#Instead of telling people to be proud of the fact that you’re robbing them of their livelihoods

[eternally--mortal]

Facebook is full of it right now. All of my creative art communities have been doomed and overloaded with it. Lots of ignorant people are being suckered into believing it’s real photography with real models, or real outfits made from real fabric.

They’ve moved onto cakes now. I’m also waiting to see it more from the architecture groups. I don’t think these people realize the importance of structural knowledge about materials and time commitment when it comes to designing clothes and baked goods and buildings.

It’s so maddening to me. And I hate that so many people are being suckered into believing that it’s real when it seems so obviously fake to me. They’re like sleeper agents. They’re being lulled into a sense of amazement so that when they discover the truth they’ll defend it because they’ve been programmed to believe it’s a beautiful gift.

i hate when people try to defend ai art with “but i want to be able to make pretty pictures like you guys!!” ok grab a canvas go to youtube and watch bob ross. grab some pencils buy a sketchbook and a beginners drawing book and learn like the rest of us. we didn’t spend years honing our craft just so you could plug it into a machine that spits out a poor mimicry in .2 seconds so that you could feel like you made something you didn’t work for

[notstilinski]

Abbott Elementary Starters !

Taken from season two the 2022 ABC series, Abbott Elementary! Some of these have already been edited. You can change them however you see fit! There may be some light spoilers!

“I took it as an opportunity to grow. Not physically, of course, because I can’t reach the top shelves in my apartment.”

“Sea (Name) is very different than Land (Name).”

“If this is what they expect of us, it’s can’t be unrealistic.”

“Are you about to get evicted?!”

“I thought coming into work a full adult would be my solution, but I’m drowning.”

“I get it now. I’m not not a fan.”

“Then why do I have to see Chris Pratt everywhere?!”

“Oh, I don’t do that anymore. Because I’m in therapy and anger management.”

“Oh, we don’t take bribes — That aren’t in the form of money.”

“I think she’s saying I’m a broke boi.”

“(Name), I said that I don’t want to go to a strip club with you.”

“I hope all the kids aren’t here today. Yesterday, almost everybody was in attendance and it almost broke me.”

“You don’t want to be a corny legend.”

“Ya’ll gotta stop playing God with that boy’s life.”

“I’m not in the mood to improve-d at.”

“(Name) tells me I sound like a lesbian. I’m working on that.”

“And one of those is the right side, which is mine.”

“Are you two in a fight? Looks like ya’ll in a fight.”

“Poison? You know I ain’t poisoning anybody. If I’m taking someone out, I want to watch them go.”

“I’m starting to think that I didn’t grow into the person I’m proud of because of it, but maybe I did despite of it.”

“What’s that I taste? The taste of sweet victory?”

“Who does everybody get so surprised when I say I’ll help? I’m a professional.”

“You time yourself going to the second floor?”

“It don’t count if I don’t have my Fitbit on.”

“I haven’t seen you this made since the bartender cut you off at the batting cages.”

“Disguises, crime, looking hot? These are my specialities.”

“Okay, well, thank you for the donation to my mouth.”

“I’m just one of those people where chaos really affects my mood so I’m just gonna call it a day.”

“Ghost, ghouls and new friends.”

“Oh, like y’all came tell these moderately attractive white men with bears apart.”

“You truly do have the taste of a middle aged midwestern mama.”

“And now you’ve made me an accessory.”

“I Googled it. But I like to maintain that aura of dark mystery.”

“This is cutting into my pre happy hour hour.”

“All these wasted eggs when the (Name) is in town. Now I’ve got to throw a Molotov cocktail at their bus.”

“And I want to shield them with the best defense: Positivity.”

“The emergency is… I don’t feel like it right now.”

“Merry Capitalism to you all.”

“You know what? They’re a lot like paint fumes. Small doses? Fine — Even somewhat enjoyable. But too much just gives you a headache.”

“Yeah, after I introduce myself, you know. Start dating, get super clingy, abs go through his phone he might be.”

“That’s right. Now go ahead and make Juvenile proud.”

“Is that my work husband grinding on my work nemesis?”

“I’m sorry, you look like you’re in deep thought.”

“I drink a lot of Snapple so I kind of know some facts.”

“I know plenty of people who have counted me out before and, while I have absolutely no way of confirming this, I’m positive they’re all dead.”

“Sorry, so your- You dad, he hired an actor to play his child instead of just asking you?”

“Don’t look at me like that, he gave me his number.”

“I was both the hostage negotiator and the hostage.”

“Well, I’m a pacifist. You mess with me, I’ll pass a fist across your face.”

“We are watching the first Toy Story because the third one makes me cry.”

“What in the Earth, Wind and Fire is going on here?!”

“Okay. She’s robbed a child.”

“Aw. Disposable income.”

“Do you want to pinch my cheeks? My mom says it helps.”

“Well, that was before I realized that I have an insecure attachment style. I now recognize it for the disdain that it is.”

“I don’t think an adult has ever apologized to me before.”

“I will kick your (Name)-loving Valentine’s Day ass right out of this building.”

“Shame. So hot, yet so annoying.”

“I am one minor inconvenience away from putting this whole day in rice.”

“Mandates are nothing more than fervent suggestions.”

“Just because you got a round face like the Teletubbies sun baby doesn’t mean that the world revolves around you.”

“It’s cool that no matter what I do, no one is happy.”

“Let’s say that (Name) has a bubbly personality to cover up deep-seated mommy issues.”

“The silver lining about dating is that you only have to be correct about someone /once./“

“Last night, as the kids would say, was a film.”

“That is bisexual erasure. I expected better from you.”

“You’re a dork but you’re messy.”

“Weird cash floating around? Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

“Come on. Let’s go bully some sensitive artists.”

“Now you two need to get on board. Who we fighting first?”

“That’s why Mothers Day was invented. So less mothers would leave their families.”

“Don’t give Jesus my credit.”

“Nothing good has ever come from nerds whispering.”

“It’s because you abandon people, and it’s nice to finally hear you say it out loud.”

“People had hopes for you, and they gave up on me!”

“I get why you left (Name), it just kind of felt like you left me, too.”

“My night terrors have spread into day terrors. I can’t tell if I’m asleep right now or if this is some kind of waking nightmare.”

“Why can’t you ever give me credit for a good idea?”

“My lies don’t discriminate.”

“Never have I been so happy to hear such explicit content.”

“At the end of the day, they have to decide who they want to be. And this one decided to be a jackass.”

“So what you’re going to do is pick yourself up, dust yourself off, come back here tomorrow and do your job.”

“People have thrown dirt on my name, others have given flowers. It’s all a garden to me.”

“I love the company of others. But I’m trying to like my own.”

“I’m just gonna go back to avoiding her and never asking her for anything.”

“You would beat my ass, wouldn’t you?”

“The key to never getting your ass beat? Knowing when someone can beat your ass.”

“Note to self: New way to manipulate. Step one: have a daughter. Step two: Play the long game.”

“I’m a master forager. My speciality? Mushrooms.”

“I don’t know how to leave this conversation.”

“I’m counting on those tiny fists for very precise blows.”

“Yeah. I take all your recommendations seriously — I want to know why you like stuff.”

“Uh-uh. I don’t like clanks in bags. Clank-clank leads to clink-clink.”

“No wonder your dad’s a landscaper, the way you beat around the bush.”

“You need to be better at hiding things with your face.”

“Everybody I like knows it. (Name) and Diego Luna has seen my tweets.”

“If I don’t get a smooth eleven hours, I get a little handsy.”

[mishafletcher]

Are you a Gold Star lesbian? (Just in case you don't know what it means, a Gold Star lesbian is a lesbian that has never had the sex with a guy and would never have any intentions of ever doing so)

So I got this ask a while ago, and I've been lowkey thinking about it ever since.

First: No. I am a queer, cranky dyke who is too old for this sort of bullshit gatekeeping. 

Second: What an unbelievable question to ask someone you don't even know! What an incomprehensibly rude thing to ask, as if you're somehow owed information about my sexual history. You're not! No one—and I can't reiterate this enough, but no one—owes you the details of their sex lives, of their trauma, or of anything about themselves that they don't feel like sharing with you.

The clickbait mills of the internet and the purity police of social media would like nothing more than to convince everyone that you owe these things to everyone. They would like you to believe that you have to prove that you're traumatized enough to identify with this character, that you can't sell this article about campus rape without relating it to your own sexual assault, that you can't talk about queer issues without offering up a comprehensive history of your own experiences, and none of those things are true. You owe people, and especially random strangers on the internet, nothing, least of all citations to somehow prove to them that you have the right to talk about your own life.

This makes some people uncomfortable, and to be clear, I think that that's good: people who feel entitled to demand this information should be uncomfortable. Refusing to justify yourself takes power away from people who would very much like to have it, people who would like to gatekeep and dictate who is permitted to speak about what topics or like what things. You don't have to justify yourself. You don't have to explain that you like this ship because this one character reminds you a bit of yourself because you were traumatized in a vaguely similar way and now— You don't have to justify your queerness by telling people about the best friend you had when you were twelve, and how you kissed, and she laughed and said it was good practice for when she would kiss boys and your stomach twisted and your mouth tasted like bile and she was the first and last girl you kissed, but— 

You don't owe anyone these pieces of yourself. They're yours, and you can share them or not, but if someone demands that you share, they're probably not someone you should trust.

