’s already dead, silly, so of course that’s her rating. :P

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Pure (5/14)

Summary: Belle wanted to wait until marriage before she had sex for the first time. It was the one thing that still stuck in her mind after leaving her small town upbringing steeped in religious doctrine and abstinence culture. When her wedding night comes, however, the purity ideals of Storybrooke’s sex education are hard to shake off, and making the transition from virgin to sexually active is more difficult than she anticipated. With the help of a patient husband, Belle begins an intimate journey into understanding her body, her desires, and her identity as a woman.

Rated: E

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[One] [Two] [Three] [Four] [AO3]

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Pure

Five

Gold had to admit that, prior to their wedding, he had not really given Belle’s virginity a lot of thought. Sex wasn’t the be all and end all of a relationship to him, and he’d been happy to wait for her. His own first time was so long ago and so unmemorable that he could hardly recall it.

In hindsight, he should probably have made more of an effort to discuss it with her so that they were both better prepared for the big night. In his defence, Belle had artfully shut down any conversation that he had tried to start on the subject, but he knew enough about her upbringing. He should have known that she wasn’t going to be magically completely relaxed about the whole thing when push came to shove.

The other reason that he had avoided the topic as much as Belle had was the fear that he’d end up patronising her. Belle lacked practical experience, but she didn’t lack knowledge. She was well-read; she didn’t need him to go back to basics. He didn’t want to treat her as clueless and naïve, but at the same time, the lack of communication between them on the subject had left him guessing him as to exactly how much she did know, and how many of the myths upheld by her incomplete education were lingering – her fears about hurting and bleeding on the first go being a case in point.

That was why he was so eager for her to set the boundaries of how far she was comfortable going at any time. He didn’t want to push her too hard and end up traumatising her, and he didn’t want her to push too hard in an effort to please him. He was sure she would have gone further last night; their current snail’s pace was at his insistence.

It was late into the evening when they got back to the hotel after the show, and Belle flopped back onto the bed with a resounding sigh of happiness and satisfaction.

“That was wonderful,” she said. “Normally, I’m one of those people who’ll always think that the book is better on principle, but I really enjoyed that. And I think there’s something special about seeing a show on Broadway. Well, apart from the price, of course.”

She held up her arms and Gold pulled her back into a sitting position.

“Aiden…”

“Yes?”

“Are you ok if we don’t do anything tonight? I’m exhausted and I just want to sleep.”

“Of course. We’ll take as long as it takes, you know that.”

“Yes, I know. But we’re on our honeymoon which sort of implies that we should be having all the sex, and we were kind of on a roll. I don’t want to lose the momentum and have to start all over again.”

Gold had to chuckle at that. “I’m pretty sure that sex is like riding a bike; it’s not something you forget how to do.”

“Hey, humour me here.” Belle batted his arm. “I’m still learning.”

“I know.” He leaned in to kiss her and Belle hooked her arms around his neck, pulling him in closer.

“I love you,” she said softly. “You’re so good to me. I don’t think that there can be many men as patient and understanding as you when it comes to all my stupid hang-ups.”

“They’re not stupid. Your feelings are always valid and should be respected.”

She let go of him and he began to get undressed.

“You’re not frustrated, are you?” There was genuine concern in her voice, her bottom lip worrying between her teeth.

“Not at you. None of this is your fault. I’m slightly exasperated by the town that you grew up in and their puritanical attitudes towards sex, though, I will admit that.”

“Well, that certainly makes two of us.”

“None of that’s directed at you, though.” Gold sighed, running a hand through his hair as he searched for the right words. “I’m just annoyed that it’s affected you so badly and knocked your confidence so much. You’ve overcome so much; we’ve laughed about all these ridiculous tales from your childhood in the past, and it’s sad that it’s had such a deep and lasting impact. At the same time, though, I don’t want to be too disparaging of it. It’s your home and your life, after all.”

“It’s my life, certainly, but I stopped thinking of Storybrooke as my home a long time ago.” Belle smiled. “You’re my home now. As long as I’ve got you, I can live anywhere. The moon if necessary.”

“Let’s hope it won’t be. There are no bookshops on the moon.”

Stripped down to his boxers, Gold went to brush his teeth; by the time he came back, Belle had changed into her pyjamas: a silky black camisole and shorts. He’d seen brief glimpses of them before when she’d stayed over in the summer, but something in his stomach still flip-flopped at the sight of her.

“You like?” Belle gave him a twirl as she headed towards the bathroom.

“Oh, very much so.”

Belle just grinned at him, and Gold got into bed, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about the last time he’d had sex with someone.

Cora had been an interesting rebound after Milah had left and taken Neal with her. It was a good thing that Neal had returned to his full custody when he had done and Cora had broken it off, unwilling to be considered as potential stepmother material. If they’d carried on much longer, the thing between them would almost certainly have turned toxic.

After that, Gold had sworn off women for life. Of course, all that had changed when he’d met Belle three years ago, but he’d had Neal cheering him on from the side lines all throughout his relationship with her.

Unlike his time with Belle, his relationship with Cora had been mostly sexual; they were completely incompatible in practically every other area except shrewd business sense. Even so, despite all the sex, he still felt closer to Belle, more intimate with her, than he had ever done with Cora. There was really no comparison.

He pushed the thoughts of Cora firmly out of his mind; he absolutely did not want to be thinking about his ex on his honeymoon, even if the thoughts were wholly negative.

Belle came out of the bathroom and slipped into bed beside him, cuddling in close. They were used to cuddling. Belle was an instinctively touchy-feely person and she hugged everyone; snuggling in close came second nature to her and it had never held any connotations of anything more. Even when they’d been curled up naked together on that first morning, they were enjoying the physical closeness more than anything.

Of course, having a naked Belle in his arms for the first time had certainly worked wonders for his own self-control. When she’d pulled her nightdress off and let him look his fill with only the slightest pretty blush rising in her cheeks, he’d been completely awestruck for what felt like an age.

He was glad that all her qualms about sex didn’t seem to stretch to nudity in front of him. Well, most of the time; she’d been rather out of sorts this morning, but Gold could piece two and two together with that one from what she’d told him of her dream and from the chaos in the bathroom. If he could convince her that masturbation was nothing to be embarrassed about and not necessarily something that should be hidden away, hopefully they would be well on their way to finding out what made her tick, and in doing so, making their moments together so much more enjoyable for the both of them.

X

Belle was still curled up close beside him when Gold woke the next morning, and he smiled. She could latch on like a limpet when she wanted to. For a long while, he just stared at the ceiling, waiting to feel her stir and wondering what would happen when she did; if she would have another episode like she had done the previous morning.

He brought his hand down beneath the covers to his cock, hard with morning glory and the closeness of a beautiful woman. At least that hadn’t freaked her out the first time she’d felt it. He wasn’t angry with her, far from it. Like he had said to her the previous evening, it was not their continued celibacy that concerned him, more the deeper-seated reasons for it, stemming from her childhood.

Gold was no psychologist and he didn’t have the first clue how to go about trying to break down the years of conditioning that Belle had been through. Looking at it in the cold light of day, he knew that he was just as out of his depth as she was, although in vastly different ways. He was stuck. It was all very well letting Belle take the lead and set the pace, but if she didn’t know what she was doing and was second-guessing herself all the way, then they would be in a constant stalemate. He didn’t want to rush her, but at the same time, it felt like she would probably need the guiding hand of someone more experienced to help her along and help her realise her needs and desires.

He shook his head, pushing unwelcome thoughts away and trying to see the positives as he slipped out of Belle’s hold on him and went into the bathroom. This would be a learning experience for the both of them, and they would come out of it all much stronger and with a much healthier sexual relationship. As opposed to the one they had now, which was non-existent and resulted in Belle having almost daily freak-outs. At least he knew that it wasn’t anything that he was doing that was causing her to freak out, more her own reactions to what she was doing. Or not even doing, just thinking. Honestly, some people, namely the ones who had taught Belle her most fundamental lessons about relationships, could take the whole ‘impure thoughts’ thing a little too far, in Gold’s opinion.

He looked in the mirror as he washed his hands, grimacing at what he saw there. He don’t know what about him had attracted Belle in the first place, he was simply grateful that she’d seen something worth pursuing, and he hoped to be able to keep that trust. She had not been at all covert about liking him in a romantic fashion. That wasn’t her problem.

Belle had overcome so much of her small-town upbringing that it seemed almost inconceivable that this one thing could have stayed with her for so long and affected her so badly. Perhaps it was because this had more of an impact on her self-worth, her moral value. Most of the other things that she had been taught and had since unlearned were so ridiculous and paradoxical that once she was out in the wider world and being influenced by a far different set of people and situations, they were easily forgotten about and explained away. Sex just wasn’t one of those things. It was a big thing that most people did, a phenomenon that was so incredibly widespread, yet so little talked about.

Even outside of Storybrooke’s closed-minded community, sex was still a taboo topic; just in different ways. It was still something that people didn’t talk about, but not because they weren’t supposed to be having it or even thinking about it. It wasn’t talked about because it just wasn’t. There was no rhyme or reason to it. Broken down to its base components, sex was just another thing that humans – that a lot of living creatures in fact – were able to do. It was neither a moral act nor an immoral one, it was just an act, and yet there was so much meaning attached to it. No wonder everyone was so obsessed by it.

His analogy the other morning seemed to have worked, so maybe the key to calming Belle down about the whole thing would be simply talking about it. It would be no good if, whilst seeking to break her free of the idea that good girls didn’t talk about sex, he didn’t talk to her about it. Communication was going to be key.

Deciding that staring at his reflection was making him morbid, he came back into the bedroom and slipped back between the still-warm sheets, taking Belle back in his arms just as she began to stir. She smiled up at him sleepily, and as she stretched, he noticed that her pyjama camisole had ridden low during the night, a little glimpse of nipple peeping out.

“Hey.” He leaned over to kiss her and she accepted him readily. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Better than last night?”

“Yeah.” Belle sighed and ran a hand through her hair, giving a rueful little chuckle. “I did make a bit of a fool out of myself yesterday morning, didn’t I?”

“It’s fine. You’re still learning. Once you learn that there’s nothing wrong in what you’re thinking, or dreaming for that matter, then I’m sure that you’ll be fine.”

“I know that there’s nothing wrong with it. I mean, on the surface I know that. I can tell myself time and again that there’s nothing wrong with it, that there’s no moral judgement on being sexually attracted towards my husband of all people; but knowing something doesn’t necessarily mean that you automatically believe it, or that it makes it any easier to forget what you knew before. Uff.” She rolled over out of his arms and planted her face firmly into the pillow. “Maybe I need a brain transplant,” she mumbled into the cotton.

Gold touched her arm. “Please don’t suffocate yourself, we’ve only been married for two days.”

She rolled over again and smiled, carding her fingers through his hair, playing with the ends of it.

“What shall we do today?” she asked.

“I don’t know. What do you have down on our crammed itinerary?”

“Well, there are all kinds of places that we could visit. I’d love to see the Met. But I didn’t make any set plans for today. There’s nothing booked, nowhere that we need to be at any particular time.”

There was something hopeful in her eyes, perhaps a little questioning as well, but ultimately Gold thought that he knew what she was driving at. She just needed him to take the lead, and Gold needed to hope that he wasn’t misreading her signals.

“Well, I suppose that we have been very busy with sightseeing these past couple of days, and it would probably do us good to have a more relaxed morning. And even if we don’t get to see everything that you want to see during this stay, it’s not like we’ll never have the opportunity to come to New York ever again.”

Belle grinned, and Gold knew that he had hit the right note.

“So, since we’re both awake, did you have any ideas about how you’d like to spend our relaxed morning?”

“I was thinking about the, erm, vehicle maintenance analogy from the other day.” Belle’s cheeks were flushing a little pinker. “I was hoping that we might explore that some more. Maybe continue on from where we left off the other night?”

Gold nodded, finally chancing to adjust her fallen camisole strap, his fingers brushing over her nipple as he did so. He felt her twitch under his touch, the little bud pebbling under his fingertips.

“Yeah,” Belle murmured. “Like that.”

He continued to touch her nipple through the silk for a while, before chancing to skim his hand a little lower until it was resting on her hip, the tip of his thumb hooked inside her shorts.

“I want to find out what makes you feel good, Belle. I want you to find that out too. I just don’t want you to feel uncomfortable about it. So, if you’re not comfortable, just tell me to stop, ok?”

Belle nodded. “I don’t think that you could ever make me feel uncomfortable. I trust you.”

“I’m glad.”

He began to pull her shorts down a little way, and Belle wriggled them off. He slipped his hand back round to her ass, about as far as he had got on their first night in New York, and he squeezed her cheek gently.

“What are you thinking about?” Belle’s voice was low and full of desire, but the question was a genuine one.

“Huh?”

“You’ve got your thinking face on.” She pressed a finger to the bridge of his nose. “You’ve got that little frown line. I’m the one who’s supposed to be overthinking everything, not you.”

“Yeah, I am thinking.” As much as he wanted to find out what made Belle tick, he wanted her to be an active participant in that process as well. She had already been taught that sex was something that happened to her, not something that she should want to take an enthusiastic part in, and he didn’t want to perpetuate that notion even if what was being done to her was much more pleasurable than simply being rutted like an animal. “I think, maybe, it would be more… educational and enjoyable if you took the lead.”

“What?” Belle sounded unsure, her earlier confidence waning.

“Well, like I said, I want to find out what you like, and I want you to find out what you like too. Maybe we can do that together. If you find out what you like, then I can follow your lead. You know your own body better than I do, after all.”

“I don’t know about that.” Belle sighed, before finding Gold’s hand on her ass and lacing her fingers through his. “I think I’m flying as blind as you are here.”

“There’s no sin in knowing what makes you feel good,” Gold said. As much as he hated to be using the word ‘sin’ in the context of the bedroom, considering the problems Belle already had with its connotations, but it felt like the one that would resonate with her the most.

“I know. I just…” Belle tailed off. “Isn’t this supposed to be about two people? Something that I have to do with my husband and no one else? Part of me assumes that includes doing it with myself as well.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Just because you’re doing some exploring yourself doesn’t mean that I can’t get in on the action too.”

Belle giggled. “OK. I guess when you put it like that. I don’t know that I’ll be any good at it. I mean, you saw what happened yesterday morning.”

“I’m still not entirely sure what happened yesterday morning other than you had a sex dream involving fauns in Central Park, and the bathroom looked like a small bomb had hit it when I went in there.”

“I was trying to take a look, you know, down there. With my compact. And then I managed to overthink everything, like normal, and I caused a small make-up catastrophe.”

“I see.” Well, that certainly explained that in full and confirmed some of his suspicions.

“So, you can see why I don’t have any more of a clue what’s going on between my legs than you do.” Belle managed to keep holding his gaze for a few seconds more before looking away in embarrassment, but she didn’t pull away from him, her breasts still pressed up against his chest. Gold untangled his fingers from hers and gently turned her face back towards his.

“Well, maybe it’s something that we can work out together. And if I’m here with you, then there’s no need to worry about doing anything without me.”

Belle nodded. “No, I guess you’re right. I like this loophole.”

Whilst it probably wasn’t a good idea for her to be thinking of it as a loophole, Gold would take whatever progress in the right direction he could get.

“So, how do we start?” Belle asked.

“Well, it would probably be a good idea if we could see what we were doing.” Whilst most couples’ first times would be consist of fumbling in the dark – his own certainly had done – this was no ordinary first time, and maybe a clear line of sight would be better. He began to push the covers down off them and Belle helped, showing no signs of self-consciousness. She was comfortable in her own skin for the most part, it was just when she started doing things to that skin that her troubles began.

“Now what?”

“Do you trust me?”

Belle laughed softly. “You already know that I do, Aiden. I’d trust you with my life, and I definitely trust you with this.”

“OK. So, what were you doing yesterday morning? How were you, well, positioned, for want of a better word.”

Belle sat up, grabbing the pillows and pluffing them up against the headboard, then she looked over at him, looking nervous again.

“Aiden, will you hold me?” she asked quietly. “I don’t know why, but I feel safer when you’re holding me. I feel less like there’s some unseen force watching me.”