Third: The idea of gold star lesbians is a profoundly bi- and trans- phobic idea, often reducing gender to genitals and the long, shared history of queer women of all identities to a stark, artificial divide where some identities are seen as purer or more valuable than others. This is bullshit on all counts.

There's a weird and largely artificial division between bisexuals and lesbians that seems to be intensifying on tumblr, and I have to say: I hate it. Bisexual women aren't failed lesbians. They're not somehow less good or less valid because they're attracted to [checks notes] people. Do you think that having sex with a man somehow changes them? What are you so worried about it for? I've checked, and having sex with a man does not, in fact, make your vagina grow teeth or tentacles. Does that make you feel better? Why is what other people are doing so threatening to you?

Discussions of gold star lesbians are often filled with tittering about hehe penises, which is unfortunate, since I know a fair few lesbians who have penises, and even more lesbians who've had sex with people, men and women alike, who have penises. I'm sorry to report that "I'm disgusted by a standard-issue human body part" is neither a personality nor anything to be proud of. I'm a dyke and I don't especially like men, but dicks are just dicks. You don't have to be interested in them, but a lot of people have them, and it doesn't make you less of a lesbian to have sex with someone who has a dick.

There's so much garbage happening in the world—maybe you haven't noticed, but things are kind of Not Great in a lot of places, and there's a whole pandemic thing that's been sort of a major buzzkill? How is this something that you're worried about? Make a tea, remind yourself that other people's genitalia and sexual history are none of your business, maybe go watch a video about a cute animal or something. 

Fourth: The idea of gold star lesbians is a shitty premise that argues that sexuality is better if it's always been clear-cut and straightforward—but it rarely is. We live in a very, very heterosexist culture. I didn’t have a word for lesbian until many years after I knew that I was one. How can you say that you are something when your mouth can’t even make the shape of it? The person you are at 24 is different to the person you are at 14, and 34, and 74. You change. You get braver. The world gets wider. You learn to see possibilities in the shadows you used to overlook. Of course people learn more about themselves as they age.

Also, many of us, especially those of us who grew up in smaller towns, or who are over the age of, say, 25, grew up in times and places where our sexuality was literally criminal.

Shortly after I graduated high school, a gay man in my state was sentenced to six months in jail. Why? Well, he’d hit on someone, and it was a misdemeanor to "solicit homosexual or lesbian activity", which included expressing romantic or sexual interest in someone who didn’t reciprocate. You might think, then, that I am in fact quite old, but you would be mistaken. The conviction was in 1999; it was overturned in 2002.

I grew up knowing this: the wrong thing said to the wrong person would be sufficient reason to charge me with a crime.

In the United States, the Defense of Marriage Act was passed in 1996, clarifying that according to the federal government, marriage could only ever be between one man and one woman. It also promised that even if a state were to legalize same-sex unions, other states wouldn't have to recognize them if they didn't want to. And wow, they super did not want to, because between 1998 and 2012, a whopping thirty states had approved some sort of amendment banning same-sex marriage.

Every queer person who's older than about 25 watched this, knowing that this was aimed at people like them. Knowing that these votes were cast by their friends and their families and their teachers and their employers. 

Some states were worse than others. Ohio passed their bill in 2004 with 62% approval. Mississippi passed theirs the same year with 86% approval. Imagine sitting in a classroom, or at work, or in a church, or at a family dinner, and knowing that statistically, at least two out of every three people in that room felt you shouldn't be allowed to marry someone you loved.

Matthew Shepard was tortured to death in October of 1998. For being gay, for (maybe) hitting on one of the men who had planned to merely rob him. Instead, he was tortured and left to die, tied to a barbed wire fence. His murderers were both sentenced to two consecutive life terms in prison. This was controversial, because a nonzero number of people felt that Shepard had brought it upon himself.

Many of us sat at dinner tables and listened to this discussion, one that told us, over and over, that we were fundamentally wrong, fundamentally undeserving of love or sympathy or of life itself.

This is a tiny, tiny sliver of history—a staggeringly incomplete overview of what happened in the US over about ten years. Even if this tiny sliver is all that there were, looking at this, how could you blame someone for wanting to try being not Like This? How can you fault someone who had sex, maybe even had a bunch of sex, hoping desperately that maybe they could be normal enough to be loved if they just tried harder? How can you say that someone who found themself an uninteresting but inoffensive boyfriend and went on dates and had sex and said that it was fine is somehow less valuable or less queer or less of a lesbian for doing so? For many people, even now, passing as straight, as problematic as that term is, is a survival skill. How dare you imply that the things that someone did to protect themself make them worth less? They survived, and that's worth literally everything.

Fifth, finally: What is a gold star, anyhow? You've capitalized it, like it's Weighty and Important, but it's not. Gold stars were what your most generous grade school teacher put on spelling tests that you did really well on. But ultimately, gold stars are just shiny scraps of paper. They don't have any inherent value: I can buy a thousand of them for five bucks and have them at my door tomorrow. They have only the meaning that we give them, only the importance that we give them. We’re not children desperately scrabbling for a teacher’s approval anymore, though. We understand that good and bad are more of a spectrum than a binary, and that a gold star is a simplification. We understand that no number of gold stars will make us feel like we’re special enough or good enough or important enough, or fix the broken places we can still feel inside ourselves. Only we can do that.

The stars are only shiny scraps of paper. They offer us nothing; we don’t need them. I hope that someday, you see that, too. 

[nanaminokanojo]

Play the Game | Nanami Kento X You | Part 2/8

CHARACTERS: Nanami Kento X You (fem!reader | PLEASE READ THE NOTES BELOW*) | Gojo Satoru | Geto Suguru | Shoko Ieiri | Utahime Iori | other JJK Characters CHAPTER COUNT: 2/8 WORD COUNT: 4500+ GENRE: romance | fluff | slight angst | eventual smut | ooc depictions | female reader with described appearance* | modern au | rich people au | aged up characters CHAPTER TRIGGER WARNING: profanity | age gap | strong/mature/suggestive language | mentions of bullying, macabre stuff SPOILERS: n/a

collection masterlist

one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight

"Play the Game" Masterlist

The sun hasn’t even risen when Nanami came to consciousness as usual. It did not matter whether he was on vacation or working, he just automatically wakes up at the same time each and every morning without miss. It’s regardless of whether he slept enough or not. He saw no point in tarrying in bed – it was unproductive – and immediately got up without skipping a beat in his routine.

“You’re too vanilla,” he remembered you commenting when you stayed one weekend at his place in the city for an art symposium, having met him on the hallway on your way to bed after staying up all night playing video games. He just brushed your remark off with a grunt back then, but at present, he couldn’t help but muse over the fact that everything he did reminded him of you.

It was a bit light outside when he emerged from the adjoining bath of the guest room. He threw on a pair of grey sweats and a white shirt and grabbed a water bottle and a small towel on his way out of the room, mind set on going for a run. If there was something great about staying at Gojo Manor, it was the fact that it was surrounded with acres of grassland and forest with trails great for walks and jogs.

Nanami particularly grew fond of the path that led to the lake at the bottom of the hill where the mansion stood. There was a direct view of it from the balcony at the back of the structure, appearing like a jewel in the middle of the woods, and it had always been his favorite spot. The late former clan head told him it was man-made and has been there for more than a century that it became a natural feature of the estate. It was a spot in the property with a great history and great value to the clan, thus his gravitation towards it.

It’s her favorite place in the whole estate, too, he thought indulgently.

Inhaling deeply, he set out to the back doors that led to the patio and the walled gardens, starting in a slow jog before building his momentum as he reached open grounds.

And thus, his day began as such.

He came back from his run when it was already too hot, heaving deep breaths and desperate for a shower as his white shirt and grey sweats stuck to his body, drenched in sweat. His leg muscles ached, but it had been a good run.

Greetings from the staff met him as he reentered the manor which he returned with polite nods. He was headed to the stairs when he passed by the breakfast room and happened to hear Gojo talking to you. It went against his principles to eavesdrop in an evidently private conversation but he stayed rooted on his spot upon hearing you speak.

Despite your seeming foul temper upon leaving him the previous night, you seemed to have bounced back to your usual self, your tone sounding more jovial than usual. Your words were at odds to your tone as you told Gojo not to piss you off so early in the morning.

"Are you sure there's nothing going on between you and Kento?" Gojo asked just as the person in question was about to pass the doorway.

"It's really none of your business," you responded, voice devoid of any emotions. He did it, Gojo. He finally fouled up your mood.

"But I'm your brother!" Gojo protested, acting all dumb around you again. He just had that complex where you were concerned. He has always been very soft on you yet he was also fiercely protective. You hated his attention though. Yours was a strange dynamic.

"Worry about your wedding, will you? Geez. Don’t you have a luncheon to host?"

"Why did you kiss him then? On the mouth no less!"

Nanami’s heart skipped a beat, anticipation rising like cold water from his toes going up his chest. He wanted to hear what you had to say. Fuck principles. He needed his answers, too. It did not matter in what way he was getting them at that rate. He was secretly hoping you will say something a little bit more revealing about what goes inside your head given that he cannot just pry inside it even if he wanted to.

"Because I wanted to." You stated it so matter-of-factly that Gojo was at a loss for words for a moment. “Didn’t you hear me? I was dying to do that since he arrived.”

“You’re not serious, are you?”

“You tell me.” That’s becoming your signature line. “You won’t understand unless you kiss, Nanamin, too,” the tenor of your words turning fanciful. “He has such an alluring taste to him.”

What is this woman on about?

“Oh, god, stop it!”

"You should have seen the looks on your faces though. I was half expecting your eyeballs to roll on the floor. Wouldn’t that have been grand? It’s definitely shocking but a good subject for art if not a medium." At that, you laughed, the sound hitting Nanami like tinkling bells. It was such a happy sound that reminded him of better days although the thought that prompted it was utterly macabre. “Maybe that should inspire my next work. It would be like Munch’s The Scream, the next of its kind.”

"Hmm. Good point…” Gojo mumbled, sidetracked, obviously sharing your sentiments on the idea of such grotesqueness, but regained his composure just as quickly. “It's not funny!"

"But it is." Your laughter subsided as quickly as it erupted from your throat as if it wasn't even there to begin with. Your capricious nature was surfacing once more, and if there was something that was more frightening than your strong, habitual liking for trifling with people, it was that. "So what if I have other intentions behind it? Are you gonna get mad at me or something?”

"Well, do you?!" Gojo sounded like a manatee on the throes of death.

“But what are you going to do, brother? Stop me perhaps?"

He of all people should know just how unstoppable you were when you have set yourself into doing something. “N-no –”

“And what if Nanamin has the same intentions? What will you do then?”

“Hey, that’s enough of you. I know you’re trying to trap me into saying something again.” He clucked his tongue. “I seem to be the only one who isn’t in on your games, and if it is one, I have to know. You’re just way too outrageous these days that I cannot tell what’s serious and what’s not anymore.”

Gojo took a deep breath, sounding distressed as he exhaled. “Is there something else going on?”

"Maybe,” you answered noncommittally.

"That's not an answer at all!" he snapped.

You clucked your tongue, sounding irritated. "Stop screaming, Satoru."

"Do you like him?"

“Is your emphasis on that word supposed to change its meaning?”

If Nanami’s heart was skipping earlier, it has now stopped completely, robbing him of air as it seemed to have affected his lungs, too. You were maddening, not only to Gojo but to him as well. It was evident that you were in your gaming mood again, and although you were only intentionally riling your brother, he was also directly in your line of assault.

Gojo sighed in defeat, mirroring Nanami’s feelings. “Y/N, please, just answer the question,” he whined.

“I guess.” There was a pause then you said, "I mean, what's not to like?"

"What?!"

“Like it or not, Nanamin is a very excellent specimen of the male populace. He’s fucking irresistible and that’s an understatement.” You scoffed. "Even you like him."

Your voice was followed by your footsteps as you neared the door. In a daze at your vocal expression of how you find him physically attractive, instead of backtracking, Nanami stepped forward and collided with your form, nearly knocking you off your feet. He was after all twice your size and a good foot taller than you.

"Careful," he said between deep breaths, one arm securing you by the waist while his other arm gripped onto the door jamb, the position making the veins and sinews of his arm rather pronounced.

“Speak of the devil…” You straightened up, not making any effort to hide the fact that you were checking him out. Your head turned towards the direction of the breakfast room, making him mimic the action only to see Gojo standing slack-jawed, watching what was unfolding before him with eyes wide with shock. Nanami could've sworn his best friend just went into a state of catatonia.

"Didn't see you there," you said, addressing Nanami, your blue eyes assessing him as if in suspicion.

"I'm sorry," he muttered under his breath, feeling the tips of his ears heating up. Before you could notice, he stepped aside, heading towards the direction of the stairs.

"Hey, Nanamin," you suddenly called, making him halt and turn his head to your direction. You were smirking at the direction of your brother as you said, "Nice ass."

He shook his head. It was really just a ploy to get to Gojo’s nerves, and he was your pawn.

**

The sound of graphite scratching on paper like a harsh slash of sword punctuated the impending absence of thought in your mind. Nothing mattered but the sight of your hand gripping a pencil as it created unintelligible strokes on the plain page of the sketchbook on your lap. It progressed to furious scribbling, your movements becoming faster, the sound dominating your corner of the room. Everything has been drowned out – the endless chattering, the sound of porcelain and silverware hitting each other in chaotic cacophony – heightening in a painful crescendo of auditory abomination and dying in the air, overwhelmed by the picture you were creating on the blank expanse of space.

“You must be so proud of your daughter.”

Scratch.

“Who wouldn’t be? It must be great to have geniuses for children”

Scratch.

“She’s just as famous as Satoru.”

Scratch.

Just like that, they didn't exist. The room was empty save for you and the view outside the window coming to life on paper. Your eyes darted from your sketch to the familiar yet equally exhilarating view just outside the parlor. Gojo was animatedly talking about something, easily excitable as always. His fiancée laughed on the side while Nanami was witheringly eyeing him, stoic as always. Shoko, who arrived the previous evening, also joined the group. All that was missing was Geto. You wondered if you should draw him somewhere in the sketch.

The image before you reminded you of those days when reality seemed far away, back when Gojo was still a student, exceptional as always but still young, not the renowned genius tycoon he was at present. His friends would always be around him, lounging around the manor like they hadn't a care in the world.

His crowd grew in number with Geto and Nanami being the two closest pals he had. Shoko joined in shortly in middle school. On the other hand, Utahime came during his university days, also starting off as Gojo’s friend and eventually becoming his girlfriend. Now they were about to get married and it seemed to punctuate all the changes that came with being the grown-ups that they are.

It scared you.

Fact is, growing up and growing old and the changes that come with it was terrifying. Even if you yourself were already twenty four, seemingly had your life together and appearing to have matured without a hitch, that wasn’t the case at all. Genius or not, your brother also had his issues even while he was rising to his current position in society.

The problem was within you, you knew it. That and the fact that you did not really know what growing means. Your work grew, matured like crazy. You didn’t think you yourself grew, stuck in those days when everything was relatively easier. At least then, you only had to worry about your classmates hating on you. Now a part of the public did.

Looking at Gojo and his gang, they’ve all handled that well, making you wonder how they did it. He is one of the youngest CEOs in the country, having built his business empire at just seventeen. Your future sister-in-law is a professor, Geto is a sought-after model and Shoko is a forensic pathologist. They were all great at what they did, struggled as well, but came out with perfect grace.

However, you think the best one out of them was none other than the object of your pining – Nanami Kento. The man made transitioning to adulthood look rather easy. Maybe it was because he had always been mature and held himself in perfect equilibrium. Sure, he was no Gojo Satoru, but he was innately intelligent and became one of the youngest barristers who held the position of a famous attorney’s partner. He handled controversial cases and is one of the best prosecutors in the country with a high winning percentage. His work aside, he seemed to have the least struggle out of everyone.

Your lips curled up at the corners at the thought of the man. Your gaze flicked to him from the sketchbook, sitting there with a beverage in his hand, the noon sun glimmering on his hair and the planes of his face, looking more laid back without a blazer on. He was dressed rather casually in a pair of khaki trousers and dusty blue button-ups, but he still looked smart. He always dressed that way which you found very attractive although seeing him in more casual clothes like that morning was another level of hot altogether. He’s quite a bit formal, making him seem monotonous, but it’s that consistency that you liked about him. It was only a bonus that he was devastatingly handsome with those sharp features and the suits made him look so sexy in that it left everything about his real physique to imagination.

One just could not get enough of him, at least you couldn’t, but you did see how his partner’s paralegal eyeballed him all the time. (You secretly wanted to gouge her eyes out.) That’s the kind of man Nanami was. He doesn’t speak much, but when he does, it leaves profound dents to one’s psyche. And man, was he hot in court! He’s fucking sarcastic when he wants to be, to the point of being vile, but one just can’t get offended with the kind of logic he has. Once he speaks his mind, one wishes he wouldn’t stop, but he does and leaves that person craving more, his hypnotic, deep voice a rare treat. He wasn’t big on actions, wasn’t expressive, but when he does something, it’s always with purpose and precision, never over the top and always with disciplined stoicism.

You chuckled quietly, your pencil drawing perfect strokes of his hair when you were pulled out of your trance.

“Yuuji!” you heard Gojo say, pulling your attention to the direction of the window.

You broke into a grin at the mention of the name, hurriedly getting on your feet and running out of the room, deaf to your mother’s protests against your unladylike behavior – the commotion foreign to the ladies in the room who moved with the minutest rustles. You made your way out to the patio, that familiar tuft of pink hair coming into your line of vision. You sprinted through the glass doors towards the person whose name your brother called, smile wide and genuine.

“You kept me waiting long enough,” you called out, voice louder than usual. You’re hardly ever giddy nor were you easily excitable like your brother, but Itadori Yuuji was a different story altogether. You loved the boy with a fierceness akin to a mother and were always ecstatic to be around him but suppressed it by acting gruff. You were crazy like that.

“That’s because you won’t help me with my final requirements,” he retorted good-naturedly, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and nuzzling the back of your head as if you were a fuzzy plush toy, making you drop your drawing implements. Well, you were considerably smaller than him, and he was probably the only one who could do that to you and get away unscathed.

You rolled your eyes, noticing how Gojo had picked up your stuff, looking at the page where it was opened. “You should exert yourself more. You’re no genius after all.”

“That’s mean!”

You smirked at him, your eyes straying to your brother who was smiling at your drawing. He had such a proud, fond look on his face that you couldn’t do anything but stare. He has always been ever since you first held crayons and drew him as a cat. “You even included Suguru,” he cooed, pointing at the missing person you included then proceeding to show it off to his friends. “Guys, look. My baby sister drew us.”