“Of course. You know, we can stop any time you want to.” Gold sat back against the headboard and Belle settled herself between his thighs, leaning back against him his chest with a contented little sigh and bringing his arms around her middle. Gold pressed little kisses to her shoulder and the side of her neck, and Belle gave a little grunt of pleasure.

“I don’t want to stop,” she said eventually. “I just don’t want to feel like I’m being watched when we do it.”

They stayed sitting in that aspect for a while, until Belle let her legs fall open and slowly brought one hand down between them. Gold watched over her shoulder as she parted her nether lips.

“I don’t know where to start,” she mumbled. “I’ve read so much, and I’ve seen enough pictures, but I still don’t know where to start when it comes to touching myself.”

“May I touch you?”

“Yes!” It was so quiet and so desperate at the same time, almost a plea, and for a moment, Gold didn’t move. This moment, touching Belle so intimately for the first time, well, it felt like it needed some kind of gravitas about it, not that any of his previous first encounters with women had had anything of the sort. Everything was more intense with Belle, and not just because of the long wait before anything had happened.

He slipped a finger between her folds, gently seeking out her clit and coaxing it out from its hood, rubbing little circles around the little nub as it swelled for him. Belle was wriggling in his arms, a little sob-like gasp escaping her.

“All right?”

“Yes. Yes, I like that.”

He kept touching her, listening to her moans and gasps, feeling every eager twitch of her hips, until her hand caught his and she whispered for him to stop.

“Are you ok?” He wasn’t alarmed per se, but he’d already decided that talking was going to be their biggest asset as they went on this journey of discovery together.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine, it feels good, it’s just… too good, if you know what I mean. It’s too much.”

Gold moved his fingertip away from her clit, rubbing along her folds. He could feel that she was getting wetter, not dripping with arousal but he was definitely spreading warm slickness around as he touched her, and the feel of it made his cock surge into eager life, demanding to sink into that wonderful wet heat. Belle shifted in his arms again as he continued to touch her, rubbing up against his erection, and Gold groaned with the friction. Belle glanced at him over her shoulder; her eyes were wide and bright with want and her face was very flushed, but she didn’t seem uneasy, not yet at least.

He gave a final stroke along her folds and paused at her entrance.

“Are you ready for a finger inside?”

She hesitated, which in Gold’s book meant no. If she wasn’t comfortable enough to say yes immediately, then she wasn’t comfortable enough, period, and she eventually shook her head.

“No. Not right now. I think about it, and I kind of clench up inside.”

“Ok. Not this time then.” He went back to touching along her folds, circling her clit, and she gave a little squeal and giggle of pleasure.

In spite of himself, Gold felt an immense swell of pride. This was supposed to be Belle’s time, working out what she liked and mentally noting it down for future reference, but he liked knowing that he was making her feel good and helping her learn. He was definitely doing something right.

“That’s good?”

“That’s wonderful,” Belle gasped. “I think my brain’s about to melt.”

She wriggled away from his touch, turning over in his arms so that she was facing him, going up on her knees to kiss him, her hands tangled in his mussed hair and her lips fierce and more dominating that she’d ever been, her tongue pressing insistently at his lips. He opened for her readily, pulling her in close. He didn’t know if she’d come or not, but even if she hadn’t, it was still a victory for her pleasure. There would be plenty of time for more in due course.

“What about you?” Belle asked eventually; once she finally let him up for air. “What do you like?”

Her fingers were hovering over the tented front of his boxers, and Gold took her hand, placing it on his cock so that she could feel the heat of him through the silk. She was flushing again, the blush reaching down from her cheeks and neck to disappear under her camisole, and for a moment Gold was worried that they had gone too far. Then her fingers were curling into the waistband of his underwear and she looked up at him, her bottom lip nibbling between her teeth.

“May I?”

“Absolutely.”

Together they pulled his boxers down and off, and Belle traced a gentle fingertip up his length, making him groan.

“Good?”

“You have no idea.”

She kept stroking him, letting Gold cover her hands with his and guide her movements, tightening her grip on him a little until every touch felt like sheer heaven.

“Belle,” he gasped. “Belle, I’m going to come.” Belle kept a hold of him, and he spurted thickly over their joint hands. “Fuck!”

For a long time, he could only sit there in boneless bliss as his cock softened in her grip, panting at the force of the wonderful release, before Belle let go of him and grabbed a handful of tissues from the nightstand to clean up.

“That was great,” he managed to garble eventually, although it seemed such faint praise. Still, all things considered, this was definitely a step in the right direction, and he had high hopes for the rest of their honeymoon.

X

It was their last night in New York, and in a way, Gold was going to be sad to leave this hotel room that had been the scene of so much discovery. Although they had still not officially consummated their marriage, they had come so far in the week and a half since that first night that the fact Gold’s cock had not yet been inside Belle was a mere technicality.

There was still a long way to go; Belle was still nervous about the whole concept, and it was true that he seemed to be doing most of the initiating whenever things took a more intimate turn, but it seemed that Belle was happy for it to be that way. If he initiated things, then she could follow his lead, and she trusted him to steer her in the right direction if she was floundering. He only hoped that he could continue to be worthy of that trust once the honeymoon period was over and they were settling back into a normal day-to-day life in Boston.

It was going to be strange having Belle in his bed. They’d cohabited for a while, but she had never yet slept in his bed. It was going to take some getting used to. He’d adjusted to having a second person in bed with him whilst they had been in hotel rooms; but there was something different about it being in his own home. His bedroom was his sanctuary, a place that had just been his for so many years now, and he felt a little nervousness of his own about welcoming Belle into that space. It would be a place for both of them now, and he was anxious that she should feel as at ease in it as he did. It was not the first time that he had considered keeping Belle’s room made up for her – not that he envisaged them sleeping apart at any point, but because he knew how important it was to have a space of one’s own in which to relax and be content.

He should probably be trying to get to sleep rather than thinking about the future; they had an early flight back to Boston tomorrow morning, but for some reason, staring at the ceiling was proving to be coming to him much more easily than sleep was. Beside him, Belle shifted. Was she awake too?

“Aiden?” That would be a yes, then. “Are you awake?”

“Yes.”

“Me too.” She groped around under the covers in the darkness, eventually finding his hand and squeezing. He wondered what she was thinking, and if her thoughts were wending in the same direction his were. Whilst they’d talked about sex quite a bit whilst they’d been in the middle of intimate encounters, it wasn’t something that they had really discussed all that much outside of the heat of the moment. It wasn’t something that he’d ever been able to draw Belle out on before, and he had always let her shut down the conversation, figuring that it would happen once they were married. As it was, it was still a subject she seemed to avoid like the plague.

He brought their linked hands up to his lips and kissed her knuckles, working his way down her arm to her shoulder, neck, chin and finally her mouth. One thing that had been firmly established throughout all of their time in bed together had been that if Belle was at all uncomfortable, she would tell him to stop, and he would stop. Right now, though, she wasn’t telling him to stop. She was kissing him back with a fervent hunger, her arms sliding around his back to pull him in closer, her legs falling apart to allow him in between.

She was wearing her wedding nightdress again, and Gold pulled the straps down gently to expose her breasts, kissing and licking at her nipples. She was so sensitive there, and Gold was more than happy to oblige the little wriggles and moans that he had come to learn meant she was enjoying herself and wanted more. He longed to make his way further down and taste even more of her, but when he had gone lower than her breasts before, she’d stopped him, saying that it didn’t feel quite right just yet. Maybe in the future, once they were much more comfortable with each other, he could revisit the prospect.

He slipped a hand under the hem of her nightdress, pushing it up as he stroked up her thigh, finding nothing beneath the silk but soft nether curls and the beginnings of a ready wetness. Pressing the tip of his thumb into her slit, he began to rub gently, coaxing out her pearl and circling around it, but never directly on it.

“Aiden,” she breathed, pulling him back up from her breasts so that she could kiss him again. “Oh, Aiden, that feels wonderful.”

As far as Gold knew, Belle had not yet had an orgasm. She had enjoyed what they’d done together; he knew that she didn’t have the experience or guile to fake pleasure so convincingly, but that moment of ecstasy proved elusive, as if she plateaued after a while. She didn’t seem frustrated by it, and Gold didn’t want to push the point, knowing that although he wanted Belle to feel the joy of an orgasm, a large part of his wanting her to have one probably played into satisfying his own ego.

He pressed a fingertip against her entrance, and she nodded enthusiastically, her hips giving a little jerk as he began to push a finger up inside her, stroking gently at her inner walls. It had taken her a while to get used to the sensation the first time he had done it, but now she was relaxed, and her body was clutching at him, welcoming him eagerly. He pressed a second finger in, circling them a little and making Belle moan as he continued to work at her clit with his thumb.

God, he loved seeing her like this, coming undone for him without a care in the world.

“Aiden, I think I’m ready,” Belle panted.

“Ready for what?” His heart began to beat almost painfully fast, not wanting to get ahead of himself.

“I think I’m ready to properly lose my virginity.” Her face was almost beet red, and Gold couldn’t tell how much of that was embarrassment and how much was arousal. Her bottom lip was worrying between her teeth again, but her eyes were bright and whilst there was a little nervousness in them, there was no fear.

Gold slowly pulled his fingers out of her and took his cock in hand, pumping his length a couple of times to coat himself with Belle’s slick juices, before resettling his weight and lining up with her entrance.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Belle nodded, and Gold began to push in, as gradually as he could possibly manage. He bit down on his tongue to try and ground him and stop him from going too far too quickly and hurting her. He had promised her that the first time wouldn’t hurt, and he could not go back on that now. When he was about halfway in, Belle gave a little gasp.

“Belle? Are you all right?”

“Yes. You’re thicker than your fingers. Just a bit. It’s not painful. Just… strange.”

Gold nodded, giving a little huff of laughter. Yes, strange was probably a good word for it. Still, it would probably be a good idea not to go any further, at least not tonight. The sheer bliss of being inside Belle’s wonderful wet heat was more than enough for him for now, and he began to pull out, giving quick, shallow thrusts that almost undid him there and then. She was tight around him but relaxed enough for it not to be worrying, and whilst she was breathing heavily, her pants a harmonious counterpoint to his own ragged breath, her face showed no discomfort.

“Oh Belle, my love. You are glorious, and I love you.”

His climax was hard and sudden, taking him by surprise. He hadn’t realised just how keyed up he had been by the prospect of being inside Belle after so much sweet anticipation. He gave a little grunt as he came down from the high, resting his forehead against Belle’s.

“Sorry,” he panted. “I should have warned you.”

“It’s fine.” Belle stole a kiss. “Now that, I was prepared for.”

He pulled out of her as he began to soften, rolling onto his side and bringing Belle with him. She was smiling, although her cheeks were still flushed, and he pushed a lock of hair out of her face.

“We did it,” she said softly.

“We certainly did.” Gold kissed her gently, little butterfly kisses to her lips and chin. “How do you feel?”

“Fine.” Belle sounded surprised by her own answer. “It’s strange. I don’t feel any different. Having sex for the first time was always built up as such a big thing, I suppose I was expecting something akin to an anime magical girl transformation sequence when I lost my virginity. But I’m still the same Belle that I was before.”

“Well, of course you are. Sex is just another thing our bodies can do. An enjoyable thing…”

“A very enjoyable thing.”

“…but it doesn’t change who you are. You’re still you, whether you’re a virgin or not.”

“I’m definitely not now.”

It was a statement, and it didn’t appear to have anything weighted in it, but as they lay in the cooling, Gold couldn’t help but wonder how Belle was feeling about the whole situation.

“I love you,” he whispered to her. “And no matter what happens, I’ll always love you.”

Belle kissed the end of his nose. “I love you too.”

She sounded happy, and for the moment, that was all that mattered. Whatever happened next, they would deal with it together. Gold was sure of it.

[benisasoftboi]

Unorganised thoughts on Silver Snow:

When I finished Golden Deer, I said that it had felt like a more traditional Fire Emblem story than Blue Lions. Silver Snow is that but even more so (though GD is still the most trad-FE cast, IMO)

Having already played those two routes, it felt very much like a whirlwind tour of them both, plus another battle thrown in at the end - a battle that probably should have been harder, but I (completely accidentally) built the bulkiest Byleth imaginable, especially resistance wise, plus high magic - and so, by pairing high defensive stats with Nosferatu, I tanked every attack that came my way 

Gaming, for me, is just doing whatever the hell I feel like, stumbling into good results, and then pretending that I did it on purpose

I spent the whole battle with the Dragon Tales theme song stuck in my head. Kind of killed the mood

I really enjoyed that after wrapping up both the Edelgard and TWSITD plots, they basically Persona 4 you by trying to convince you that the whole game’s done now and all that’s left is to chat with everyone - though unlike in P4, there’s very obviously something left to do because they give you a whole month of prep time, rather than just one day

I felt the same way about this on Golden Deer - none of the characters are appropriately shocked by Rhea’s highly questionable actions 

Also - she says she’s going to explain the whole truth! And she doesn’t! Only the Byleth creation stuff! The other revelations from Golden Deer are missing! Rhea! Why! Are! You! Like! This!

This is actually a problem I have with this game as a whole - they want to keep certain lore and secrets exclusive to certain routes, but it results in every story feeling in some way incomplete. Like, Fates gets a lot of crap, but at least you did get a full story from your half (third? never played Revelation) a game for the price of a whole one. Blue Lions gets the worst of it, I think 

Plus, when you know some of said secrets, it makes characters who refuse to share them in other routes seem weirdly (and sometimes, contrivedly) cagey about things they really do not need to be cagey about. See: Claude refusing to tell Dimitri and Byleth in Azure Moon that he wants to End Racism, and instead vagueing about ‘achieving his dream’. This is not Edelgard wanting to conquer Fodlan and dismantle the entire social structure, Claude, your ideals really are not so controversial that you need to be this coy. Dimitri and I are cool, we getcha 

My one sentence review of the whole game is basically: Great characters, great world building, great gameplay - but really, really frustrating plot structure

I’m also really upset that Seteth does not have a dragon form

Speaking of Seteth, I married him this time around. I mostly decided to do it for laughs, but while Byleth/Dedue is still my number one Byleth pairing, I came to really, genuinely like them together. Seteth is one of my favs, now more than ever

It helps that romancing Seteth feels a lot less... creepy than romancing most of the students. I like Linhardt, but romancing him felt very weird to me because I couldn’t get over Byleth having first known him as a 16 year old under their care. Dedue, for the record, doesn’t elicit this response  because he doesn’t really feel as much like a student to me? Role-wise he feels a lot closer to the knights, and it’s just that he's been enrolled as a student for convenience’s sake, which makes him and Byleth feel more equal than they do with most of the other kids. Helps that he’s also on the older end

Anyway, Seteth and Byleth would be the nerdiest couple ever, is the impression I got from their ending. The confession scene made me laugh in how ‘oh we’ve got a lot of work to do - btw wanna get married? - sweet, now let’s get back to work’ it was. Mark Whitten is a gem

It’s also the the first time I felt like the game was actually shipping me with a main lord (Seteth taking that role in the absence of the box lords on this route). Haven’t done Crimson Flower yet, so no opinion on the Edelgard/Byleth relationship yet, but regarding Claude and Dimitri my (pretty damn controversial, possibly a bad idea to put out there) opinions on them with Byleth are that

Claude and Byleth are platonic bros, regardless of Byleth’s gender. I just don’t get any feeling of romance from their relationship at all, and so pairing them off feels weird (to me, personally - I don’t hate the ship or anything, though)

Meanwhile Dimitri 100% had a crush on his teacher at school, but after more than five years of enduring trauma after trauma, and then half a year of beginning to heal (whilst fighting a war culminating in the execution of his step-sister), Dimitri is nowhere near ready for a romantic relationship. And when he is, I wouldn’t want him with any of the main cast, Dimitri x Village Girl OTP. I guess if it has to be anyone, I’d be okay with Mercedes, maybe Marianne - hell, maybe even Claude - but really, I just want him to get a fresh start. I think that’s the healthiest option for him, in the end

I do think it’s a pairing that could work in an AU where Dimitri doesn’t have any of the experiences he has in canon, though 

And again, this is just my personal reading

I’ll also admit that I may be influenced by the fact that his two most popular pairings are with Byleth and Dedue, who I greatly prefer with each other. Mostly because I love Dedue with all my soul and his ending with Byleth is by far his happiest, in my eyes at least. It’s the only one where he puts some distance between himself and Dimitri and evens out the power balance in their relationship, which makes me happy because oh boy, the Dimitri/Dedue relationship is super interesting and compelling, but also (again, by my reading) all kinds of unhealthy as it’s presented for most of the game - power balance issues like I say, the fact that they tend to indulge, even encourage, each other’s worst instincts and behaviours, mutual guilt complexes - like I say, it’s fascinating, but damn screwed up. IMO, they’re one of the best examples I’ve seen of how unhealthy relationships aren’t always the result of one bad person, and how two good people can end up being very bad for each other

Though it is, again, a pairing I can see working (and actually being incredibly cute) in an AU where they’ve lived less horrible lives

And it’s not like I don’t want them to be friends, I just want them to also develop healthier boundaries and equal levels of respect

oh my god none of this has anything to do with silver snow what am I doing

But hey, speaking of Dimitri - I flip flopped on whether I thought his death was handled better or worse here than Golden Deer. It was given, I felt, more appropriate gravitas, but again suffered from ‘Dimitri’s dead! No, Dimitri’s alive! Oh wait, now he’s dead again’ in like, three successive scenes. And then you see his... ghost? I guess?