“Surprise, surprise,” you sallied, but you were happy that he’s always showing you off.

Utahime and Shoko stood beside him, also looking at the sketch. The latter raised a thumb at your direction. “Damn, kid. You’re really great at what you do. How do you make things come alive with just a pencil?”

You smiled awkwardly. “I –”

“Give it here,” Nanami suddenly butted in, hand reaching for the sketchpad which Gojo promptly handed him.

You felt Yuuji elbowing you while you stood there, observing the man who was in possession of your drawing.

Nanami blinked then, handing it back to you. “How come I don’t have a face?” he asked, expression expectant of your response.

Annoyed, you snatched it back from him.

“It’s obviously not finished yet,” Shoko commented, but she couldn’t have been more wrong.

It was not that you cannot, but you would never draw his face. Ever. You tried tons of times if the tens of pages of sketchpads at your apartment filled with different angles and parts of him would be a basis for that. You could draw everything else about him, just not his face. No amount of contemplation and practice helped you to know why, but you attributed it to the fact that you could not do his face justice, at least in the sense that you would not be able to bring it to life as Shoko said.

Finally, you said, “I didn’t feel like drawing your face.” You turned away, dragging Yuuji with you. The boy was still giggling like a hyena until you got to the second-floor balcony where you propped yourself up on the balustrade, looking sulky.

"You might fall there, you know," he commented, jumping up the marble balustrade to join you.

"I can say the same for you," came your quiet reply. "Where's Megumi?"

“He’ll be here before lunch.” Yuuji leaned close to you with a mischievous grin on his face. “What, or rather who, is that look on your face for?”

"I think you know the answer to that."

"Did you tell Nanamin?" He addressed the man just as you did and got away with it, too, for some reason.

"Tell him what?"

He scoffed playfully. "Are you seriously playing this game with me? I'm your best buddy. I know everything."

"As irritating as that is, it's true."

Yuuji pouted at you. "I heard what you did yesterday. Why do you have to make games out of everything?"

"That's how I communicate. I thought you knew everything."

Harsh as always, he thought. "Be a normal person for once and just tell him." His brows knit together. "Well, you're anything but normal," he mused aloud. “I meant that nicely.”

You blew a raspberry. "You're just as normal as I am if you claim to be my best friend. Which you are. No take backs."

Yuuji couldn't help but smile at that. You have always been a loner and you did not mind being alone. He was grateful you wanted him around despite that.

"But you should stop doing this. He wants you. It's obvious."

"It's not that simple."

"What isn't simple? If it's Satoru, he'll understand for sure if you just try to be honest. I'm sure he just isn't for it more because he doesn't know how you feel. I mean, if I were him, I'll also protect my baby sister from my male friends. That's just how it is."

You blinked, pivoting your whole body so you were facing him.

"Well, of course, Nanamin needs to fight for it, too," he was quick to throw in, rambling to himself when he suddenly felt you reach out towards him, gently running your fingers through his pink hair. He leaned towards your touch, smiling contentedly.

"Don't worry about me. I'm fine."

"I'm not –"

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Are you seriously playing this game with me?" you asked, mimicking his words earlier. "I'm your best buddy. I know everything, one of them being the fact that you worry worse than my mother."

Yuuji jumped off the balustrade, reaching out to grab you in a bear hug despite your protestations. Just like how you were with everyone else, you shunned his affection, but he knew better than to let go when you were saying exactly that. He found that trait of yours adorable.

"You're so irritating," you hissed, flipping your platinum white hair over your shoulder when you finally managed to get off his grip but he wrapped an arm over your shoulder nonetheless, undeterred by your words.

"You know you love me."

"Shut up."

Yuuji pouted. "You sound like Megumi."

"I heard that," the person in question suddenly spoke from the direction of the entry, his deep voice making you and Yuuji turn towards him. "They're calling everyone for lunch."

Yuuji followed behind as you approached Megumi, also one of your closest friends and practically your brother, keeping you in check more than Gojo ever can.

"Guess what," Megumi said to you as you walked beside him. In one of the rare moments you would see it, he grinned and you knew it wasn't because of anything good.

"What?" you and Yuuji, who thought the same by the look on his face, chorused.

"Nobara switched your name card with Miwa's. You're now seated next to your man candy. You're welcome."

“Isn’t that more of a perk for Miwa? She’s scared shitless of Nanamin, you know.”

The three of you laughed while Yuuji could just shake his head at the inescapable trouble that will follow. His only consolation was that it’s fun when it involves you.

**

What were the odds, Nanami thought to himself. He didn't have to look twice to see whose name it was on the card on the spot next to him. He exhaled loudly, unfolding the napkin and placing it on his lap. This could only lead to hullabaloo he was not exactly in the mood to deal with especially after you just told him you did not feel like drawing his face. You sure were mean when you wanted to be.

He surveyed his vicinity. Your father, the current head of the clan from whence your blue eyes came from, was seated at the head of the table, your mother to his right, while Utahime’s parents sat to his left. It seemed to have been the only formalities observed in the arrangement. From across Nanami sat Utahime and Gojo while on his right were a couple he only knew as cousins to the Gojo main family.

He was internally pinching the bridge of his nose. You really had to be the one seated next to him and right across your annoying brother, too.

The luncheon started without you. It wasn't a formal gathering after all except they were serving a full-course meal. It was more of a way to get everyone to know one another over the week for some reason he cannot fathom, and he was glad that only your father was the one who had engaged him in a conversation, mostly about work. It was easy enough to deal with.

"Where are Y/N and her friends?" your mother asked Gojo out of the blue.

Utahime, answering for the clueless person beside her, pointed towards the direction of the door to the banquet hall where you were leisurely walking towards your designated seat with Yuuji and Megumi. The former rounded the table to sit next to Gojo.

"Still managing to be late even when you're already at the venue, baby sis?" Nanami heard Gojo say as you assumed your seat. It was evident in the way his eyes shifted from Nanami to you that your tardiness wasn't exactly the problem.

You blatantly ignored his comment and turned your attention to Nanami. "Had a good run this morning, Nanamin?"

"Just so," he answered, side-glancing at you.

"Yeah. You looked super hot this morning," you said just as Gojo was taking a sip from his wine glass.

Megumi snorted when the older male started choking on his drink while Yuuji was trying hard not to laugh.

Nanami knew he would have reacted the same way except that he had been bracing himself for whatever you will say the moment Gojo opened his mouth. Of course you will use him in your counter attack. It's yet another game, not that he was less affected by your words.

"You should have seen him, Iori," you continued, addressing your brother's fiancée. "He looks so much less uptight in casual clothes."

It didn't escape Nanami’s notice how Gojo was looking at him. He looked about ready to drop onto the floor, but paid him no mind as he leveled his mouth to your ear. "Y/N, let's not make your dear brother snap, shall we?"

"Oh, sweetheart, maybe that's what he needs right now," you deadpanned, meeting his gaze squarely, your disposition unreadable as you let your eyes linger on him longer than was deemed appropriate.

Yuuji finally laughed, earning him a kick to the shins under the table courtesy of Megumi.

What it was about you that made everything else irrelevant and nonexistent when you’re that close to him was something beyond him. You always made him lose control, tempted him to break the rules. He only knew he couldn't act on it. Most of the time anyway. He also felt like laughing, oddly enough.

Utahime just chuckled good-naturedly breaking the tension. "Since the two of you are here, I should tell you that the final fitting for your clothes for the wedding is this afternoon. So, you better go together at the shop."

"Traitor." Gojo pouted at Utahime but nobody was really paying attention to him anymore. For someone so important to society with a flawless image, the closest people around him sure were good at disregarding him when they deemed it fit.

"Okay," Nanami said, looking at you for confirmation.

It was you who looked away this time. "I'm free."

"That's set then." Utahime clapped her hands and to Nanami she cheekily said, "Maybe wear something less formal."

At that, you grinned wickedly at him. So much for avoiding trouble with you.

-end of part 2-

*I used “you” here, but since my character is Gojo’s little sister who is established to be his female clone for reasons essential to the plot, she possesses the same blue eyes and white hair. I did not exactly want to create an OC (although technically, I did by describing Y/N), but I opted for the best of both worlds in this fic, leaning more towards the literary aspect of it as opposed to it just being reader/you-oriented. I hope this isn’t iffy to anyone, and yeah, i’m not being exclusive or whatever.

If you want to be included in the tag list, please DM me :)

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it.

© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI'S JUJUTSU KAISEN. [20210709] PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART SOURCES CREDITS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

[tlcwrites]

Two Hearts Make a Whole

Prompt: “Kiss me again, like you mean it.” Photo prompt below.

Summary: NYC Pride is for celebration, and occasionally, long-overdue revelations.

Word Count: 2,001

Tags/Content warnings: Marvel. Stucky. If you have a problem with it, there's the door. SFW. Slight TFATWS spoilers so read at your own risk. Platonic Reader. Two idiots in love. Technically canon-divergent because I'm still in my everyone-is-alive-and-in-this-timeline happy place that I will never ever leave fuck you very much Russo brothers but not AU. Found family. All the feels. Complete and total LGBTQ+ support. Lots of bad language words because #me. Un-beta'd.

Author’s Note: Okay so yes this is technically 4 weeks late for @autumnleaves1991-blog's Writer Wednesday weekly challenge. BUT, it was incredibly important to me to finish this one before Pride month is over. Made it by the skin of my teeth.

Happy Pride, y’all. If you’re out, you’re amazing. If you’re closeted, you’re amazing. However you identify is valid and important. Trans folx are LGBTQ+. Bisexuals are LGBTQ+. Ace folx are LGBTQ+. Anyone who identifies or thinks they may be as queer is LGBTQ+. All are welcome in the family. You have the right to choose your pronouns and we have the responsibility to use them. Live whatever your truth looks like to you and love each other. Love is love is love is love. If your family doesn’t accept you for you, I’m your mom now and I’ve got mom hugs available on demand. Homophobes and TERFS can fuck off and roll in poison ivy. Always punch Nazis. Pride shouldn't be limited to the month of June. And don’t you dare forget that Black and Brown trans women were the ones who rioted at Stonewall, and we owe everything to their bravery. Don’t forget that much of popular ‘gay’ culture was appropriated from Black women. And for more facts about Pride that you should absolutely know, Rawiyah Tariq (@ mammyisdead on Instagram) has a phenomenally good overview.

“Oh my god.” You gasp loudly. "Oh my GOD. Is that-"

“What?!” Instantly in First Avenger Protective Mode™️, Steve surveys the crowd, wishing he had an actual shield instead of the screen printed one on his shirt. “What is it?”

You gasp again, smacking Sam’s arm repeatedly. “OHMYGOD IT IS HOLY FUCK.”

“First; ow.” Now-Cap rubs his bicep. “Second; clue in the class before Steve has an aneurysm, please.”

Vibrating with excitement doesn’t begin to describe your current state. “HER ROYAL HIGHNESS MISS LEMON MERINGUE IS STANDING RIGHT FUCKING THERE.”

With the finesse of a shampoo commercial, Bucky's dark locks fly as he whips around. “What?!”

“RIGHT THERE RIGHT THERE RIGHT THERE.” You abandon a relieved Sam and latch on to Bucky’s vibranium arm. “Oh my GOD I love her so fucking much.”

“She was robbed, absolutely fucking robbed,” he agrees, craning his neck to get a better view. “Divine Tension’s lip sync was shameful.”

Sam glances at Steve, who is slowly coming out of protector mode. “What the ever-loving hell are they talking about?”

“RuPaul’s Drag Race.” Nat flicks more confetti at both Cap-the-former and Cap-the-current. “They watch it every week.”

“Really, Steven, for a guy with enhanced super senses, you miss a lot.” Tony hefts a bedazzled Morgan higher on his back. The toddler, accompanied by Scott playing air-piano on the ground, sings along with the ABBA song being blasted at full volume through the street. Tony continues as if this is an everyday occurrence. “Why do you think both of your People disappear every Friday evening?”

Ears pink, Steve mumbles something.

“What?!” The only other one with hearing enhanced enough to hear a murmur over the cacophony of several thousand people belting out the chorus of ‘Dancing Queen’ at the top of their lungs, Bucky turns to stare at his friend. “You thought we were datin’?”

Steve’s blush extends down his neck.

You and Bucky stare at each other for a moment before you both collapse on each other, exploding into stomach clenching, thigh slapping laughter.

“I’m gonna guess that’s a ‘no’?” Clint confirms with Nat.

“Oh, a big ‘no’.” She watches affectionately as you and Bucky calm down enough to look at each other, breathe for a second, and both promptly dissolve into hysterics once more. “Like, the biggest ‘no’.”

Sam crossed his arms across his chest, his stoic stance so reminiscent of Steve it’s amusing (as well as a beautiful disparity to the sequined crop top he’s sporting. Oof, those abs.). “How do I not know about this?”

“Because you’re not a former super spy?” The usually-Black-but-today-Rainbow Widow tosses the last of her confetti at Tony, who spins a jubilant Morgan into it. “Or because you and that leggy barista from the lobby coffee shop are too busy playing hide-the-“

“-Baby Shark!” Morgan suddenly shrieks, flailing towards a guy on roller blades wearing a fin and tail (and not much else).

“Yeah,�� Nat finishes with a smirk, “Hide-the-Baby Shark.”

Sam flips her a gesture that makes Clint laugh and Bruce sigh.

You and Bucky have finally managed to pull yourselves together. “Oh my god, Steven Grant,” you gasp, wiping tears from your eyes. “That’s the funniest fucking shit I’ve ever fucking heard.”

“Language!”

Steve glares at Tony. “One. Time. It was one. Time.”

Bucky slings his flesh arm around Steve’s shoulders. “Oh, punk. You may have perfect vision now, but sometimes you’re still as blind as you were before.”

Visiortn himself nods sagely. “Humans can be quite unperceptive when it comes to matters of the heart.” Vision casts a fond smile at Wanda, who is using her powers to make Pietro’s tinsel wig fly on and off. “Sometimes you have to look harder to see what’s right in front of your nose.”

A confused frown on that handsome face, Captain Clueless looks at Bucky. “Why do I feel like everyone else knows something that I don’t?”

His bestie sighs deeply. “Because, Stevie, almost everyone else on this planet knows that my tastes tend towards tall, blonde, blue-eyed knuckleheads who have zero sense of self-preservation.”

“And an ass you could bounce a quarter off of,” Scott helpfully supplies.

“And that,” Bucky agrees.

Steve frowns.

You press your palms to your eyes in vexation. “You, Steve. He’s talking about you.” (Seriously, how has this idiot survived for over a century while being so dumb?)

Whatever he was expecting, it was certainly not that. “He-“ The Man With A Plan gapes as he turns to his oldest friend. “You-“

“Me,” Bucky says gently.

Even though you’re slightly surprised that Bucky is going to do this in such a public forum, you can’t help but be so proud of your friend. It has taken a long time for Bucky to believe he deserves to be happy. There are days he still sinks into that dark place, where his inner demons whisper that he should have fought harder against his Hydra captors, and that his past actions were still somehow his fault. Those are the days no amount of baking or Modern Marvels will bring him out of his funk. You, Steve, Sam, and Nat have all held those strong shoulders as they shook with sobs, overwhelmed by the shame and horror at what his hands had done without his consent.

But he’s here. He’s free. And he’s smiling nervously at his best friend.

“I-” Steve is short-circuiting. “Me?!”

“Stevie.” With the kind of tender patience that can only be born of a lifetime of keeping (or attempting to keep) an idiot such as one Steven Grant Rogers from flinging himself headlong into every fight he comes across, Bucky moves his flesh hand to the back of Steve’s neck. His face is full of such soft affection that you almost want to look away for fear of intruding on this suddenly intimate moment. “What do you think ‘til the end of the line’ means, you idiot? You’ve been it for me since I was thirteen-years-old.”

Blue eyes are locked with blue eyes as Steve processes this revelation. “I-” He shakes his head as if to declutter his thoughts. “This whole time?”

“Since the first time I saw that asshole knock you down, and your scrawny ass climbed right back up.” A wry chuckle escapes as Bucky reminices. “You were ninety pounds soaking wet, and you stood there, against a guy who was three times your size, and never waivered for a second. It was magnificent.”

“I don’t like bullies,” is Steve’s quiet response.

Bucky’s grin is adoring. “I know, sweetheart.” He gently strokes the back of Steve’s neck with his thumb. “You’ve always had a heart way bigger than your brain.”

Steve is still back on the first part of Bucky’s admission. “If you’ve felt- if you-” He’s practically pleading. “Why didn’t you say anything then?”

Bucky shrugs, attempting and failing nonchalance. “It was a different time, you know?” He’s uncharacteristically unsure of himself, the subtle waiver in his voice revealing the anxiety born of a lifetime of being forced to hide his truth. “I mean, you remember how it was; you didn’t talk about, no one talked about- about being- about people like...” He swallows thickly.  “And I was so scared you didn’t, that you weren’t-” His voice breaks.

Even though you’ve all been emotionally invested in this love story for years, the entire team respectfully pretends not to listen as the former Winter Soldier quietly admits his deepest secret to his closest friend. It’s enraging as Bucky confesses yet another way he's been a victim of his circumstances, and denied his right to live freely without derision. Once more, you’re awed by his resilience.

“-it was a risk I couldn’t take,” Bucky finally gets out, that stubborn fire back in his eyes. “I couldn’t lose you, Steve. I couldn’t chance it. I could live with just being your friend and only your friend so long it meant you were in my life.”

Stunned silence meets the end of his confession. Steve’s face is impassive, those cerulean eyes uncharacteristically inscrutable.

You can all tell Bucky is heading steadily towards dread and heartbreak the longer Steve takes to respond. You and Sam exchange a look, both ready to intervene if Steve demonstrates any of the abhorrent attitudes that were so prevalent in the society of his youth. It would be completely out of character for him, but...

Finally, Steve speaks. “You’re telling me,” he says, his words slow and deliberate, “that you made me wait ninety-three years to tell me you’ve felt the same way about me as I have about you since the day you picked me up out of that alley?!”

The whole found family breaths a collective sigh of relief as Steve pulls Bucky even closer, broad chest to broad chest.

“Okay, to be fair, you were an ice cube for most of that time and I wasn’t exactly available for a relationship.” Bucky’s grin stands in contradiction to his mullish defense. “But yeah, that’s the gist of it.” There’s the Bucky you all know and love, biting his lip with those perfect white teeth. “Now, punk, I’d really like to kiss you now, but first I need you to say you want me to.”