Dimitri really seems to get the short end of the stick on routes outside his own. Claude’s non-Deer roles were, in both cases I’ve played, much stronger and more fitting, and Edelgard is Edelgard

Maybe he’ll be good in Crimson Flower. Please. I miss Dimitri mattering. He’s probably my favourite of the three

There’s a point - obviously I don’t fully know Edelgard yet, but from what I got from the White Clouds section, above anything else she strikes me as an incredibly realistic depiction of a slightly edgy, extremely idealistic, but also highly naive and short-sighted teenager

Her whole goal, it seems, is meritocracy. She hates the crest system and the nobility, and she wants to create a system of equal opportunity. I can get behind that, but I really hope she’s prepared to accept the fact that true equal opportunity is basically impossible without recreating The Giver, as inequality is always more complex than one single factor being to blame for everything. Has Edelgard considered other limitations that make true meritocracy difficult to achieve? Has she been working on, say, a comprehensive benefits system? Or is she more of a libertarian type, and so primarily all about negative freedom and removing direct oppression? I hope Crimson Flower goes into detail on this, I’d be genuinely interested to know

I also find it interesting that she gets very angry about the fact that people hurt her and her family as a means to their own ends, so she decides that her own ends are to eliminate the system that lead to that happening - and she doesn’t care who she has to hurt in the process

This isn’t a CinemaSins *ding* plot hole observation, I genuinely think it’s interesting, and not actually that unrealistic

I also suppose her goal is no less naive than End All Racism By Being Nice To People, but Claude isn’t killing and persecuting people in attempt to achieve that, so it invites less scrutiny

I do wonder if I would have felt more strongly positively about her if she’d been my first playthrough. I do believe she’s a person that sincerely means well, and she’s certainly sympathetic, but - hmm. I’ll make my mind up when I finish CF

Anyway, paired endings. A few that I got include Raphael and Bernadetta (by far my favourite Bernie ending so far, seriously, what is that Caspar ending), Shamir and Leonie, which was cute and goofy (as Leonie’s endings tend to be, I notice, I do like that girl), Felix and Dorothea (not my favourite for either, but cute), Sylvain and Mercedes (the same but even cuter), Cyril and Petra (which felt wrong, partly because I love Cysithea a hell of a lot, and also because despite knowing there’s only about a year between them, Petra looks so much older pre-time skip), Ferdie and Marianne (super wholesome and sweet), and Linhardt and Caspar (my boyyyyssss that I refuse to ever separate again)

Not sure what I’m going to aim for on CF aside from keeping those boys together and also Ferdie/Hubert, as I’ve Heard Things

Flayn and Manuela have an A support so I figured they had a paired ending and it turns out they do not, which means Manuela was alone forever and Flayn ran away because apparently she hated having Byleth for a step mother I guess, rude

My Byleth (Myleth?) was prepared to be the best step mother in the history of the world, so offended

I realised ‘Javelins of Light’ is one of my absolute favourite tracks in the whole game. Mostly because it sounds like something out of Danganronpa, which made me nostalgic

I also like ‘Guardian of Starlight’ for somehow managing to sound like a Danganronpa/PMD: Explorers crossover track

I love how out of nowhere the Immaculate One fight is. It really does just feel like they needed something to distinguish the route from Verdant Wind outside of Claude not being around, so they just had a map that was less cool in every way except for the dragon

Is there an explanation for why Nemesis doesn’t show up on this route?

Also - I didn’t mention this in Golden Deer thoughts but I also found that final battle way, way easier than it was probably meant to be because I’d made everyone into a flier and so the floor damage hazard was meaningless

Which I totally did on purpose and not so I could make a stupid joke post about my all-wyvern team 

Anyway, in conclusion, Silver Snow was a good route, I enjoyed it more than I thought I would (I’d kind of thought it was just going to be GD without Claude, which isn’t... totally wrong, but it’s got some other stuff going on too), I liked Seteth getting to have a bigger role, I thought it had the best final boss (if not the best final boss map), and I liked that I got some more Dragon Lore (never a bad thing)

please don’t yell at me for my controversial shipping opinions 

[colorofmymindposts]

Heart Skips A Beat

Chapter One

Fandom: Schitt’s Creek Pairing: Patrick Brewer/David Rose Characters: David Rose, Patrick Brewer Rating: Teen and Up Status: Incomplete, Next Chapter To Be Posted Next Week  Word Count: 2652 Summary: Stevie doesn't give into David's demands to let him stay at her place when Alexis has lice. So Patrick offered. Patrick Brewer with the straight leg denim. Patrick Brewer with the awful taste in decor and who loves poking fun at David. Patrick Brewer with all the help and business advice David needs to not run this store into the ground before it even starts. Patrick, who David is starting to warm up to despite his best intentions not to. Tags: Alternative Universe - Canon Divergence, Season 3 AU, Fluff, Flirting Notes: Hi everyone, I hope you liked the first chapter of this story! It's going to be a two-chapter story, and the next one will be posted next week. This is my first time officially writing for the characters and the show, so please feel free to offer any constructive criticism! The title comes from Lenka's song "Heart Skips A Beat". This can also be read on ao3. 

Story:

The anxiety welling up in his gut almost makes him want to stay back at the motel. Almost. But then David is reminded of the fact that Alexis has lice, and he is not stepping a foot back into that room until the hazmat team arrives to quarantine her. Which, given the extremely limited resources of this town, is unlikely to happen.

The alternative is not that great. Stevie refused to let him stay over despite saying she missed his company, which makes no sense! So Patrick offered. Patrick Brewer with the straight leg denim. Patrick Brewer with the awful taste in decor and who loves poking fun at David. Patrick Brewer with all the help and business advice David needs to not run this store into the ground before it even starts. Patrick, who David is starting to warm up to despite his best intentions not to.

He’s just being a nice business partner, offering up his home for the night to be nice. After all, Patrick said earlier that he didn’t want anything in the store contaminated. So it’s all for practical reasons.

It’s around 5 p.m. when they both agree that they’ve done enough work on setting up the store today. David can tell some part of Patrick wants to stay longer, probably it has something to do with the grant forms or money, but drastic measures will have to be taken if he doesn’t eat in the next hour.

“So uhh thanks for the help today,” David says to Patrick’s back as the man locks the front door. “I guess, I’ll just...swing by your place later?”

Patrick turns on his heel, appearing confused.

“Do you have to be somewhere? I thought you didn’t want to go back to the motel?”

“Right! I do not have any intention of going back there…right now. I just,” David stumbles over words that his brain hasn’t come up with and flails his hands instinctively. “I was thinking of getting food at the cafe? And then I am definitely going to take you up on your very generous offer to stay at your place for the night.”

“You know, when you put that way, it sounds like you don’t actually want to take me up on my generous offer,” Patrick replies with a satisfied smirk.

God, what is this guy’s deal? David chuckles nervously, fingers tugging at the collar of his black suede sweater from Valentino’s fashion collection.  

“For your information, I do not have anything else lined up, so I would very much appreciate it if you kept your offer open or I will be sleeping on the street tonight.”

“We wouldn’t want that. I don't need to tell you all the things that run around this town at night,” Patrick warns in a tone where David can’t tell whether he’s joking or not so he just nods repeatedly.

“No, you really don’t, thanks.”

It’s a split-second reaction, but David sees the features in Patrick’s face immediately soften. “David, I’m just messing with you. I would never turn you away.”

There’s such a sincerity in his voice that doesn’t belong, it shouldn’t be there so it can’t actually be there. David throws his walls up. “Well, the government did three years ago, so I never know who to believe.”

If Patrick’s face could send a more pitying look, it does in that moment.

“Look, how about I get you dinner at the cafe? Then I can drive us over to my apartment, seeing as you’ve already packed,” Patrick proposes with a glance down to David’s hand holding his overnight bag, which may or may not actually belong to his mother.

“It’s fine, I’m really not that hungry.”

He’s lying, but the idea of dining out with just Patrick doesn’t sit well with him for some reason. What would they talk about? The store? Patrick’s love of blue and David’s specially curated interest in stylistically relevant monochrome colors? Maybe if Stevie was there, she could say something funny that they could all laugh at. After all, she and Patrick hit it off as soon as they met.

“If you’re sure,” Patrick responds in a way David knows is unconvinced.

David follows Patrick silently down the street, not really sure of where they’re going or why, but they pass the Cafe Tropical much to the pain of David’s stomach. There’s a loud beep, and David flinches without meaning to.

“It’s okay, it’s just my car,” Patrick reassures him, and there’s a laugh hidden in his smile. He’s grinning but not outright. Ugh, why is he so hard to figure out?

He finally takes in Patrick’s car, which is nice. At least, it’s a lot better looking than his family’s shared Lincoln.

David slides into the passenger’s seat, clutching his bag to his chest after buckling in. Patrick pulls out of his parking spot and onto the road. It’s quiet in the car with no music playing and no one talking. If he were with his family right now, he’d be more than happy with that arrangement, but something about it feels off with Patrick.

“I like your car,” he’s able to manage. “It’s sleek, and I’m not able to say that about a lot of things in this town.”

That earns him a small chuckle from Patrick at least.

“Yeah, I just finished paying it off too. That’s why I have a space at Ray’s and not my own,” he explains as he drives. “You might want to reconsider who you’re getting into business with.”

There’s something in his tone, something he can’t name, that makes David consider his words before speaking. “I think I’ll take my chances.”

The smile that was on Patrick’s face splits into a grin, and it takes a very concerted effort for David not to join him.

It doesn’t take long after that to arrive at Ray’s. They pass Ray’s and Patrick’s office spaces as they move through the front room, avoiding the abandoned photoshoot materials as they make their way to the staircase.

“So, Ray works and lives here too?”

“Yeah,” Patrick answers as he goes for a door on the right side of the hallway.

“So, is he just out a lot? Doing his...projects or work or whatever?”

“Sometimes? He’s here a lot in the mornings.” Patrick pauses, as though he’s thinking something over. “I should warn you, he’s really bad about privacy. Like, has no idea what it means to knock before you come in.”

“Please, the door between my parents’ room and mine doesn’t even lock, so I have become very familiar with violations of privacy in the last few years,” David counters earnestly.

The door opens up to a one-bedroom living situation, and the aesthetic (or lack thereof) just screams...whatever the opposite of Patrick is. The wallpaper is a cheap pink floral print, and it’s practically barren save for a closet, bed, nightstand and some framed picture of a sportball player hanging on one of the walls. He does have the luxury of a Queen sized mattress, something David is more than slightly envious of.

“It’s organized,” he concedes.

“I’ll take what I can get,” Patrick says, almost as though he’s relieved. Does David’s opinion really matter that much to him?

“You can put your things wherever you like. And the bathroom is just down the hall to your left. I’m going to start on dinner. Do you like pasta?”

“Yes, I love pasta,” David replies emphatically as he’s literally starving right now. He hopes Patrick’s a better cook than the ones at the cafe. “What kind are you making?”

“I think I’ll keep it a surprise.” Patrick’s voice is teasing and elusive as he walks backward toward the door, his thumbs hooked in his jean pockets.

David feels that he has to be informative about his preferences before Patrick leaves though. “Okay, well just so you know I’m very selective about my noodles. Like elbow macaroni is not an acceptable option.”

“Actually, I think all we have is elbow macaroni, so…” Patrick trails off, entirely unsympathetic.

“Why didn’t you let me know that before we left the store?!” he calls after the man already heading down the stairs.

He huffs in irritation, mostly to himself, as his eyes scan the now empty bedroom. There’s only one bed. Which of course makes sense. Only Patrick lives in this room. It just leaves the very pressing question of where he’ll sleep tonight completely up in the air. If Patrick intends on David taking the floor, he would have rather just followed Stevie home and slept on the carpeted hallway in front of her apartment door.

If nothing else, he can busy himself unpacking his toiletries and clothes. Patrick would have had to have known when he invited David over that he was not going to live out of his overnight bag, thank you very much.

It’s just when he’s satisfied with how he has sorted his eye creams on the bathroom sink when a delicious smell wafts up from the kitchen. The pasta’s got to be ready. His stomach, not his brain, is what propels him down a flight and a half of steps and into the kitchen. He just resists whining as he sees Patrick standing over two pots on the stovetop, clearly still cooking.

“Hey, you finally made it down here. I thought you maybe got lost up there.”

“Hmm, very funny,” David acknowledges with anything but a smile. “Actually I was figuring out where to put all my things you know with all of yours and Ray’s things.”

Patrick smirks to himself but says nothing. David nods as he does when he feels awkward and takes a seat at the table in the kitchen, rapping his fingers against the wood. It’s then that he realizes the table hasn’t been set. Yes, he is a guest here at Patrick’s place and normally wouldn’t feel inclined to do anything, but he’s recently become very invested in shaking off the freeloader label he acquired in the past. Especially with Patrick, who makes fun of him all the time for that kind of stuff.

“Where do you and Ray keep the plates?”

“Hmm?”

“I just thought I could set the table,” David says. Patrick’s face is one of disbelief, and David is quick to add, “I know even I find that level of generosity uncharacteristic for me.”

Patrick huffs a small laugh, stirring the sauce in the pot as he does so.

“No, that’s not it. I guess I didn’t expect that you wanted to organize anything else but the displays at the store. The plates are on the third shelf in the second cabinet, and the glasses are just above that. Silverware’s in that drawer over there.”

He gets to work then, pulling ceramics and glasses out and setting them out. It’s sad that he has to admit this, but it’s actually some of the finer dishware he’s going to be eating off of in nearly three years.

“Here we are,” Patrick announces as he brings out the dish, which looks positively scrumptious. The pasta and sauce have been transferred to one nice bowl, and it looks like some kind of cream-based sauce. “So we lucked out, David. I did happen to find fettuccine noodles, which are store-bought, but the alfredo sauce is actually my mother’s recipe.”

“Oh, I—um,” David stutters, speechless for one of the first times in his life.

“Right, I forgot the wine,” Patrick mutters under his breath, scolding himself. He goes over to the fridge. “Based on how much you order for the store, I assume you like red?”

It’s inexplicable, but the question makes him think back to his and Stevie’s conversation years ago about wine and...preferences. But Patrick isn’t Stevie and can’t know about that conversation, so David’s reading too much into things. As per usual.

“As you mentioned to me several times, we have to take into account the demographics of the town when we cultivate our stock. Since more old people live here and old people tend to prefer darker wines, it just makes sense for profits’ sake,” David rattles off, smirking as he does so. “But yes, as personal tastes go, I also prefer red wine over white. Not that I won’t try any others.”

Patrick is staring at him, dumbstruck. David likes that look on him. Just as he’s thinking that his tongue darts out over his lips, and he’s quick to school his features. He can almost swear Patrick follows the movement. But this is Patrick he's talking about, the straight-laced probably straight business partner. Right.