“You-” Steve’s throat works as he attempts- and fails- to rein in his emotions. “You jerk.”

And then the Star Spangled Man seizes the president of the Sometimes-Former-Assassins Club by his ridiculously perfect face and crashes their mouths together.

At any Pride event, seeing two men kissing is, obviously, to be expected. But seeing The First Avenger and The White Wolf attempting to swallow each other’s tongues is not at all routine. As people realize what is happening, the crowd is whipped into a frenzy the likes of which is usually reserved for the aftermath of sporting events and elections that defeat fascists.

Watching the two men embrace, Scott sniffles loudly. “I’m gonna cry, I’m so happy.”

He’s certainly not the only one. Wanda has a watery smile as she wraps her arms around Vision and Pietro; Pepper, Tony, and Bruce are watching with fond parental energy; you and Sam sandwich Peter between the two of you, grins practically splitting your faces. Even Nat’s eyes look suspiciously shiny and she and Clint sling their arms around each other with platonic affection. And that’s not counting the several thousand people who are cheering for love being love being love being love.

When they finally break their embrace, the Centennial twins are startled to see they’ve collected quite an audience.

“Uh, so…” Suddenly bashful, Steve glances back to his- partner? Boyfriend? Soulmate? Is there a word that can accurately describe two people who have found each other time and again in a world that seems hell-bent on keeping them apart?- his ears practically maroon with embarrassment. For a guy with one of the most-recognized faces in the world, Steve is still incredibly and endearingly uncomfortable with attention. “Buck?”

Bucky seems just as stunned as Steve.

Thankfully, the masses demonstrate the usual support that’s the hallmark of Pride. “LOVE IS LOVE!” someone screams in the crowd. It’s quickly echoed, and chants fill the park.

The attention momentarily off them, the former Winter Soldier and his giant himbo of a soulmate look back at each other. You pretend not to watch through the happiest tears as they embrace again, bringing their foreheads together. The relief they share is palpable, as they’re finally able to show the world- and each other- the love they’ve each hidden for so long.

Bucky’s voice is so soft you have to strain to hear it. “You have no idea how much m’in love with you, Stevie.”

“Pretty sure I do,” Steve answers, bringing a hand up to carefully wipe the tears from Bucky’s face. “‘cause it’s as much as I love you, Buck.”

Bucky's answering grin can only be described as saucy. “Then kiss me again, like you mean it.”

And Steve, for once in his long life, does exactly as ordered.

---

A/N: “The Sometimes-Former-Assassins Club” is from Starry_Emerald173’s BRILLIANT The Avengers Wrangler over on AO3. If you haven’t read it yet, drop what you’re doing and do so immediately. Make sure you're not drinking any liquids, or your keyboard/phone may be in peril.

[obeymeluv]

Random Headcanons for the Bros (SFW + NSFW)

I’m bored and was thinking about the more ‘demon’ noises they’d make. It turned into a bunch of random headcanons (SFW + NSFW).

Enjoy!

These got really long so I skipped Belphie for now. I was getting sleepy and I need more time to think up some headcanons for him.

I think I caught all the spelling errors but I’m not sure. Super sleepy...

Lucifer

His ‘angry’ demon noise sounds a lot like the ones koalas make. It’s not an especially deep or rugged noise, like a lion, but this simmering mess of hisses and clicks with a bit of air in it.

Tends to keep his mouth closed and tongue fluffed when making the noise so it sounds more subdued/reptilian

Lucifer’s horns are very sensitive. Mammon found that out at an early age. His beloved could use this to their advantage, but it does bring the teeth.

Would deny to his last breath that he likes head massages or temple rubs. If you can manage, give the guy a shoulder rub and he’s putty in your hands. Won’t even speak. Might make a clicky purr sound though.

When he doesn’t want you to leave or could really use another minute with head scratches, his tail will wrap around your wrist and hold it in place.

When you share a bed, he’s not a snuggler. Lucifer’s the type to be content knowing you’re in the same space. He moves in his sleep, though, so you always end up a little spoon

Asmo says he has a size kink, but he’s not sure. Lucifer will begrudgingly admit he likes power dynamics. There’s something thrilling about grabbing you by the throat, as delicate as you are, but being so gentle with you.

He’s not the most aggressive biter in bed, but he will use his teeth and claws for the sensation. Lucifer’s big on anticipation and overstimulation

Weak for neck kisses, especially at his pulse. Attack! He WILL get even though, so beware.

Doesn’t openly think he has any clothing-related kinks, but he’ll stare a bit longer if you dress up in red or black.

Would never do it in front of his brothers because of the teasing, but very much the ‘come sit in my lap’ type.

His pride won’t let him allow any public fun times, not even the fear of getting caught, but he does get off on flustering you and watching you pull yourself back together before anyone catches on

The ‘lots of strong, long kisses’ kind of guy. Not big on French kissing unless he has time to indulge and knows he won’t be interrupted

Runs very hot when he sleeps. He prefers to be shirtless so cold sheets take the edge off.

You’ll come before he does. It’s a matter of pride, after all.

His love language is helping you get organized (if you’re not), and tracking down resources to things you’re interested in because that’s within his skill set. Also good at creating absolute silence for you if you have a migraine.

If Lucifer makes a pact with you, it’ll be around your heart because it takes a lot of self-sacrifice to do. He’s TRUSTING you.

Mammon

Mammon sounds like an angry tortoise when he’s woken up too early, when he’s embarrassed (or in denial), or telling one of his little brothers to shut up without saying it

I head cannon that he actually needs the glasses he wears. Or that he has contacts and just wanted yellow frames because yellow is the color of Grimm

It crossed my mind that he might wear them just so he can see everything as golden and beautiful because he remembers the Celestial Realms and misses it

He says he stays with you because Lucifer assigned him, but once you connect with him on ANY level (say something nice, defend him, just give him attention instead of suspicion), he’s 100% whipped. Wants to be with you all the time and chase that feeling you give him. He needs more of it. Has to have it!

Mammon’s a sucker for getting his hair played with. Run your fingers through it, play with the ends, and you could probably rob him blind

Will also pester you for back massages because he jacks up his back running from Lucifer all the time (and trying to run off with heavy shit to pawn)

Is really good with math, has bad impulse control, and gets very distractable. Would probably surprise a few of his brothers with his math mark is and the fact that he could tutor if he stays in the right mindset. 

He’s the sloppy/needy kisser that has to be as close as he can. He’ll end up between your thighs and somehow surround you.

Big on little butterfly kisses.

He’s not a full-on biter, but he’s a nibbler. He’s a hickey expert and he wants them to be seen.

Actually super easy to turn on. If you take his glasses off and get close enough to see him, he’s hard because you rubbed up on him coming into view. Also: praise him. IT WORKS!

The Avatar of Greed probably has a breeding kink. Just saying.

Might complain about it, but he’ll give you piggyback rides and carry you if you ask. Literally, all you have to do is ask.

You can’t do the whole ‘laying in nothing but my earrings’ because he’ll either take your earrings out before sex to look at them (very much an ‘oh, shiny!’ person), teeth them during sex and break them, or he’ll think you look so good he’ll want to pile on ALL the jewelry.

Steal his clothes to wear them? He’ll lowkey cry. YOU LOOK SO CUTE, ALMOST AS GREAT AS THE GREAT MAMMON!

Prefers to be the little spoon, but honestly if you fall asleep with him you guys end up tangled up together. Usually face-to-chest, but some kind of tangled up together

Can’t always keep up the dirty talk in bed because he gets so sappy, but he’s big on soft touches, hickies, and needing praise if you want him to go harder/faster when he’s in his gentle moods

Will fight Belphie for King of Lap Naps. Mammon would monetize your nappin’ thighs but then he’d have to share them and that just seems like a bad business idea.

Main fantasy? You begging. Beg for him to do anything and you’re occupied for the next few hours.

Has a bit of a smart mouth so he’ll also get into banter with you and if you get the last word, he’s super embarrassed, proud, and give him a consolation kiss or something, huh?

Helpless when you initiate it because SHIT that was bold and he can’t believed it worked! All you have to do is say his name, look him in the eyes, then his lips, and kiss him. If you think you’re walking away, you don’t make it far.

The type to con you into a quickie in the closet our just out of view/hearing of the others.

The type to write checks his mouth can’t cash 85% of the time. Call his bluff. If he invites you into the bath, do it. Walk in naked. You might have to save him from drowning. 

Leviathan

Levi’s angry noises sound like bearded dragon hisses. Those hisses are used for warning, frustration, and when he does the uncomfortable prickle of awkwardness. When he disagrees or is bashful, they get a warble/chatter to them.

I headcanon that they can also take on their demon form when they feel threatened, as it puts out an aura and makes them more defensive. Levi can transform the easiest due to him feel uncomfortable and not being the most sociable.

When he’s in demon form, his tail will either wrap around him for comfort or will go over to the person he most trusts to comfort him. He tends not to consciously want to touch Lucifer with his tail, but there’s something instinctual about going to the oldest brother. He usually goes to Satan or you (if you’ve reached that type of intimacy)

You would think a guy that shamelessly plays a lot of otome games and uses them as social guides (even though they’re far from perfect) wouldn’t be so susceptible to a peek of skin or nudity, but LEVI IS WEAK!

That whole ‘shirt rides up getting a library book’ thing? He’s dead.

The biggest virgin, basically. Boy’s got a strong imagination and he’s sensitive from the whole ‘gross otaku’ complex.

His biggest fantasy? Water play. He wants to be the big, scary monster who grabs a tasty, tiny human and has his wicked (totally consensual) way.

One of the more adventurous bros because he’s seen a lot of stuff in anime and wants to know if it would really work.

Will definitely ask for a blow job. It’s the shortest blow job ever but he loved it.

Is weak for any kind of kiss so have at it! Especially likes kisses on the mouth, shoulder kisses (because that means cuddling!), and kisses on his chest or belly.

The type to get addicted to sex once he has it, but not helplessly so. He won’t say no if you ask.

Is too embarrassed to ask you to wear some of his clothes so he just kind of leaves them in your room and waits to see if you wear it. If you don’t, he buys you matching clothes so you HAVE to.

Once you’re dating, you’re his good luck charm. No ifs, ands, or buts! He NEEDS you for game night, even if you fall asleep in his arms, okay?

After getting used to the idea of giving you affection and understanding your boundaries, he’s dropping a forehead kiss 24/7.

He hisses more than his brothers, and his tongue can do some tricks the other bros can’t. He’s WAY better than those other dumb humans, too.

You’re one of the only people who can pull him out of his room. He becomes aware that you get him out for exercise (or because Lucifer asks) but if he leaves the House of Lamentation and has you to himself, he won’t complain.

Satan

Cougar noises--the chuffs, the growls, the yeowls, all of it. He is big angry kitty boy

He’s afraid of losing his temper but he’s got a ridiculously tight grip on the reins. You wouldn’t think he’s the Avatar of Wrath until one of his brothers set him off.

His love language is gentle pets, a good book, and a cup of tea. He’s your guard when you don’t want to deal with the outside world. Because Satan’s super logical and admires detectives, his love language is also helping you solve your problems. He just conveniently shows up with something that helps (because he’s been listening and is a background type).

Is emotionally keen, perhaps because his cardinal sin is wrath and he can be sensitive. He has a radar for you and it calls him like a moth to a flame.

Want to seduce him? Read to him. It’s that easy. Share your favorite quotes.

Or just take a cheap shot and do something with cats. He may enlist you to smuggle Hellcats into the House of Lamentation since Lucifer can’t do anything to the precious exchange student. Being its ‘parents’ will bring you close.

Doesn’t like mornings but forces himself to be a morning person. HIGHLY enjoys it if you’re not because it’s so nice to see you go through all the stages of discontent before resigning yourself to getting up and starting the day

He’s not easy to fluster, but he’s the ‘tried and true’ when it comes to getting bothered. If you find something that works, file it away because it will ALWAYS work.

If you fluster him, he has to make it even. It’s the only way he’ll feel good about his weakness. Much prefers if you’re worse off than he is, actually, because there’s something delicious about it

A bit of a sadist. Prefers drawn-out pleasure and taking you for all that you can give

Loves to catch you with that studded tail and keep you in place. Very much likes to drag you back to him. That looks pretty, too.

HIS TAIL IS SENSITIVE. TOUCH IT. PET IT. HIS IQ DROPS TO THE SINGLE DIGITS.

Doesn’t know what to call his kinks, but the idea of restraining you is a nice one. Likes the positions where he has to hold you against him or in place, or can move parts of you to better fit with him. Big on taking you from behind.

Doesn’t care if he’s the big spoon or the little spoon. Just wants to make sure you’re there with him.

Has a fantasy about you serving him tea naked in his room.

Big on biting, and is usually embarrassed about the marks the next day

The type to let you throw your legs over his lap and read in contented silence with you, occasionally massaging your leg

Boy likes legs. Show ‘em off.

Interrupt intense studying sessions (because he over-studies and studies WAY TOO EARLY FOR TESTS) with snuggly pop quizzes (”Who’s cute? A) You, B) The Avatar of Wrath, C) Satan, or D) All of the Above”) because he lives for it.

Cheeky and unexpectedly playful. Will wake you up with tickling or tracing. If you are romantically involved, he’s definitely woken you up with a squeeze or kiss at least once

If you’re in a pact with him, it shows up on your thigh or hip.

Very proficient with magic. Has probably found a way to bring it into the bedroom.

Asmodeus

The cuddliest boy

His angrier noises tend to sound like a giant salamander but his cute flirty/chirpy noises sound like a toy gecko.

I headcanon that Asmodeus became part incubus when he fell to Devildom, or that he ended up with some of those traits once he became the Avatar of Lust

He can feed off the various types of love emotions (genuine love, sweet crush love, jealous love, sex, etc.) but it doesn’t fill him up as much as hunting humans or other demons. It’s just something he can feed off of more frequently so it keeps hunger at bay.

Will pamper his crush or someone he holds dear because that’s bonding. He wants SOMEONE to understand the lengths he goes through to be beautiful! It’s a process! Respect him!

The biggest hype boyfriend ever. Will take your confidence to new levels and show you that you can rock anything

Epitome of ‘looks like a cinnamon roll but could actually kill you’ trope

Are you having a play date with makeup? Turn those lipstick swatches into lipstick kisses and he’s got to stop and recollect himself. His little heart’s going so fast!

Glows when you praise him. It could be something he’s heard for centuries but somehow you say it better than anyone ever has.

When he’s feeling extra affectionate and just really loves you, his eyes will be a pinky-red.

Wants to be babied. Please kiss him.

100% down for soft cuddles and luxurious touches. Long days spent in bed and slow, dream-like sex.

Doesn’t really like his hair messed with because he works on it a lot.

Touch his arms, his back, and his chest and he’s all yours.

Will kiss you anywhere, but his favorite place to kiss you when you’re cuddling is on the inside of your wrist

Prefers to be the little spoon.

The skin on his shoulders can dry out when he takes on his demon form. Something about the texture of demon wings dries them out really bad. Put lotion on him and he’s singing your praises.

Gets you into the most exclusive places and plans the best shopping days. Your off days will be the envy of everyone in the Devildom!

Asmodeus is very perceptive when it comes to his love, and very receptive in terms of sex. It feels like the world’s longest questionnaire before you have sex, but he needs to be ABSOLUTELY clear about your experience, comfort, what you like, and what you don’t.

Probably gets off first because the act of having sex is very heady and strong. It’s a massive energy boost at once. It’s the second-best type of feed he can get and makes him feel drunk/light-headed.

Definitely makes up for it. You probably won’t be able to walk afterwards.

Big on PDA around others. Holding hands and matching nails!

When Asmodeus makes a pact with you, it shows up in aesthetic places like your shoulder, your wrist, your ankle, or above your chest.

Is big on receiving praise but not as big as Mammon

Sex with him can be rough and hard, sweet and gentle, and everything in between. Is very likely to mess up your clothes because he has a hard time controlling his claws when he’s in the moment but you can wear his clothes. It’s fine.

Will give you hickies. Loves the colors they take on your skin.

If he’s helping you get ready for an event, all that pretty makeup might get messed up when he takes you against the vanity. He can’t help it!

10/10 the best, most supportive boyfriend. A sweetheart with claws.

Beelzebub

Sweetest boy. The one that has good intentions even if things don’t go to plan

Very loyal. He’s neutral to everyone when they first meet him, but he’ll quickly pick favorites or befriend someone if his intuition says he should.

Beel’s a pretty good people-reader. Maybe it comes from being an older twin, but he knows a bad heart when he sees it

Is very empathetic and can get really upset for his hungry fury. It’s hard to shake but if you’re gentle/persistent, you’ll get a smile.

If you get some tears, just hold him and tell him it’s okay. You know it’s hard to control.

Also on team ‘play with my hair’

He’s a sucker for kisses around his ear, the base of his throat, AND HIS STOMACH. KISS THAT TUMMY!

Forgets that he’s built very differently than you and is honestly amused by how awe-struck you get with his muscles.

Squeeze his bicep. It makes him blush.

Quiet fawning over his muscles really warms his heart. Just praise him, kiss him, and run your fingers over his chest and you’ll get the good, deep rumbly polar bear purr.

Beel has deep, rolling demon noises. It’s something about how tall and wide he is that makes the reverb shake deep in your bones no matter how gentle it is

Will think the stars of you if he catches you looking after his family.

His heart skips a beat and his face goes super red if you pack him snacks with little notes on them

Is 100% down for food dates.

Loves carrying you. He’s nice and helpful and when you start dating, he just loves having his tiny human close.

Has to learn to temper his strength when you start dating because he tried to be cute and scoop you up but almost threw you into the ceiling

Very gentle bear hugs from very gentle Beel

Prefers you to climb on him when you want to cuddle that way he doesn’t accidentally hurt you. Loves to feel you struggling to climb on his back.

Likes to snuggle your arms when they’re wrapped around his neck (especially when you’re getting a piggyback). Absently rubs your thighs/knees because they’re in his hands.

Lots of absentminded but heartfelt kisses because you smell good and he loves you. He just wants to kiss you, not taste you! (”One more, please?”)

Has a size kink. He’s a big boy so you’re probably smaller by default and you’re just easy to pick up and hold and--boy’s going to bust a nut just getting you into position

Big into oral because you smell good and taste good and he could eat you for HOURS. He has the strength and stamina, trust me.

Has the best jawline of the bros because he’s always working his mouth muscles.

Tends to take you from behind just to minimize the height difference but he’s also had sex in the kitchen, in his bed, and is coming around the idea of you being on top of him.