“Anyways, this looks very nice, so I’m just gonna—” David cuts himself off as he reaches for the kitchen-instrument-he-doesn’t-know-the-name-of to put the pasta on his plate.

Patrick screws the cork out of the wine bottle and serves them both their first glasses.

“I am glad that you paid attention to my ideas about stock,” he finally replies, seeming to recover use of his voice.

“Like I’ve said before, you’re the numbers and everything, and I am just the vision and overqualified artistic developer of the store. So...you’re important to listen to,” David confesses shyly as he twirls the pasta onto his fork.

“Aww David, can I get that in writing? We could frame it and put it in the store,” Patrick teases.

“As long as you don’t pick the frame, then maybe I’ll consider it,” he gripes right back.

His ire doesn’t last long though as he takes a bite of dinner, which is everything it promised to be. It’s easily the best food he’s had since he got to Schitt’s Creek, and he can’t suppress the audible moan in his mouth as he swallows it down. He’s startled when there’s an ominous knock against the table, and Patrick’s nursing a probably bruised knee.

“Oh my god, are you okay?!”

“Yeah, I—you know, I’ve always hated how tiny Ray’s table is. It’s very easy to just...hurt yourself. He should really get a new one.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, this pasta is delicious. I’m glad we did not stop at the cafe. I am going to have to suggest business partner dinners more often if this is how they’re going to be.”

Patrick looks at him wide-eyed, and that’s when David knows he fucked up. No one wants to be around him more than absolutely necessary. This is so nice that he keeps on forgetting Patrick only invited him over because his place is infested with lice. It’s a burden for him to see David outside of work hours.

His anxiety has him spiraling. “I mean, not that we have to, I was just—”

“No, David. I would really like that actually,” Patrick replies very quietly, with a warmness in his eyes that melts away the panic immediately. “Your sister having lice wasn’t exactly the way I imagined this coming together I’ll admit, but I’ve been wanting to get to know you better outside of the business.”

There’s a fluttering in his stomach now that has nothing to do with the food.

“I mean, sure. Sure,” David agrees, bobbing his head up and down like an idiot. “Are you sure though? Because being friends with this is a lot. Stevie has probably already told you that.”

“I was under the impression we were already friends,” Patrick counters, still projecting his dazzling smile at him. “I wouldn’t just invite any old business partner to stay over and cook them what I’m glad is a good dinner.”

David mouths an “O” but can’t audibly verbalize it, finally understanding.

The tension he’s been feeling these past few months around Patrick, the tension he’s been denying to everyone and himself, has a very possible explanation.

Who ever would have guessed he’d want to fuck someone in straight leg denim?  

[turtlestanfirst]

The (fucking incomplete but totally awesome) First Chapter of the Shards Fic!!

basically i’m stuck but i also want to share so yall can read and comment and tell me what yall think about it! Ideas, thoughts, whatever you wanna leave, i need it oof

Leo gazes out over the city in silence. His perch on top of the building is ideal, he gets an excellent view from up here. He can see everything, it seems. Mystic City is rarely quiet at night, and this evening is no different. Yokai walk to and fro below, rushing off to places Leo can only wonder about. And wonder he does. A striped tail swishes back and forth slowly as his eyes follow a man in a worn-looking suit. The man must be going home, the slider realizes.

He wonders if the man is eager to do so.

Leo has come to despise heading home. He loves his family, the one he grew up with and the one comprised of the new people in his life. But ever since Donnie turned on them, going home has become more difficult than he'd like to admit to.

The mere thought of his twin makes his fists clench and his heart twist sharply. He refuses to relive that night in his head, not now, but even then he can't stop the mental image of his purple-clad brother from coming to mind; the anger and hurt in Donnie's eyes still send a shiver down Leo's spine. The slider closes his eyes and forces himself to think about the city, the sounds below him. When he opens them again Donnie’s face is gone from his mind, and he lets out a deep breath. He can't afford to think about his traitor of a brother right now.

The slider calms himself before putting his Ōdachi in its sheath and hopping down easily from the rooftop. He doesn't have time for reminiscing on painful memories. He's supposed to be working.

If this was the human city, he could have been considered reckless for acting as a vigilante. But this is the yokai's city. Leon knows he's being downright stupid.

Leon has too many enemies in high places here, too much at stake to dare show his face in this place. That's why he covers himself with the mask of Night Rogue (he really needs to work on his moniker). He isn't Leonardo, not right now. And that's okay because sometimes, being Leonardo was hard.

Much harder than being a vigilante in a city out to hunt him down.

It's been a mostly quiet patrol tonight, he'd only had to step into a situation once. Part of him is tempted to leave Mystic City for the night and slink around New York until the sun came up.

He reaches the ground gracefully, his feet hitting the asphalt in absolute silence. Hazel eyes scan the area quickly in search of anything out of the ordinary. Two yokai lurk just near the opening of the alley, their faces obscured by the darkness. One of them has horns, he notices- likely a goat of some sort, he assumes. Leon tenses, prepares just in case. A woman passes by and one of the creeps moves after her with lightning speed. Moments after, a sharp yell of protest reached his ears. Leon's lip curls up slightly.

It looked like his patrol would be worthwhile after all.

The woman writhes and struggles against her attacker, attempting to use her antlers as a defense mechanism. While the one holds her, the horned one leans in close and appears to tell her something. She responds with a snarl and a particularly loud “oh, go fuck yourself.”

Leon likes her already.

His movements are quick and quiet as the slider moves in, Ōdachi in hand once again. He clears his throat as he steps into their view.

“Now, that doesn't seem like the right way to speak to a lady,” he chides, clicking his tongue. The one who'd been talking to the girl turns to face Leon with a sneer. He'd been right; this one's a goat, his partner looks like a dog of some sort.

“And this doesn't seem like your business, so fuck off before you get yourself hurt,” the goat snaps. Leon leans on his sword nonchalantly.

“I don't like asking twice. Leave her alone and no one gets hurt.” The dog yokai twists the woman's arm behind her back, forcing her to hiss out in pain. Leon's reaction is immediate. His foot connects with the goat's chest, knocking him back before focusing on the dog, Ōdachi at the ready. The deer yokai in his grasp manages to whack her attacker in the face with her antlers, and Leon can't help but grin under his mask at the surprised shout the other gave. "Listen, Bambi here doesn't seem to be the kind of girl you want to mess with, so why don't you be a good dog and let her go?"

"Bambi?" she repeats incredulously, pausing in her struggle to give him a look. Then her brown eyes are going wide. "Hey, look out!" Leon almost turns to see what she's warning him about, but before he gets the chance he's yelping in pain, clutching at the new gash in his arm. Behind him, the goat grins cruelly, a bloodied blade in hand. Leon snarls.

"You fucking bastard."

"Well, if it ain't the kettle calling the pot black," the goat retorts. Leon lunges forward, the silver of his blade slicing through the air in a flash. It barely catches the goat, but he's satisfied with the small amount of blood he's drawn. His original purpose temporarily forgotten, the slider goes in for another attack, and another, none of them particularly neat but unrivaled in their ferociousity. His next move is a kick, followed by another, and he goes for another attack with the sword, but the goat grabs Leon by the belt and yanks him down, the Ōdachi slipping from his hand in the process. The goat recovers from the shock of the fall first and scrambles to his feet, grabbing the discarded sword as he does. Leon's up moments after, preparing to block an attack, but a loud clang sounds out before the goat gets a chance, and a moment later he's knocked out on the concrete.

The turtle looks from the unconscious figure to the deer now standing in front of him, a metal pipe in her hand. Behind her, Leon notices, the dog yokai is knocked out as well.

"You're, uh, handy with a pipe." He smiles sheepishly under his mask. The deer shakes her head, rolling her eyes as she drops the pipe.

"For a vigilante, you're not particularly good at getting people out of a tough spot," she comments. Leon rubs the back of his neck.

"I'm new at this."

"No you aren't, we've been hearing about you for years. Night Rogue, right?" She scoops up his Ōdachi and hands it over, a frown settling on her face. "Hey, you tried at least. Let me repay you. That gash doesn't look pretty." Leon raised a brow.

"You ever seen a wound that looked pretty?" he questions, taking the Ōdachi back. She doesn't answer, pulling the scarf from around her neck and moving to Leon's side. It makes for a good temporary bandage, and she looks fairly pleased with her handiwork.

"That'll hold it for now. Come on, I'll clean it for you." Her hand wraps around his wrist and before he can protest she's leading him further back into the alley, towards the steps of a fire escape. "You're lucky those goons decided to pull that little stunt next to my apartment, but we are gonna have to do a little climbing." She's starting up the stairs with ease, and Leon hesitates. He should go home and treat the injury on his own. He follows her anyway, because in all truthfulness he hates patching up his own cuts.

"Did you know those guys?" he asks as they go.

"Yeah, they work for my mom." Leon stops again.

"Hang on, they work for your mother?" A level above him already, a head of wild curls peek down at him.

"My mom and I aren't on good terms. She sends someone to harass me every now and again." The slider opens his mouth curiously, decides it's not his place to ask any questions, and closes it again. She answers his unasked question anyway, grinning like it's no big deal. "She's a demon, and a damn strong one at that. But I'm a pacifist like my dad and she wants to change that. It's not working." With that, her head disappears and she's walking again. Leon blinks.

"Wait, you're a demon? I thought you were a deer!" He clambers up the stairs after her and comes to a halt beside her as she opens a window. Her face carries a look of amusement as she glances at him.

"I am, on my dad's side. But I am half-demon which means those guys really couldn't have done me any harm. It was very brave of you to hop in anyway." She smiles and pats his shoulder before slipping into the apartment. When she turns to face him again she's trying to look menacing, but it isn't quite working. "That also means I could definitely obliterate you if I wanted to. But you seem like a chill dude, so you're safe. For now." He's glad he's got the mask on so she can't see the amused grin on his face.

"I'll keep that in mind, o powerful demon lady," he chuckles, following her into the apartment.

"It's Liza," she corrects. "Now pick a chair and sit, I'm gonna grab some supplies." Leon does as he's told, managing to slip off the jacket he'd had on so she could work easier. The mask, he decides, stays on for now. She's back minutes later, arms full of first aid equipment. "I won't lie, this is most likely gonna hurt." She looks a little guilty as she speaks, and Leon gives her a soft look.

"I can take it. Let's get this over with."

[simonlovelazy]

Saeran/Reader Halloween Fic

This is my very late contribution to the Halloween craze!!!

(Hey, it’s still Halloween here, ok?)

Title: The One Without a Costume

Fandom: Mystic Messenger

Pairing: Saeran/ Reader, Saeran/You

Tags: Teen and up audiences, mostly crack, attempt at writing something hot lol

Word count: 2452

Summary: You have a theory about people going to costume parties without costumes, but maybe Saeran will manage to change your mind?

takes place somewhere in the secret endings or whenever you want it to

   AO3 link

  The One Without a Costume

You would need way more fingers to count how many times you've heard the good old "don't judge a book by its cover" speech. But there is at least one situation when the rule does not apply. If you're at a costume party, a Halloween costume party to make the sin of dullness even more pronounced, and see a guy sporting his casual clothes, you know exactly what kind of story he is.

        You wait for Halloween the way kids wait for their Christmas gifts, and you’d happily buy yourself an Advent calendar counting down the days of October instead of December, but you don’t think anyone has ever come up with an idea to produce one. You always think what you’re going to dress up as in advance; it takes days to gather the supplies and fabrics, and then even more days (and nights) to sew and glue things together. While the process in itself is a joy, the costume party is the crowning moment, and this you enjoy the most.

          Some people can’t spend so much time or money on their costumes, or they simply don’t care as much as you, and it’s perfectly fine. A bandage mummy and a sheet ghost are not a repelling view – you enjoy the last-moment costumes and giggle at these conveying a pun.

        But the ones without a costume? They don’t attend these parties to have some fun, no, they’re here to announce how much they despise dressing-up, you, and the notion of having fun altogether. Excuse me, sir, but is this too much fun for you? Should we turn the music down? Or maybe, take our stupid costumes and get out?

        You shift from foot to foot. Who would have thought your mouth would turn into the Sahara after a song or two of dancing (and violent singing along)? And this guy! He isn't even pouring himself the damn punch!

        That's it. You readjust your protruding fang, grab a hold of your cloak, and march in the direction of the notorious punch-stirrer with a sense of dignity, head held up high.

        The tactic is to intimidate him with your sheer presence, so without a word, you stand next to him and wait. You have to give him that – even if nothing says “to hell with Halloween” more than a basic black and white raglan t-shirt, the atmosphere around him is saturated with gloom. You’re almost grateful he’s ignoring you and hasn't even looked up from the damn bowl. If his stiff posture and silent determination in stirring can be any determiners, his glare must kill on the spot.

        And so he looks up. "What?"

        You gasp.

        You were right about intensity of his stare. But boy, are his eyes a spooky surprise! One gold and one mint eye narrow at you. The only thing today you expected less than this was the guy who suddenly detached his hand and threw it across the room, scoring well-deserved three points and a little round of applause when it slapped the host across his beautiful face.

        Oh, and also:

        "You look just like this dude running around in a dress! The one with wings and a halo."

        He closes his eyes, letting out a heavy sigh.

        "Take what you need and go away."

        You do a once- over at the table. Melting ghost-cupcakes, cookies with yellow pumpkins made of watery icing, and... you actually don't know what cups of dirt are supposed to resemble, or if they're edible at all. Really makes you wonder how much Zen splurged on catering this year.

        "Yeah, but no, just wanted something to drink. Are you done with this?" you ask, pointing at the punch. He hasn't let go of the ladle for a single moment.

        "No," he answers with a scowl. "Still haven't found it."

        "Found what?"

        "My other lens."

        Suddenly you're not thirsty anymore. How do you lose a contact lens in a bowl of punch is a mystery you don't venture to solve.

        "Are you going to put it back in your eye when you find it?"

        He actually dumps the ladle and throws you the most incredulous look you've ever been gifted. He has quite a repertoire of glares, you must say.

        "No."

        "Then, why not forget about it and enjoy the party? But first, maybe flush the whole thing down the toilet, 'cause if someone chokes himself to death, I'll be the first one to point at you to the cops."

        "At least if someone chokes, we’ll have one convincing ghost in here," he says half-smiling, which suits him in a devilish kind of way. And he’s kinda right – the ghost girls in short skirts may be cute, but they have small chances to scare anyone present.

        You're about to make a brilliant remark when he grabs the massive vessel and walks off.

        "Come on, you'll open the door for me," he throws without turning his head, and you find yourself scurrying behind him before you have the time to question it.

The trip isn't long which isn't surprising considering the size of the apartment. The problem is that there are more people squeezed on one square metre than it should be physically possible, and still more and more guests pours in and, naturally, at least half of the gathering is partying in the line to the bathroom. There's Aladdin and his Carpet (she's not having a good time, you can tell), a promiscuous cat, three colourful feathery beings, and yes, you have found Wally, and guessing by the colour of his face, he really needs to go in asap.

        "Kitchen?"

        "Kitchen."

When the punch is finally gone in the kitchen sink, or more precisely, spluttered all over the mountains of the dirty dishes (still no signs of the lens to be seen), you start shifting uncomfortably. It must be a Halloween miracle (or rather a trick of fate) because there’s no one in the kitchen save for you and the guy without a costume.

        Only the muted echoes of music reach in here, so when you clear your throat, the sound is deafening. “I think I should go now.”

        “Why so fast? Is anyone waiting for you?” he asks. He's leaning on the counter, the tap behind his back letting out droplets like a metronome. One silence, two silences, three silences...

        In the pale light of the full moon, seeping through the window on the side, the shadows on his face become more pronounced and sinister. Even though he's not wearing a terrifying disguise, or any disguise at all, he gets a shiver out of you.

        “I came here with a friend.”

        “But?” he initiates, raising an eyebrow. Maybe he noticed how you were dancing alone on the makeshift dance floor.

        “But the last time I saw her, she was getting handsy with a werewolf in the parking lot.”

        He hums thoughtfully. “She shouldn't have left you alone.”

        It may be an attempt at consolation, but the way he says it earns another shiver from you. Was his voice low like this earlier?

        You step back to lean on the fridge and fold your arms, trying to mirror his casualness.“What are you doing here, anyway? You don't strike me as a costume-party animal.”

        “Wasn't really my choice. I had to come because I'm in the same organisation as our Zen.”

        The only organisation that comes to your mind is the RFA, but again, he doesn't look like a guy doing charity work. Not that you have time to mull it over with him lazily leaving his spot and coming in your direction.

        Suddenly you understand the infamous toil of breathing in a corset.

        “And you? A musical actor, perhaps?” he asks, jumping on a counter next to the fridge. You don't like how his new spot allows him to look down at you.

        For a terrible second you think the hand he's reaching out will be placed somewhere on you, and you freeze in both panic and anticipation. You only allow yourself to breath out when it lands above your head and starts playing with magnets.

        It’s hard to tell if he's playing with you or being clueless.

        What was the question again?

        “Haha, no. The werewolves-favouring girl is. I'm just the unnecessary plus one.”

        He takes his hand away from the fridge, visibly pleased with the rearranged magnetic letters. You twist your neck to see better, and surely enough, they spell some nasty words. How old is he?

        A warm breath tingles your exposed skin where the high collar has slid down a little, the stranger still hovering above your head. You will yourself to face him again, but then, oh Lord, his playful smirk can't mean anything good.

        This time his hand aims for you, you can tell by how his funny eyes never leave your face. He's not hurrying anywhere, and you can't stand the anticipation; it's hard to stand still as he closes the distance between you even more, ever so slowly.

        Against your better judgement, you pucker up your lips, but his hand doesn't cup your face like you hoped it would. Instead, he gets the hold of your chin with his thumb, and the next thing you know, the soft pad of his index finger traces the outline of your lips. He brushes your cupid's bow with a feathery-like delicacy, grazes your bottom lip, and pushes it slightly down. You open your mouth just a little, paying no heed to the gasp escaping it in the process, and only then you realise that the poking out fang has been painfully biting on your lip the whole time.

        “I wouldn't say–”

        “Saeran!” Someone turns all the lights on. “Stop hiding out like that, my costume is incomplete without you!”

        You jump away from said Saeran, adjust the collar of your cloak in the name of decency, and wholeheartedly hope that your pale make-up manages to cover the blush underneath.

        Saeran's clone creeps in the threshold, clutching a hem of his white gown with an unexpected skill and grace.

        “Oh! Am I interrupting something?” he asks innocently, but comes a couple steps closer to the two of you.

        “Yes, yes, you are!” Saeran growls, straightening. You can't help but share his annoyance. What it was exactly and where it was going – you don't know – and now, you may never get the chance to find out.

        “Sorry~” Saeran's clone wears a mischievous grin which doesn't quite match the halo on his head. “At least put on these,” he says, throwing something in your general direction. Only when Saeran catches it, you can take a better look. It's a head-band with devil's horns attached to it.

        So he has a costume, after all. Not the most elaborate, but still better than nothing. He doesn’t look too keen to wear it, though.

        "No horns, no party!” the one in a dress yells enthusiastically.

        "I’ll choose ‘no party,’ then."

        "Not an option! Sorry, I’m not the one making the rules. So, suit up and come – let's get this party started with some conga line, whaddya say?” he's about to leave when he turns around once more, “The vampire princess is also invited~”

        And with the last wiggle of his eyebrows, the dress-clad guy is gone.

        You snatch the horns from Saeran's hands – it's the cheap-plastic kind of deal you can get at any festival. And surely enough, you find the switch. The glowing red horns land on his head, sticking out almost seamlessly from his dishevelled red locks.

        “And now you too?” He tries to throw it off, but you stop him.

        “Oh, c’mon! Make my millennium.” You step back a little to give him an assessing look. “Suits you.”

        Saeran shakes his head in a feigned disbelief, “There’s a special spot in hell for sinners like you.”

        “I’d love to find out what you’d do to me if I got there, but I’m afraid I’m immortal.” You say in, what you hope is, a seductive whisper.

        From this angle, the red lights glimmer in his eyes like a warning.

        “We'll have to make do with the time we have tonight,” he says.

        It must have been flirting done right because he grabs you by your waist, bringing you closer to him.

        “Wanna get out of here, princess?” he murmurs to your ear, the timbre of his husky voice shattering your facade of composure.

        You only manage to hum in response, but it’s enough, and soon you find yourself lead out the kitchen and through the crowd of sweaty bodies, his hand never letting go of yours. Adrenaline rushes through your veins as you’re looking around afraid that Saeran’s brother will appear in front of you to ruin the fun.

        It’s been a while since you’ve done something spontaneous, and somehow Saeran seems to be a perfect person to be irresponsible with. God, you needed this. You run and giggle at how stupid it is that you’re dressed up as a vampire and yet feel so alive.

        When you finally reach the door, you still keep an eye on the surroundings, making sure you’re out of radar range while Saeran is skimming trough the overflowing hallstand. You came here wearing only your cloak, but something tells you, you won’t be cold tonight. He finally pulls out his leather jacket from underneath the tons of other clothes, but he’s not done there until he fishes out car keys from some other jacket’s pocket.

        “It’s not yours, is it?” you ask, but he only smiles in a truly devilish way and goes out.

        Yes, definitely, he’s not the bore you took him for. The party hasn’t even started yet.

        You only catch him up at the end of the staircase leading out of this weird underground apartment. He pushes the door open, ready to go into the night, knowing that you’ll follow, but you tag at his arm stalling him in place.

        “No, wait!”

        He turns to you with an adorably puzzled look, and you do the only logical thing. His jacket isn’t zipped up, it barely hangs on him, and it’s almost too easy to stand up on your toes and aim where every vampire would. The contact ends in a blink, but leaves you gasping for breath.

        Your dark lipstick leaves a mark on his pale neck. He looks pleased, but still very much puzzled, and the recognition lights up in his eyes only when you jingle the keys in his face.

        “I’m driving.”

~~

On that day, Yoosung promised himself that under no circumstances will he ever take care of party snacks again.

[mouthful-of-bees]

tagged by the awesome @isisishtar !!

Author name: Lee/mouthfulofbees on ao3

Fandoms you write for: mostly yugioh dm - i did two hobbit ones when i first made my ao3 and i’ve done one for yugioh gx and one for bungou stray dogs 

Where you post: just ao3! mouthfulofbees is the pseud for anime and dog_fish for everything else

Most popular one shot: first fic i ever posted, called ‘bargeman, bowman’. it’s a hobbit fic and holds a special place in my heart, slightly embarrassing parts included.

Most popular multi-chapter: that’ll be good ol ‘roundabout’, a fic which i am leaving up as is and aiming to post an additional rewrite that i can hopefully finish this time. i do want to resolve the plot but i’ll have to shift some story elements to get there. hence the rewrite!

Favourite story you wrote: so far it’s probably ‘wouldn’t you like to see something strange’, the halloween oneshot from a couple years ago. i really nailed the mood i was aiming for, in my own distinguished opinion. that was also the one i later edited, shortened, and turned in to one of my professors as part of an assignment. she liked it a lot, and someone else asked if they could keep a copy after i casually read it to them too. definite confidence booster there

Story you were nervous to post: i’d say ‘a day in the life’ since it was the first time i’d ever written gemshipping, let alone written those characters as a focus

How do you choose your titles: i usually try to pick an existing term/quote that fits well enough. having a title for the drafting stage helps me stay motivated, and by the end i tend to keep the draft title and just change it a bit for the final posting. 

theres also that yugioh gx WIP that i literally dreamed the title to - woke up and was like “yup” and wrote it down. i love telling that story haha

Do you outline: yep, i do a bullet-point list of stuff i want to include and then expand on that to write an outline, which i then expand on to write the actual text. the outline is pretty bare although i do make sure to add in little specific details/turns of phrase that i want to put in the scene. 

sometimes i’ll change something on the fly as i write the story, so the outline can be flexible. more than once i’ve put “bleh solve the problem” there in hopes that inertia will carry me through

Complete: i have 8 completed fics! the two incomplete ones both have more than two chapters and i’ve had trouble picking them back up :^( haven’t given up tho

In progress: the published WIPs i have are ‘roundabout’ and ‘checkpoint reached’. for yugioh stuff i’ve got notes for the gemship accidental adoption au, heartshipping small town au, and some bits for an ancient egypt fic

Coming soon: HOO boy i have so many ideas. the one that’s most likely to be posted looks to be the ‘do you remember’ au, which is essentially what happens when my brain sees the hikari/yami dynamic in some dm fics and then starts to wonder how the lore itself would work out. and then refuses to let it go.

i have a lil prologue(?) in my drafts and that i think i might just post because fuckit right? maybe i’ll get extra motivation through feedback hey! i still love that one dumb piece of dialogue i thought of that helped get the wheels turning, which was “look i’m flattered you want me to join your magical clique or whatever but can we not do it in the walmart cereal aisle”

Do you accept prompts: not right now, too much going on

Upcoming story you are most excited to write: right now its the ‘do you remember’ au

uhhh tagging @van-ludwig-writes, @toonamifaithful, @kittykaibasblog, and @rykura if u guys would like! if anyone else sees this and wants to pitch in that would be lovely!

[zetalial]

BH rewatch episode 26

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Episode 26: Reunion

Hey, this is the final episode in part 2. It’s also the best. Yeah, this is definitely the best episode I’ve watched so far. (That might be heresy, I know a lot of people love Death of the Undying.) But this episode is both Ed-centric and emotional. What’s not to love?

Ling and Ed fight Envy who’s regrettably still in his giant, incredibly distracting form. They’re just swinging swords about and Envy’s absolutely huge so it’s not going all that well. At first, Edward is just as angry and determined as Ling. But then he starts hearing the souls speaking.

Envy’s body is huge, made up of countless trapped souls that make up his Philosopher’s stone core. All over his skin are these faces and they’re in pain and they’re speaking. Seeing one crying out in pain makes Ed freeze as he finds he can’t attack.

Ling’s telling him to ignore them, that they’re just a mindgame and they’re not really people anymore. But Ed hears one that gives him a flashback towards Nina. He’s reminded of his failure to save her and he can’t allow himself to hurt these souls either.

Envy, meanwhile, confirms that these were the souls from the lost city of Xerxes. Edward gathers that Envy’s creator must have somehow been responsible for its destruction and he wonders who might have done such depraved acts. This is all leading up to the introduction of Father. 

Outside, Alphonse is still following Gluttony into Father’s lair. Mei and Scar are still looking for her panda and they hear its in the possession of Alphonse. They see him and Gluttony (whom Scar recognises as a Homunculus) and follow them at a distance into the sewers.

The show hasn’t hit me with too many contrivances lately but this one is annoying. Mostly Al has been keeping the panda inside his armour so it wouldn’t be visible to onlookers but just now he’s carrying her around on her shoulder. I know that Mei and Scar were searching but it still seems incredibly convenient that they would spot Al and Gluttony just before they head underground. The fact that Al having her bear by complete coincidence is turning into a plot point necessary for the story to advance is already slightly annoying.

And the presence of both of them in the next episode will be incredibly important. Their presence is critical to the story. Not only in helping save the Elrics in the immediate but also giving the two of them the idea to seek Mei out later which will be their entire motivation for going north to Briggs. It all happened because Al grabbed the panda in their earlier encounter. And then Scar spots Al mere moments before he heads underground so they follow him down.

Oh well. We also get another look at the Fuhrer. He tells Roy the story of how he was made because he felt like sharing I guess. It’s also foreshadowing how a Homunculus can be made out of a human by injecting the Philosopher’s stone into them, allowing for it to take over its host. 

Bradley speaks of a program with an evil scientist training a whole class on becoming the perfect leader and each subject being injected. Twelve have already died before Bradley is tried and he of course manages to survive. Unlike other Homunculi, he is a single, particularly Wrathful soul. 

He does identify as Homunculus though and makes it clear to Mustang that he has no intention of becoming human, that he takes pride in being Homunculus. He mentions Lust here, how she died with her pride as a Homunculus intact. 

Back to the Envy encounter. Ling is still urging Ed to fight, that he can’t let himself be distracted by the faces as they’re no longer people anymore. Edward doesn’t listen. He’s lost his will to fight and no longer puts up any resistance. There’s this awesome image of Envy’s tongue sliding out and the souls inside it all lifting Ed up from the ground, slowly enveloping him as Envy swallows him.

Wow Ed, first you’re eaten now by Gluttony, and now Envy? 

Eventually, Ed sees the Philosopher’s stone at the centre of Envy’s body and finally thinks of a way out. Telling Envy he’s thought of a way out is enough to convince Envy to let him out, of course. 

Ed points out the stone’s from Xerxes and Envy fetches some of the other pieces. Most of this circle had been swallowed by Gluttony long ago to hide the evidence of the destruction of Xerxes and Ed finds it similar to what he saw in Lab 5. He accuses Envy of trying to recreate the same thing that happened in Xerxes in Amestris. 

Ed’s plan is clever. They perform human transmutation- this time on themselves, living people rather than dead - to open up the true portal of Truth. That way they can get out of this fake Gateway and end up back in the real world. 

Ed tells them that any backlash would affect him if it goes wrong. To do this though, they’ll need to use the Philosopher’s stone. Edward doesn’t want to ask, he’s afraid and disgusted at the idea of using souls to do this. 

(Does he not see that the souls, whatever’s left of them seem to be in great pain? I wish he thought about using them in a way other than simply it being wrong. Or just explored his sense of morality here a little more. Ling and Envy are both perfect people to debate with about this, both being far more willing to use the Philosopher’s stone. There’s this line in 03 where Tucker tries to convince Ed to use the incomplete stones in Lab 5 and when Ed points out that they’re people, his response is a cold “Would you be able to turn them back?” I’m not saying it needs to go the same way as 03, I just sort of wish the topic was being broached here a little more. Sorry, really must stop mentioning 03...)

Anyway, Ed reluctantly goes through with his plan. He offers an apology to the souls he uses up. He opens the gateway of Truth again and their bodies all disintegrate (to be reformed outside Gluttony’s stomach.) Truth, on seeing Ed, notes that he’s not even trying to get his body back. That makes me think he could’ve used a couple of those souls to get his arm and leg back while he’s transmutating Envy anyway. Alas, Edward is not willing to even consider something like that as it wasn’t so much as discussed before. 

Anyway, best moment coming up. Ed appears in the void and now there’s two gates here, his and his brother’s. In front of the opposite Gate is his brother’s body. It’s not looking well, being incredibly malnourished with the stomach so sunken in. His hair has grown out too. Ed goes up to him but arms drag him back. Al tells him that he’s sorry but only his soul can take back his body.

Ed’s pulled away. The gate closes. Silence. Then they open up once more as Ed fights against the hands dragging him back. Music comes in as Ed promises that he’ll save him and get his body back before being pulled away once more.

I love that ending. And that’s the end of Part 2. It really closes on a great moment! 

No more hearing Hologram, which is probably my least loved opening song anyway. Oh, I like all of them. Rain is my favourite, then Again, then Golden time lover, then Period. Sadly Hologram isn’t my favourite though it does have that awesome image of a grinning Lust and the tree from Rain and the traintracks from Rewrite. 

Er anyway, I loved the emotion in this episode. I complained last episode that there was too much comedy and we don’t see Ed being hit with much despair and this episode actually has Ed in a moral dilemma and its good. The tone here isn’t comedic, it’s full of emotion and that’s just what I love.

I’m actually going to skip the next episode. I have no interest in ever watching the creepy episode interlude party again. It’s mostly a recap and it just makes the Trisha/Hohenheim dynamic really creepy by having her show up as a young kid. Ugh. So next episode will be episode 28. 

[coolestqcumber]

Half a Heart (Linong - Nine Percent)

Word Count: Apprx 2.6k

It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves. -Shakespeare

Soulmate!au

 This is it. He’s going to break up with me right now. “I’m gay.” You choked on your tea. While you had expected your soulmate to break up with you, you hadn’t foreseen it to be for this reason. Your now-ex-boyfriend winced at your reaction and patted you on the back as you attempted to cough the hot liquid out of your throat. You have always felt slightly off about your and Zhengting’s relationship. While he was sweet and doting, sparks never really seemed to fly between the two of you. And now you knew why.

 “It’s okay. I’m okay,” you rasped and waved him off. You downed the rest of your tea in one gulp and swiped your napkin across your mouth. You reached across the table and took his hand in yours. The matching heart tattoos shimmered gold on both your wrists, even under the dim romantic lighting of the cafe. “I’m sorry. It must’ve been so hard for you,” you murmured as you watched the hearts on your wrists dull to a plain black before half of it disappeared leaving behind an incomplete heart, the symbol of a severed soulmate bond.

 The origins of the soulmate bond was still a mystery to people, though there were some aspects of it figured out. When a person turns 18, their soulmate mark appears on their wrist (on the left wrist for guys and on the right for girls). The mark is a simple heart which is styled uniquely to match the one of your predestined significant other. And when you and your soulmate meet, the hearts would turn a sparkling gold: a complete soulmate bond.

 No one could figure out why the marks appeared or why the soulmate bonds existed. Over the centuries, scientists grew fed up with researching the phenomenon and let the rumors run wild. The most popular was a legend of how humans were created to be the playthings of the children of the gods above. The children loved to imagine their toys in a world of fairytales where there is a princess for every prince just waiting for him to sweep her off her feet and the soulmate bonds came into existence.

 Sounds romantic? No good things ever last. Eventually, the children grew up to be gods and goddesses themselves, no longer caring to play with their humans any longer. However, while they neglected their playthings, the grown children didn’t have the heart to destroy the toys had brought them so much joy in the past. So the soulmate bond was set on auto-run. As time went on, it seemed as if soulmates were no longer carefully selected to be the perfect match for one another, rather just randomly assigned.

 And humans eventually found that breaking the soulmate bond was possible. Nowadays, your soulmate was often your first love, but was hardly ever your last.

 “Sh!t! I wish I could stop crying. I used my fancy mascara today and it’s all going to waste,” you complained irritably into your phone’s speaker. You didn’t know why you were crying. You weren’t exactly sad. Just disappointed maybe, and a tad bit lonely.

 You pouted at the sound of giggling on the other side of the phone. “Chen Linong, are you laughing right now?!” you demanded, feeling offended by the lack of sympathy you were receiving from your best friend. “No?” the voice on the phone replied timidly. “And please stop pouting. The pout mixed with your crying face is almost too ugly for me to bear.” You were about to make a harsh retort about his face before you realized: wait, how did he know you were pouting?

 You looked up and there he was. Linong wore a soft smile on his face as he walked toward you, pushing his bike along with him. “Here.” He tossed you a small bag. There were makeup wipes and tissues inside. Linong sat down next to you on the park bench, and waited patiently for you to clean yourself up.

 When you were done, you sighed quietly and leaned your head against his shoulder. “This sucks,” you murmured. “What? The fact that you guys broke up?” Linong asks, wrapping a comforting arm around you. “No. The fact that he’s gay! And I didn’t know. Now I feel bad because I was holding him back because I didn’t want to break up with my soulmate. But now that I think about it, there were so many signs. I was just too selfish to admit it to myself.”

 “Yeah, you could definitely tell by the way he was eyeing up Kunkun during dance practices.” Your jaw dropped and you sat up straight, “You knew?! And you didn’t think to tell me?” “It’s not that easy-” You cut him off, “You literally could’ve been like ‘Hey y/n, your soulmate is gay and you should probably get yourself out of that relationship because it’s a waste of your time.”

 “That’s not what I meant. I’m just saying that it had to happen on your own time,” Linong said gently and you nodded your head understandingly. You sighed again. “Don’t worry. It’s not the end of the world. You’ll get over it soon.” You stared at the black mark on Linong’s wrist. “Yeah, I’ll get over it.” Linong took your hand in his and pulled you to stand up. “Come on, I’ll take you home.” You obediently followed Linong to his bike and hopped on, wrapping your arms securely around his waist.

 As Linong pedalled furiously down the sidewalks, he felt you sleepily lean against his back and his breath caught in his throat. The streets were silent, the only sound was the soft metallic clicks coming from the gears spinning on the bike. “I wish you were my soulmate,” you mumbled and Linong almost crashed the bike in surprise. “Do you mean that?” he asked, but you were already asleep. Even though he knew you probably didn’t mean it and you couldn’t hear him, Linong couldn’t help himself from replying with a quiet “me too.”

 The next few days were mostly spent indoors hanging out with Linong. The two of you were having a movie marathon, but the movie playing was being neglected in favor of a popcorn eating contest. A sharp knock at the door interrupted your fun.

 You tried to brush the crumbs off your face the best you could and answered the door. “Zhengting?” “Hey Y/n, I just came to pick up some of my stuff. I know I should’ve called- Oh hi Nongnong,” Zhengting greeted as Linong materialized at your side. You let your ex inside and followed him to your once-shared bedroom.

 It was a bit strange to be in the same room as someone you used to date, hug, and kiss. But at the same time, it also felt liberating to stand next to Zhengting and not be expected to do coupley things (he had always been super touchy while you were not particularly fond of it).

 “So are you and Linong official yet?” Zhengting asked casually collecting his belongings, interrupting your thoughts. “WHAT?! No! Where’d you get that idea from?” Zhengting glanced around your room and you followed his gaze. Zhengting strolled over to a picture frame filled with polaroids. “You don’t have any pictures of me in here even though I was your boyfriend for more than half a year, and yet he’s in every single one.” You shrugged, “That literally proves nothing. He’s my best friend.”

 He picked a random hoodie off the ground, “This isn’t mine, is it?” You shook your head, “It’s Nongnong’s.” Zhengting wore an expression as if to say ‘there you go!’ You huffed, “Best friends can wear each other’s clothes!”

 Zhengting sighed exasperatedly, “Okay, what about how you feel about him then?” You sighed heavily, “I don’t know. I guess...I just never thought about it before. I just don’t want to lose what we have between us right now; it feels-” “Comfortable,” Zhengting finished for you. “See, this is your problem. Y/n, you’re so stuck on feeling comfortable that you throw away all your chances of true happiness. You didn’t break up with me because you were comfortable in our relationship. But did it make you happy?”

 You were silent. Zhengting sighed and patted your shoulder as he moved to leave. “The poor guy has been waiting for-ever for you. Please don’t make him wait any longer. And please don’t make yourself wait anymore.”

 Stupid Zhengting. Ever he said those things about you and Linong, you felt like you couldn’t see him as the best friend you always knew. Now you were micro analyzing everything he was doing. Did he really like you? That was just crazy talk, right? Zhengting was probably just messing with you. You winced as you remember that one of Zhengting’s most defining traits was his honesty.

 Linong held open the door for you to the noodle shop. Was that a sign that he liked you? You groaned internally. This was hopeless. You were hopeless. This seriously needed to stop if you wanted to be normal in front of your best friend. The food the two of you ordered arrived, temporarily distracting you from your internal crisis.

 You blew at the fragrant steam rising from your bowl of noodles. You picked up your chopsticks and began eating. Your best friend teasing kicked your foot under the table and you looked up to glare at him. Linong grinned at the sight of your grumpy face with your mouth stuffed full of food.

 And, all of the sudden, Linong was just breathtakingly handsome. The corners of his eyes were crinkled with laughter, his lips were split in a wide smile, and his teeth seemed to wink at you under the fluorescent lights of the restaurant. Your mouth fell open because (damn) how had you not noticed before how hot your best friend was.

 However, when your jaw decided to unhinge itself, it did not account for the noodles you had been shoveling into it. And as soon as your trap opened, the contents fell out. It was probably a revolting sight. But Linong didn’t seem bothered by it. If anything, he laughed even harder.

 “Sorry, I...choked,” you managed to stutter out. Linong flashed you another heart stopping smile. “Just finish eating before your noodles get cold. And here-” Linong reached across the table to dab some soup from the corner of your mouth. He smiled yet again and your heart gave an uncomfortable squeeze in your chest. Was this what it felt like to fall in love?

 You were officially freaking out. For the rest of the evening, you tried to keep yourself from ogling at Linong. When you returned home, you had proceeded to look up everything about crushes on the Internet. Then, you had tossed and turned in your bed for the rest of the night, debating your entire existence.

 Confess? You didn’t want to be one of those shallow girls that just threw herself at a boy as soon as she had a slight interest. But was it just a “slight interest” though? Of course you had crushes before, but never like this. The rush of warmth you got today whenever Linong’s hand brushed against yours, or when he took care of you. Maybe you had always liked him but was too scared to admit it to yourself.

 When you had been with Zhengting, you always seemed to be pushing yourself to do things you wouldn’t have normally enjoyed. Meanwhile, around Linong, you never felt yourself straining to be...something you weren’t. You could just be unapologetically you and Linong would always accept you as you were.

 You pressed your face into your pillow and groaned. What were you going to do?

 “Hey…..hey!” you whispered harshly in Linong’s direction. When he turned towards you, you threw the crumpled up note to him. The paper hit Linong square in the face, knocking his glasses askew. You winced and mouthed a ‘sorry’ when he shot you an annoyed look and stuck his tongue out.

 You felt your heartbeat quicken as you watched him unfold the paper and read its contents. Like a hawk, you watched him scrawl something on the paper before throwing it to you without looking back.

 With trembling hands, you opened the paper and stared in open shock at what Linong wrote. Instead of choosing ‘yes or no’ , he had circled the ‘or’ in between. At the bottom of the paper, Linong had written “IS THAT ALL YOU GOT?” (yes, in all-caps). You looked up to find him already looking at you with his chair tilted back casually and smiling innocently. You flipped him off and Linong replied by blowing you a kiss. You flicked the imaginary kiss away and pretended to watch it sail off into the distance.

 Linong laughed and his chair, which had been balancing on two of its legs, slipped out from under him. Linong went down flailing, banging his head on the desk behind him in the process. The room went silent. The teacher sighed tiredly and sent Linong to the nurse’s office.

 You rushed to the nurse’s office as soon as class let out. “Oh my goodness, are you okay Nongnong?” you exclaimed when you saw him lying on the bed with an ice pack on his head. He groaned in response, letting you know he was alive. “Let’s just go home.”

 The nurse must’ve given him pain relievers that made people slightly loopy because Linong was more giggly than normal on the way home. Linong suddenly stopped and grabbed your shoulders, forcing you to face him. “Y/n, my answer is yes.” You wrinkle your brow in confusion, “What?”

 Linong huffed and rolled his eyes dramatically, “Yes! I like you.” He hugged you to his side and continued his ramblings. “I waited for such a long time for you! And then you confessed first. Imagine that! Even though it was kind of a trashy confession, I feel like I could die from happiness.”

 You crossed your arms and frowned at him, “I spent a lot of time planning that ‘trashy confession’ out. I scoured the web for at least an hour for ideas and then I spent the whole class waiting for the teacher to turn his back on the class to pass you that ‘trashy confession’.” You wiggled yourself out of Linong’s embrace and snarled, “I didn’t even get to take any notes in class today because of you and my ‘trashy confession.’”

 Linong leaned waaaaaay in, so that your faces were only a few centimeters apart. “Should I give you a reward for all your hard work?” he asked lowly. You gulped, not used to this side of your bestie who was normally all sunshine and no shade. He smiled and his intimidating aura morphing back to the innocent persona you were used to.

 He took your face between his hands and pressed his lips to your forehead. Your breath caught in your throat and you quickly hugged him around the waist. You bury your face in Linong’s chest, hiding the blush on your face.

 He pulled away from you and took your hand in his. Mystified, you stared down at your intertwined fingers and that’s when you noticed it. The incomplete halves of the soulmate marks on each of your wrists were pressed together, lining up to form a lopsided but complete heart. Linong’s half look faded and choppy, as if it had been scrawled onto his wrist with a crayon. Your mark was smooth with the stroke enlarging at the bottom, like it was drawn with a calligraphy pen. The heart wasn’t perfect. But love was never meant to be perfect anyways.

[peppered-imps]

wip 1. snip 2.

disclaimer: these snippets are short and possibly incomplete in terms of editing. I’ll post (mostly) multiple snippets from multiple pieces but they won’t necessarily be connected (if that makes sense). they will be from separate areas of the story. I’m posting them to see what kind of feedback I receive in terms of wording, pacing, how in character they are, etc and using that as a gauge to see where I should focus my attention right now creatively and what piece I should work on currently. thanks for reading!

context: this is also from my opus, a season 1 au that’s been in the works for about 2.5-ish years now. a fuller description can be found in wip 1. snip 1. this snippet is a shower scene (a pretty tame, unsexy shower scene, sorry) that takes place after the episode “tooms” so significant time has passed since the first snippet you read. ideally, in the full piece, you’ll have more context to the relationship the agents have during their time on the x files and prior, as previously hinted at. this bit also isn’t as refined as the first bit. what I’d love to know about this is how the flow is— is this too clunky? does it seem ooc? does it drag too much?

references to nudity, some mild innuendo, and implications of death

tagging @frangipanidownunder because she’s a doll ♥

—

“Come on,” she said softly, tilting her head towards the bathroom. He followed her lead, squinting away from the disorienting bright white of the light she’d flipped on. She pulled a towel out of the small closet near the shower and set it on the sink then reached for him, wrapping her fingers around the edges of his blanket and jacket, peeling them away and dropping them to the floor. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Scully,” he muttered. “What’re you—“

“Shhh.” She began unlooping the once pearly buttons of his once white shirt through their holes, her fingers occasionally slipping on some congealed bile that sank into the button grooves. He reached up, stopping her hands from moving further down.

“Scully.”

“Mulder, don’t,” she warned, not looking up. He held her hands for another moment, the two of them completely still in the midnight silence of the bathroom. With the tiniest swipe of his thumbs against her wrists, he let her go.

Mulder watched as she slowly undressed him, her eyes trained on the task at hand. He didn’t try to stop her again; the crinkle in her brow and stiffness in her lip told him she felt she had to do this. Not for him, but for herself. She slowly knelt to the ground, unlacing his shoes and pulling them and his socks off, one by one, then stood again, undoing his belt and fly. She held his gaze for just a moment, her fingers resting at his waistband, then turned away, turning the shower tap on. She reached a hand in and turned it around a few times, testing the water as he stepped out of his pants and boxers.

When he finally turned to get in a moment later, he was halted by the sight of Scully— half undressed, white shirt open and framing her satin covered breasts, fingers working at the button of her own slacks. She paused and looked up, color rising to her cheeks as she turned her eyes downward again.

“Water’s ready,” she muttered, stripping off her shirt and stepping past him to put the rest of his clothes in the garbage bag. She straightened, finishing her own disrobing and throwing those clothes in the bag as well. Mulder was still staring at her at her as she stepped up to the glass shower door, her backside facing him. “Come on, Mulder, get in.”

Mulder wrinkled his brow at her. “You don’t have to do this, Scully.”

She was quiet for a moment then nodded, turning back to him and reaching out a hand. “I know. I want to.”

He pursed his lips slightly, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, scraping his teeth along it as it popped back out, then stepped forward, slipping his hand into hers.

Mulder was under the stream first, water falling down his shoulders and back, rivulets sliding down his chest. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, stretching his neck from side to side, only just realizing how sore he actually was as the water beat against his tired muscles. Scully reached across the tight space and gathered up a washcloth and bar of soap, turning it over a few times and filling the rag with suds.

She ran it gently over Mulder’s shoulders, along his collarbone, and up his neck. She scrubbed behind his ears, down his nape, then circled back over the ball joint of his shoulder. Pulling one of his thick, toned arms up, she laid his wrist on her shoulder and focused all her energy on scrubbing the night from his skin, then did the same with his other arm. Soon, the sharp sting of Tooms’ venom was overpowered by the delicately mild scent of Dove soap bubbles.

He stroked her hairline with his thumb, watching her hand glide up and down his arm then reach to rinse and re-soap the washcloth. She focused on a spot of grease on his wrist. Her touch was so gentle, so caring, and he wondered— what had he done in his life to deserve someone so tender towards him? Someone who touched him without expectation, without malice or fear. Someone who put her trust so fully in him and asked only for his own in return. What had he done to deserve a life with Dana Scully?

“Hey,” she swiped his nose, leaving a trail of suds dripping from the tip, reclaiming his fading attention. “Come back to me.”

Mulder looked up, finding her eyes full of warm affection, and smiled softly. “I’m here.”

She rubbed his cheeks gently, his eyes slipping closed as she guided the cloth over his forehead and down to his chin. She wiggled her way between him and the tap, rinsing the rag and his face as she did so before resudsing again.

He took the soap bar from her before she could set it back down and lathered up his hands. His hands roamed over the curve of her shoulder, down her arm, over her elbow, back up and to the other side. The bubbles slid in frothy ribbons down her freckled chest and arms. He cupped her face gently in his soapy palms and circled his thumbs over her cheeks, each swipe revealing more freckles and pinked skin. The lipstick she had worn was smudged along her bottom lip from the heat of the water; he rubbed his thumbs over her mouth and she leaned into his touch. They continued to wash each other in silence, the only sound was the fall of water around them until Scully spoke again.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He ran a soapy finger down the slope of her neck, hooking it into the delicate gold chain around her neck, twisting the cross between his forefinger and thumb, wonderingly. “I don’t think so. Do you?”

She didn’t answer, just squirted some shampoo into her hand and gestured for Mulder to lean down. Obliging her, he bent his head low, nearly to her shoulder, bracing his hands on her waist. She slowly weaved her fingers through his hair, stirring up a rich lather and working it into his scalp with soothing swipes. She pressed her fingers into his temples, his crown, his occipitals, easing the tension out. He sighed deeply, the slow exhale of his breath cooling her wet skin. She rested her cheek against his crown.

“When I first met you,” she started slowly, “I don’t think I ever could have imagined we’d end up where we are.”

He raised his head, wiggling his brows as he glanced her up and down. “Never?”

She huffed out a small laugh and pushed his head back down, scratching her fingers through his hair. “I just mean… the cases we investigate are unlike any I’ve ever seen. They’re complex and, and mystifying, but they’re full of so much more danger than I’d ever thought possible. I know there’s a danger in every field investigation, but the circumstances of a typical X-File seem to add another level to it all.”

“Scully, if working these cases is becoming too overwhelming, I want you to tell me,” Mulder mumbled into her shoulder. “I don’t want you risking your life for something you don’t believe in. This has always been my crusade and I’d hate to see you get hurt because of my own causes.”

“Mulder, please,” Scully scoffed, rolling her eyes. “The X-Files may be your life’s work but it’s not just an assignment for me. It means something to me, too. I wouldn’t do this for anyone but you, remember? Rinse.” She pushed her shoulder forward and he lifted his head, tilting it backwards into the stream after they switched spots again. He pushed the hair sticking to his forehead away and opened his eyes to find her watching him. She smirked. “Besides, who would save your ass if I wasn’t there?”

He grinned then lathered up his own hands again, pushing his long fingers through her hair and filling it with foam. Her eyes slid shut as he rubbed over her temples and crown, trying his best to mimic her movements.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” he murmured a few minutes later, leaning down to kiss her shoulder, her neck, tenderly after she’d finished rinsing, running his hands along the slick curve of her spine as he held her close. Pulling back, she smiled at him and nodded, then leaned her forehead against his.

“Always,” she whispered. “Always for you.”

And then she was kissing him softly, the tips of her fingers brushing against his jaw, his three-day-stubble surely rough against the pads. Months had passed since their last kiss, yet their lips moved with the ease and familiarity of years long lovers, time folding over itself and bridging the gap between then and now. He was struck, something deep in his gut pinging sharply, at how easy it was to kiss Scully. How easy it was to love her.

He pulled back, cupping her cheeks, and searched her eyes, wondering if she could feel what he felt now, what he was sure he felt then. Her eyes were shining, wide with affection and something warm. His reluctant heart skipped hopefully. He kissed her again– once, twice, three times–gentle little pecks, pulling her flush against him and burying his nose in her neck, breathing in her clean, wet skin. Her arms wrapped around his back, fingers digging into his shoulders. He felt her nuzzle into his shoulder and her long sigh cooling his chest. It was quiet; they didn’t need to speak. Everything that needed to be said was held in the air around them, buzzing through their ears, soaking into their skin with the lukewarm water drops. The spray of the shower was the only noise in this sacred silence.

[hymn2000]

Freeze - MCU AU Fanfic - C23

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Story synopsis:- When a burst gas main destroys everything and leaves Peter with nothing, the Stark’s take him in. Thrown together by necessity, they then need to try to keep it together and build a new life. Devastated by loss, Peter doesn’t make things easy for them, and Loki and Tony struggle with their own grief and the responsibility of having someone completely dependant on them.

Chapter description:- There’s a change of plan, which ends up being quite scary to begin with

Story warnings/themes: character death, hurt/comfort, trauma, grief, depression/mental health issues, bullying, corporal punishment

Relationships: Frostiron (Loki x Tony) (romantic), Tony and Peter (platonic), Loki and Peter (platonic)

From the same AU as Called To Be A Rock

Chapter 23 - I Smile Again 

-

Peter woke up early on Thursday morning feeling strangely calm. He got ready for school with no fuss. He gave Tony a hug by way of apology, but he’d fallen non-verbal, and didn’t say anything.

-

“Are you ok?” Macy asked, watching him struggle to finish his toast.

Peter shrugged. He wasn’t quite sure.

“Haven’t you got much of an appetite today?”

Peter shook his head. Macy squeezed his good hand.

“How’s your hand? Better?”

Peter nodded slightly. He would be allowed to take the bandages off and keep to plasters after today, but he didn’t have the energy to write all that down for her. He was too tired to do anything much.

-

Mrs Ilam looked at the class over the rim of her half-moon glasses.

“Mr Parker” she said firmly. “Would you come here, please?”

Millie squeezed his hand in encouragement, and he stood up and approached the desk.

“Now. I asked everyone to make a draft of their ‘My Family’ autobiography to hand in to me today. Everyone in the class has handed me something, aside from you. Did you forget it?”

Peter shook his head.

“Well then. Where is it?”

Peter didn’t respond. He hated the feeling of everyone watching him.

“Peter” Mrs Ilam said. “Have you written a draft?”

Peter shook his head.

“And why is that?”

Peter glanced back over at his desk, where he’d left his whiteboard. Mrs Ilam saw him looking.

“No need for that: there’s a whiteboard right here” she tapped it with a whiteboard pen, which she then handed to him. “Why don’t you tell everyone why you have neglected to complete this assignment?”

She sat back in her chair, looking pleased with herself. Peter swallowed hard, looking at the pen in his hand. He supposed he had no choice. He scrawled his answer and quickly left the room, collapsing into a chair in the corridor, leaving his message on the board.

You can’t write about something you don’t have

-

It was only a few minutes before the classroom door opened. Peter looked up, and Mrs Ilam closed the door and sat down beside him. She put his whiteboard on his lap.

“I’m sorry. I was insensitive”

Peter didn’t have anything to say. He looked down at the whiteboard until it blurred. He hated himself for being reduced to tears so easily, but he couldn’t help it.

“We’ll have to discuss this further” she said. “We can bend the rules a bit, widen the definition of family. You will need to write something. Perhaps you could write about your guardians?”

Peter shook his head, and went to wipe his eyes. Mrs Ilam stopped him.

“Peter, how many times?” she said, reaching into his front blazer pocket and whipping out his handkerchief. “Not on your sleeve”

Peter took the handkerchief to wipe his eyes with. He hadn’t been in trouble at this school yet, not really, but he got tutted at often for two things:- shrugging, and wiping his eyes on his sleeve. He hadn’t quite shaken the habits yet.

“There now. Are you ready to come back in?”

Peter took a very deep breath, and nodded. He’d have to face it eventually, and he supposed sooner was better than later.

-

School was exhausting. Peter was glad to get in the car at the end of the day. He wasn’t so glad when he had to sit and do his homework. He was so tired, and he couldn’t concentrate at all. He read the same question over and over again, unable to process it properly. Everything kept going blurry, and he felt hot. He just wanted to get this over with so he could go to bed.

-

Tony gave Peter a little shake, and the boy jumped awake.

“Woah. Hey, it’s just me” Tony said softly. “You dropped off”

Peter looked down at his incomplete homework, and rubbed his eyes, annoyed at himself for falling asleep, but more annoyed that he was crying again. Tony looked at the homework slip.

“This isn’t due in until next week. Have another shot at it at the weekend. It’s ok to take a break. You look exhausted”

Peter nodded. He felt it.

“Why don’t you go and settle down on the sofa for a bit while I get the dinner started? Have a little kip if you need it”

Peter nodded again, pushing himself up from his seat. He felt all weird and wobbly.

“Dad... I don’t feel right”

Tony felt his forehead. “You’re a little bit warm. I think you might just be tired. Hold on a minute” He fetched him a sports drink from the fridge. “Here. You might be a bit dehydrated too. This will help. Now go and settle yourself down. I’ll check on you in a few minutes”

-

Peter curled up under a blanket on the sofa, sipping his drink and trying to concentrate on The Simpsons. Everything seemed all fuzzy at the edges, and he was struggling to keep his eyes open. He’d never felt quite like this before, all weird and hot on top of it all. He wondered if this was what Loki felt like when he had a flare-up.

-

“Hey, sleepy-head”

Peter blinked at him. “...I fell asleep...”

“Yeah, you did. Here, sit up now. You need to eat”

“I don’t really feel hungry” Peter mumbled, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

“It’s nothing heavy” Tony said, putting the tray on his lap. “Just eat what you can. You need the strength”

-

After he’d finished eating, Tony sat down with him.

“Peter, I need to talk to you about something”

Peter looked at him. “What have I done?”

“Nothing, nothing. No, you see, it’s about tomorrow night”

Peter felt a pang. Friday night had turned into a horrible thing to think about. Millie and Macy and Flo were going to be spending the night together - and he wasn’t allowed to go. He now understood Tony’s reasoning, but he was still upset about it.

“I got Millie’s home phone from your mobile, and I talked to her mother again today”

Peter looked at him quizzically.

“We talked, and Peter, I haven’t changed my mind: I’m not comfortable letting you stay over at Millie’s, not right now”

Peter slumped in his seat. He didn’t want to hear this again. What was the point?

“But” Tony said. “We did agree on something”

Peter perked up slightly, head tilted in curiosity.

“If you’d like to, you can go round for the evening, for tea. Straight there after school, and I’ll pick you up at around eight?”

Peter stared at him. Was he hearing him right?

“I- I can go round?”

“Just for the evening. Would you like to?”

Peter burst into tears. He covered his mouth with his hands and nodded.

“Yes! Yes, oh dad, thank you! Thank you thank you thank you!”

He threw himself into Tony’s arms, and Tony laughed and hugged him tight.

“I had a think about it all, and I think it’s unfair for you to have to miss out completely. Take a change of clothes with you to school tomorrow. Millie’s mother said she’d tell Millie, so it’s all fixed”

Peter cried into his chest. “You don’t know how much this means to me!”

“No” Tony said, smiling down at him. “But I can guess”

-

The news spread quickly, and Peter was greeted on Friday morning by all three girls throwing themselves at him. Peter laughed and hugged them happily, crying again.

“Aww! Happy tears!” Millie laughed, kissing his face. It was a nice change.

Peter could feel himself blushing. Flo and Macy laughed and kissed him too, making him blush more. He felt so happy. He got out his phone, finding Ned’s number, and sending him a text.

‘Cafe with the broken neon sign on Sunday? 10am?’

It was hardly a minute before he received a reply.

‘Sure! Can’t wait to see you again!’

Peter laughed happily, hugging his phone to his chest. Things were going to get better. That’s what he believed, in that moment at least.

-

Peter’s heart started thumping at the end of the day as they walked towards the car park.

“Mother said she’d have to send the driver” Millie said. “She’s got some things to do”

She suddenly waved, and Peter saw the Bentley Bentayga SUV she was looking at. It was an impressive looking car, and Peter couldn’t help being impressed. He still felt a little out of place climbing into it. The girls seemed perfectly at home, but then, he supposed they’d been used to this kind of thing all their lives.

-

Millie’s house was enormous, and in a completely different way to the Stark’s. It was more of an estate, with huge grounds. The front hall was something else entirely. It was like something out of a film, or in the very least, a home magazine. Tony often said Loki tried to make their house look like a show-home, but Peter now saw that he was wrong. The Stark’s home was posh and expensive-looking, and mostly clean and tidy, that was true. But there was stuff there too: scattered books and tech and magazines and newspapers. There were statues and trinkets and souvenirs, old greetings cards, cuddly toys on baskets and chairs, and pictures all over the place. Millie’s house showed none of these signs of life. It really did look like a show-house - posh, fancy, but impersonal. Peter wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“Good afternoon, Millie, my dear” A pretty lady in a spotless frilly apron appeared and hugged Millie. She looked a lot like Millie herself. She stood back and looked at the others. “Hello again, Macy, Flo, my dears. Now, you must be Peter. I’ve heard a lot about you”

Peter’s heart was thumping, and his stomach hurt. He half-hid behind Flo, and Millie’s mother smiled.

“Aw, don’t be shy now, dear. I’m Mrs Colette, but you can call me Lettie. Everybody does”

“Childhood nickname” Millie said.

Peter nodded. He’d somehow never caught her last name before. Amelia Colette sounded perfectly prim and proper, but very beautiful too.

“Why don’t you go and get changed, kiddies? I must get back to the kitchen”

Millie led them up the huge gilded staircase, along the corridor, and into her room. It was very cute, all white and baby pink, and somehow absolutely pristine. The floorboards were so highly polished you could almost see a clear reflection in them. Peter looked at everything, another magazine-style room, but looking a little more lived in. Millie had little statues of fairies on the shelves, schoolbooks piled on the desk, and all sorts of little bottles and trinkets on the dressing table. It was an incredible dressing table, with the type of mirrors jointed so you could see the back of your head by positioning it properly. It was beautifully white, with ceramic floral handles on the little drawers.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Millie said, standing beside him. “My uncle made it for me years ago”

“I keep meaning to get myself a proper dressing table like that” Macy said.

Peter turned to look at her, and as he did, felt all the blood rush to his cheeks. She’d started getting changed, but she hadn’t got round to putting her shirt on yet, and was stood in her bra and jeans. She didn’t seem phased. They all three laughed at the look on Peter’s face. Flo started pulling her uniform off, and Peter found himself staring. He knew he shouldn’t, but he was amazed at their confidence. Plus, there was something entrancing about Flo’s long light hair flowing down her bare skin.

“Aren’t you going to get changed?” Millie said, pulling off her tie.

Peter nodded slightly, recovering a little respect and tearing his eyes away. He’d seen the girls in their swim kits, but those standard school one-piece swim suits were very different to seeing them in their underwear. He swallowed hard, trying hard not to be embarrassed - but it was plainly obvious upon catching sight of his reflection in the mirror that he was. He turned his back to get his regular clothes out of his satchel, and found it was more comfortable not to look at them. He had silly tears in his eyes, and he wasn’t really sure why. He felt like maybe this had been a bad idea. Maybe it was just nerves.

The other three kept chatting while they were getting changed. Peter tried to be modest, making sure he was never more than half-undressed at any one time. Even when he was dressed, he felt a little odd. He’d just taken jeans, t-shirt, and hoodie, and now he wasn’t sure if, despite the designer labels, they were too casual. Macy looked lovely in her jeans and a smart little button-up shirt, and Flo and Millie both looked very dignified and dainty in their little dresses. He felt a little out of place.

“Aww, you’re even cuter out of your uniform!” Millie said, giving him a hug. “You’re so cuddly, did you know?”

Peter shrugged slightly, but he smiled at her. He was relieved that they didn’t seem put-off by his choice of clothing. He was, however, nervous of what her parents would think. Her mother seemed nice enough, but she’d heard stories about her father, and they weren’t good ones. It was a nerve-wracking thought. He wasn’t sure he wanted to meet him. He hoped he wouldn’t be home tonight.

-

Millie’s mother didn’t look disapprovingly at his outfit, which was another relief. She left them alone in the kitchen so they had some space. The kitchen smelt distinctly of baking, but looking around, there was no evidence that any actual cooking had been done. Sure, there were cakes and biscuits plated up, but there was no mess on the units, no pans and utensils piled up in the sink. It was as though they had appeared by magic. It was a strange one, and confirmed his suspicions that there was a huge difference between being rich and being posh.

-

Peter still couldn’t speak. Millie’s mother knew about the whiteboard, and was happy to give him the chance to write his responses, and the girls were more than used to it by now. It all felt as though it was going fine. They were talking like they always did, and they were comfortable. The rumours were true: Millie’s mother made great cakes. Peter was happy: he was enjoying himself.

“Hello, dears” Millie’s mother trilled, coming back into the kitchen.

“Hello, mother” Millie said.

“Can I send you four out into the conservatory for a little while? I’ll have dinner ready within the hour”

“Of course, mother” Millie said, standing up.

The others did too, so Peter followed them. The conservatory was just as posh and grand as the rest of the house. Peter looked at the red velvet sofas and thought he’d mark them if he so much as looked at them. The girls all sat down without a second thought though, so he joined them. The whole rich and posh thing was still taking a lot of getting used to. He was grateful of the girls, because they never made him feel any different. They made it easy to forget about the social gap.

-

They went back into the kitchen for their dinner, and Millie’s mother proved herself to be good at making stuff other than just cakes. It was all very nice, eating good food in the worlds fanciest kitchen, warm, comfortable, and surrounded by friends. But, just as they’d finished eating, the front door opened. Its sound seemed to echo round the house, and Peter’s heart stopped. He didn’t need any introduction to know that it was Millie’s father home from work. The footsteps got closer, and Peter’s heart started really thudding, and he broke out in a cold sweat.

“Good evening, father”

Peter looked up, and saw that a man just as stern as he’d imagined had entered the room. He looked incredibly strict. He was older than Peter had expected - definitely older than Tony - and he didn’t exactly look pleased to be there.

“Good evening, Amelia. Florence, Macy” he nodded at the girls, and turned his attention to Peter. “Who are you?”

Peter shrunk away from him, looking down at his hands.

“Father, that’s Peter. You know, I told you about him” Millie said.

“Oh yes. The one who doesn’t speak”

Millie blushed furiously. “That can’t be the only thing you remember me telling you!”

“Don’t take that tone with me, young lady” he snapped, and turned back to Peter. “Parker, isn’t it?”

Peter had to nod, but he still couldn’t bring himself to look at him. A hand came into vision, and he looked up, worried, but it turned out not to be the threat he’d expected. He swallowed hard and took the offered hand. Millie’s father nodded approvingly.

“You have a good, strong handshake” he said.

Peter nodded, and drew his hand back. He wasn’t sure what to make of Millie’s father. He didn’t seem very friendly, but he didn’t seem to hate him, so that was something. He did, however, have a slight look of disapproval on his face. The reasoning was as yet unclear.

-

Millie gave Peter a fierce hug once her father had left the room.

“I’m sorry he scared you” she said, kissing his cheek. “He wasn’t very happy when he heard about you”

Why?

“Probably just wants to protect his little girl from evil predatory boys” Flo said, and collapsed into giggles.

“Flo!” Millie sighed irritably. “He doesn’t care about me. Not unless I’m doing something he can show off about”

Peter shook his head. He didn’t really understand.

“Just ignore him” Millie said loftily. “He’s not a big fan of anyone. At least he actually said something to you”

-

The scare of Millie’s father soon passed, and they went through to the living room. They sat on the floor, put the telly on the music channels, and soon got sucked into a game of truth or dare. It wasn’t long before they were all collapsed in a heap, weak with laughter, tears down their cheeks, their stomachs hurting.

“Ok, ok, I’ve got one!” Macy said, recovering herself. “Millie, I dare you to kiss Peter on the lips!”

“You can’t tell me to do that!” Millie squealed.

“Ok, truth then! How often do you watch porn?”

“MACY!!!” Flo and Millie both squealed.

Macy laughed and sat back on her hands. “Hey, it’s truth or dare! Time to make a choice!”

Millie went beetroot-red. “Fine!”

She covered her face with her hands for a moment. She took a deep breath, shifted position, put her arms round Peter’s shoulders, and kissed him softly on the lips. Flo and Macy all but screamed, but Peter barely heard them. He’d gone all hot, with a cold shiver up his spine - so similar to the fear he’d had upon meeting Millie’s father, but so different. Millie was so soft, so close, so gentle...

She pulled back, slowly taking her arms from round his shoulders. She swallowed, and looked at Macy.

“Happy now?”

Macy stared at her, and burst out laughing, collapsing against Flo and hugging her.

“That was so cute! Aw Peter, your face!”

The living room door opened, and they all stopped short. Millie’s mother stood in the doorway.

“Peter, dear, someone’s here for you”

The kids looked at each other, and Millie noticed the time.

“It’s already eight o’ clock!”

The living room door opened properly, and Tony appeared beside Millie’s mother. Peter was so excited to see him that he jumped up from the floor and ran over to give him a hug.

“Woah! Hey there, fella” Tony smiled and hugged him back. “Have you had a good night? I hope you’ve been behaving yourself!”

“He’s been good as gold” Millie’s mother said, smiling.

Millie, Flo, and Macy had stood up and come over, looking awestruck.

“Peter!” Flo said. “You never told up your dad was Tony Stark!”

Peter looked at her over his shoulder and smiled. Tony stroked his hair gently.

“Technically, I’m his guardian” Tony said. “Now, long blonde hair, you must be Flo. Millie, you look just like your mother, so that means you must be Macy”

They all smiled and giggled.

“My father is going to be so jealous when he hears about this!” Macy said. “He loves your work! He reads all your magazine interviews”

“I’m flattered” Tony smiled.

Just then, Millie’s father came in through the other door. He stopped, recognising Tony straight away.

“Tony Stark?” he said. “The Tony Stark? Well, I never!”

Tony accepted his handshake civilly. Peter buried himself further into Tony’s chest.

“My daughter neglected to tell me who your son was” he said.

“Ah, yes, well, it’s not exactly common knowledge” Tony said. “I wanted to protect him from all that. I’m sure you can understand”

“Of course”

“Woah, this is so cool!” Flo grinned. “Peter, I can’t believe you didn’t tell us”

Peter looked at her, and up at Tony, smiling proudly. Tony smiled down at him.

“Well, kiddo, we’d better be getting you home. Say goodbye to your friends now. And thank Millie’s parents for having you”

Peter nodded, and nodded in appreciation at Millie’s mother. He was too scared of her father, so went straight to hugging his girls. Macy hugged him tight and kissed his cheek, and Flo did the same. And then Peter stood back, and looked at Millie.

“Thanks for coming”

She hugged him tightest of all, burying her face in his neck. Tony smiled fondly, as did Millie’s mother. Her father didn’t look happy, but he stayed quiet. Millie pulled back slightly, and for a moment, Peter thought she was going to kiss him. But she didn’t. She just smiled, bumped their noses together, and let him go.

“See you on Monday”

*

[justowrite]

Late night Stories(4)

genre(s): angst

summary:  I don’t anyone really knows something anything about Baz. Not like I do. 

And maybe I don’t know about enough about Baz either.

words: 1970

warnings: cursing

a/n:  i’m sorry for the delay of this chapter, I’ve been busy...anyway I hop you enjoy this and thanks for reading!! :D

AO3

Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 5

***

Part 4

“This is ridiculous Simon.” I don’t dare to look directly at her eyes. “You have to get over this breakup, you two are friends.” Instead, I stare at Agatha on the other side of the living room, sitting on the couch. “Simon!” Penny calls for my attention.

I nod. “Yeah...you are right.”

And I think she was expecting me to fight more because when I finally turn to see her, she stares confused with her mouth open like she was about to speak.

I sit carefully next to Agatha, she doesn’t look up from her phone. “Hey…” Nothing. “Look, Agatha, I wanted to talk to you about…” She cuts me, still staring at her phone.

“I already told you, Simon, we are not getting back together.” I gulp, her voice is cold and unwelcoming, “I can’t love you, not like you want…”

“I don’t want that either.” She only gives a confused glance, after I interrupt her.

“I’m can’t keep going with something I can’t feel Simon.”

“No, it’s…no…it’s not that either…” Maybe I should have written her a letter, instead.

“Then what it is?” She finally let her phone down and turn to me.

“I…” I turn to see Penny, she only looks at me expectantly “I…I don’t want to lose our friendship because I wasn’t a good boyfriend. The least I can do is try to be a better friend.” I stare at my hands instead of confronting her.

I really want to fix things with Agatha. I’ve been thinking about it since last night (this morning?) talk with Baz. And Penny is right. Maybe she doesn’t love me, I can’t really blame for that. Especially if I am not sure I do either. But she’s been there, in all the missions, in all our fights for good. She doesn’t have to, she doesn’t have to be part my world. And I am no one to take that option from her.

I come back to reality as I feel her hand over mine. “It’s fine Simon.” I look up to her, she sighs and gives me a small smile, “You are right, we are friends.” I return the smile. 

Penny walks to us. “Finally done?” I nod. “No more love triangle.” She sighs relieved.

I turn fast to Agatha, she is completely tinted red. Something in my stomach sinks. “Agatha…you still want to be with Baz?”

“Simon, I don’t want to fight about this again.” Agatha gives a tired stare.

“No, it’s not that!” Impulsively I go for my phone in my pocket. “It’s just that Baz…he…” My mouth goes dry and the words get stuck in my throat. For some reason, I don’t feel I should tell them about what Baz told me.

“If you are going be like this Simon maybe we can’t make this work.” She stood up and walked pass Penny.

“He likes someone else!” She freezes and turns to me.

I look over to Penny, who shares her same confused look. “How do you know that Simon?”

“He…he told me.” Agatha rolled her eyes and left.

She didn’t believe me.

“You’ve been talking to Baz? On snapchat?” She exclaims as she looks up from my phone.

For the number of things that try to kill me on a daily bases I shouldn’t be as nervous as I feel under Penny’s stare. “Yeah…”

“You have strikes with Baz! No! You are BFF with Baz.”

I shake my head confused. “What?”

“Yeah, you have a yellow heart. It means you send the most snaps to him and he sends you the most snaps to you.” I take my phone back, and she points out the yellow heart next the flame.

Am I the person Baz sends the most snaps to? “I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t know.” She said sarcastically. “I can’t believe you two. You can’t away from each other, can’t you?”

“He is being outside at 3 am of the morning almost every day now, he has to be plotting something!”

She crosses her arms and raises her eyebrow. “And you plan to stop him from snapchat?”

“He said that too.”

Penny sighs exasperated, “Simon, don’t talk to him, you are only going to end up angry, frustrated and maybe burning Agatha’s house.” I glance Baz name on my phone when Penny’s phone rings.  After a couple of minutes of yeah’s and aha’s she outs down her phone and starts to pick her things around the living room. “I have to go, Simon, don’t talk to Baz.” She warns me and I only nod. “Love you.” She ruffles my hair and gives a smile before walking to the door.

“Love you too,” I answer before she closes the door behind her.

***

His Instagram is private. I stare at his profile picture. His profile picture is of him sitting on concrete, behind him the sunset just settled. His figure looks dark, more like a shadow. He is sitting side-wise, one of his legs is spread while he is using the other to rest his arm. He is looking into the sunset, so his face is not visible, instead, his hair falls elegantly in his shoulder.

Artistic.

I wonder who took the picture.

I’m not surprised to notice he has an extreme number of followers. Baz just seems like the person the people follow. I rest my chin on the pillow and extend my arm to keep looking at the phone from that angle. I mean just the way he enters a room makes you understand he is important and should be treated like such. Either for his last name, or for his numerous talents. Maybe not everyone knows every one of them, not like I do. Everyone knows how good he is at football, how eloquent he is at speaking and enchanting, how incredibly smart he is. But no one realizes hears him sing softly when he is focus reading or writing or heard him practice violin when he doesn’t know I’m waiting outside the door, or how he can read books faster than anyone I know (that’s something I will never tell Penny).

I don’t think no one knows that about Baz. I don’t anyone really knows something anything about Baz. Not like I do.

And maybe I don’t know about enough about Baz either.

Baz is in love.

I turn around again, but I stare at the ceiling this time. My phone was left behind.

Baz is in love with a boy.

I can hear the beating of my heart at this point.

I never thought about that. Baz has someone he cares about. Someone he misses when they are apart. Someone he loves.

I move my sight to the window, I don’t change my position. The moon is hanging in the sky, missing a piece of itself. Scatter around the stars, bright dots of incomplete drawings in the night.

They remind me of someone.

It’s almost too out of character for Baz. I can’t hear him saying, I can’t tell if how he would have said it, what face he would make. I’ve seen Baz like that. Something too hidden even for someone who lives with him. So I wonder how that looks like. Baz with a caring smile and with love in eyes instead of cold and deep greys. I wonder how it feels knowing a Baz, a vampire, a Pitch, someone above everyone else, thinks you are worth missing. I wonder how it feels to be adored by him.

I pick my phone up and unlock it. I'm sorry, Penny.

Baz I send him a picture of the window. It looks better when he takes the picture but the stars are there.

It takes him a couple a couple to open my snap, but when he does he immediately answers. What do you need Snow? It’s his fireplace, it’s on and looks like it’s out of a movie. How is his camera so good?

Why do the stars remind you of him? I take a fast photo of the ceiling, but it comes out slightly moved. I take a deep breath in an attempt to calm down my heart.

It’s his legs, partly illuminated by the fireplace. I’ve seen enough of his room to recognize he is on his sofa. Why do you care?

I stare at my phone, trying to find a reason, an excuse, anything…but I can’t, so I am honest instead. I want to understand you

Why? It’s his legs again. I don’t pay too much attention to it.

Because I thought I did. I don’t. I send him a picture of my feet at the end of the bed.

Why would you think that Snow? Why would you ever think you know anything about me but what I let you see?

And I think he is mostly right. I think he is really good hiding things. Especially about himself. Still…  I thought it was my job to. I thought that was the reason the Mage never let me change rooms, why the Crucible put us together in the first place. To understand you, to know what was going inside your head to be able to compete against you.

He shows me his bed, he is definitely in his couch. That’s why you want to know? To use it against me? That’s a little too low even for you, don’t you think Snow? I want to yell. I feel a knot in my throat and the beating of my heart is only pushing up more and more.

No, I would never involve anyone innocent into this… I don’t worry about the photo anymore.

He doesn’t seem to care either, it’s a moved photo too. He is angry, I don’t know why but I understand that if he were he would be spitting words at me. What do you think the attacks of the Humdrum are then? What do you think you expose Bunce and Wellbelove every time you go to one of your missions? You are the only reason you those dangers even exist at Watford.

My heart stops and so does my breathing. And you don’t think I bloody know that?? I send fast, then another. I do, I hate it, but I can’t leave. I could never leave Watford, Penny, or Agatha, not even you. I write as fast as my fingers allowed me to. I take another moved picture. It’s the only place I know I fit in. Or at least only place that I can come back to.  He doesn’t answer. My breathing is heavy, and my heart is pulsating so hard on my chest, I feel it might explode.

I should’ve listened to Penny. This was a bad idea. 

Baz didn’t need to know that. Why did say it? He of all people is the most interested in seeing me suffer.

I think he resembles the sky. I blink a few times before I remember what he is talking about. When I do he had already sent another one. It’s his window again. But it doesn’t have a caption. Neither it’s a picture. “Unreachable, I mean, beautiful to see impossible to touch. Only meant to be adored from the distance.” His voice is soft, a little raspy like he hasn’t talked in a long time until now and most notably sad.

The knot of my throat only intensifies, I sit up and feel the tears rush through my cheeks until they quietly disappear into the bed.

I decide to return the message and focus the camera on the window too. I start to record. I think of an answer. I laughed bitterly at my now blank thoughts, Yeah…I think I get that...