Won’t leave hickies but he’s the suckling type. Most likely to leave fingerprints/handprints

Heavy post-cuddler.

If you feed him (even jokingly) after sex, he’s going to immediately roll over and want to go again.

You love him enough to feed him and he just loves you and--?!!

If you cook him anything, he’ll definitely give his compliments to the chef

Always buys you cute aprons and things to wear in the kitchen. Has a matching set even if it doesn’t fit him very well.

If you make a trip to the human world, please come back with a bunch of cheeseburgers for your baby. He’ll love you forever (even though he already does).

Loves to cuddle. If you rest your head on him, he puts his arm around you and pull you in close. He’ll initiate the ‘in lap cuddling’.

Is surprisingly good at potions because he’s familiar with the ingredients and can tell if you’re on the right track based on how it smells.

Loves to feed you. Won’t say no to being fed. Didn’t know he had a finger kissing/sucking kink until he was being careful with a bite of food and somehow still got your finger (no damage though).

When you make a pact with Beelzebub, it shows up on your stomach.  

[pitviperofdoom]

I really liked your 'Life Preserver' excerpt and I'd love to read more about it. I liked the interaction between Gerry and Georgie, their characterization and Gerry's description of his relationship with Jon, plus this exchange: “He thinks your mum’s a homophobe, you know.”“You know, he’s probably right? Think she might just hate the idea of love in general, though.”“Messy divorce, I take it,”“Rohypnol and garden shears were involved, so yeah, I’d say it was pretty messy.”

Thanks!

Yeah, Gerry and Georgie surprised me as a really interesting dynamic to explore. In spite of Georgie’s caution around the Entities, Gerry just feels like the kind of person Georgie would get along with, given the people she canonically ends up loving.

Anyway here’s another part I’ve written! This one actually has Jon and Gerry in it.

---

When Jon went in for his next shift, things went smoothly enough to be genuinely suspicious. Tina was his desk partner again, and she greeted him with the same cordiality as always. No one official-looking ever came by to speak with him.

The only hint that anything had happened that night was a campus-wide e-mail paying respects to Daniel Lattimer, one of the subject librarians, who was reported as having “passed unexpectedly”. The message held all of the usual official platitudes and nothing else; Jon had read it word for word several times to be sure.

Someone should have known, shouldn’t they? It wasn’t as if he had been careful about covering his tracks, beyond making his tip anonymous. The library had cameras. He was sure he’d left at least a few shoe prints in all the blood.

But nothing came of it. The first hour passed peacefully, with nothing more exciting than a couple of patrons he had to inform of overdue books.

Jon spotted the familiar dark figure out of the corner of his eye, even before Tina hissed a warning at him. He raised his head to watch Gerard Keay’s approach, chest suddenly tight with nervousness.

How on earth was he supposed to explain this?

“Hey.” Gerard was in front of him already, leaning his elbows on the desk as usual. “Any word on that book? I tried to come in yesterday, but you were closed.”

“R-right.” Jon hesitated. There were several ways he could answer this. He could, of course, be utterly truthful and tell him that he’d burned the thing on account of it being made of meat and killing one of the librarians. He almost laughed at the thought. At worst, Gerard would complain to someone about Jon being unhelpful; at best, he’d find it funny, but he’d demand a real answer once he was done laughing about it.

He could lie and stall by saying that the book was still on its way. But that was a temporary fix at best, and it would only lead Gerard to keep coming in and asking.

And would that really be so bad? Jon shook his head to clear away the thought.

“Right,” he said again. “A-about that. Unfortunately—” He slipped his bandaged hand behind the desk, out of sight. “—we were unable to find the book in storage. It seems to have been marked incorrectly. It happens sometimes. Though not very often, I assure you,” he added hastily. “But it’s been marked down as missing, I’m afraid.”

“Oh.” Gerard’s face was the very picture of disappointment. “That’s a shame. Really did need that one.”

“Terribly sorry for the inconvenience.” Jon tried to sound like he meant it.

It was hard to force down the sheer, overwhelming relief. Just last night he’d regretted his own paranoia, but now? If he hadn’t gone back, if he hadn’t checked for the book…

Well, the library might not have been closed yesterday. And he didn’t have the first shift at the circulation desk. And whoever did might have been someone who didn’t know, someone who wasn’t haunted by the name Jurgen Leitner, who might have taken the book from the cart and handed it straight over—

The unwelcome memory of Mr. Lattimer’s body rose up behind his eyes, juxtaposed over the young man standing before him.

As a child, he’d doomed someone else to a gruesome death that should have been his. So maybe this time… maybe he’d actually…

“Well then,” said Gerard, shaking him out of his bubble of thoughts. “Guess that’s—er, guess I’ll look elsewhere…”

“Right,” said Jon. “Unless there was anything else you needed…?” He tried not to sound too hopeful.

“No, thanks, that’s it,” said Gerard, already turning away. “Thanks for all the help.”

“Oh, I hardly—I mean, I didn’t really do much, in the end.”

Gerard regarded him for a moment, head tilted to one side with a thoughtful look. Then, quite without warning, he smiled at him. “Don’t sell yourself short. You were great.”

“O-of course,” Jon stammered as Gerard turned to leave again. “Oh, wait—wait a moment.”

Gerard looked back. “Yeah?”

Jon dug into his pocket, pulling out the lighter. “Is this yours?” he asked, placing it on the desk. “I found it on one of the tables in the reading room, and I remembered you had it the other day…”

Instead of taking it, Gerard simply flashed him one last grin. “Keep it,” he said. “I’ve got loads.”

“It’s really not good to keep ignition sources in a library,” Jon protested, feeling inordinately flustered.

Gerard laughed, a brief, bright thing, and—

“D’you want to get coffee?” Jon blurted out.

The smile froze on Gerard’s face, before giving way to surprise. “What?”

A stab of terror nearly robbed Jon of his words, before he found his voice again and forged ahead. “Do you—I mean. Do you want to get coffee sometime?” he repeated. Shit. Shit, he was doing this, how was he already doing this? “With me?” He wanted to kick himself, of course he’d know he meant it that way. “I—my shift ends at noon today. If you’re free. I-if you want to, I mean.”

Gerard blinked at him, so utterly bewildered that it might have been funny if Jon’s heart weren’t currently climbing into his throat. “You—wait. Is this… are you asking me on a date?”

He said it so incredulously, as if the idea that Jon would ask him on a date were utterly incomprehensible to him. Rapidly, Jon’s heart sank back down.

“Yes,” Tina leapt in helpfully. “He is. Aren’t you, Jon?”

She nudged him none too gently. “Y-yes,” he said, because it wasn’t as if he could dig himself any deeper. “That—that was the intention.”

“Huh.” Gerard shrugged. “Sure.”

The whiplash made Jon dizzy for a moment. “Really?”

“Yeah. Noon, right? See you then.” With that, he turned and walked out of the library.

Once he was out of sight, Jon slumped over onto the surface of the desk like a marionette with its strings cut.

Tina patted his back. “Proud of you. Go get that goth D.”

***

It wasn’t that Gerry didn’t know it was a terrible idea—just that he’d had worse ones before. He was still breathing after years of them, in fact. So what was one more?

Jon the librarian was far from the first scarred survivor he’d ever met. They weren’t common, precisely, but nor were they unheard of. Technically he was one, and Mum had been as well, before she carved herself up.

But Gerry knew he was an outlier, and as rare as surviving one brush with the Fears was, meeting two of the things and escaping uneaten from both was on a level of its own. But against all odds, when he looked at the wispy little librarian who’d spent the past week being so divertingly helpful, Gerry could see two separate, distinct marks on him, where there had previously been only one. And they really were distinct from one another. The Flesh was like a shark sometimes, content to take one good bite before losing interest and wandering off, while the wisps of the Web still clung jealously. A scar like that could have been left years ago or the day before they met. You could never tell with the Web.

That added to the risk, of course. For all he knew, this was some ploy from the Mother of Puppets to catch him and draw him in. A little cliche, maybe, but Gerry couldn’t fault it for its efficacy.

He’d said yes, after all.

In his defense, it wasn’t every day he met someone with a nice face, a taste for burning Leitners, and enough luck or fortitude to walk away from two different Powers. Nor was it every day a person like that asked him to… well…

People didn’t flirt with him, was the thing. Anyone who knew enough to be worth talking to either wised up and ran the other way, or turned around and tried to take a chunk out of him.

So, yeah. Might as well give it a shot. See what it was like, while he had the chance.

He had til noon to brace himself, anyway. Not enough time to go back to Mum’s and freshen up, which was a shame. She’d just faded out a couple of days ago, so he knew he’d have the place to himself.

Ah, well.

In spite of himself, Gerry found himself turning his face upward with a grin and an excited spring in his step. It’d be a bit like traveling abroad, or visiting tourist traps, or all the other things he indulged in when Mum was gone. See as much of the world beyond his own as he could, before she finally fucked up and got him killed.

A date! Who’d have thought he’d get to check that one off the bucket list?

[xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx]

Someone - Ghost Ben Hargreeves x Ghost!Reader

Request: Ben hargreeves x reader who is also a ghost??? And klaus ships the hell out of em & Ghost ben x ghost reader with klaus third wheeling hehehehe i need more platonic klaus and reader stuffss

Warnings: mentions of drugs (well.. it’s Klaus) and death (uhm bc ghosts?)

Word count: 2 045

“TWINKLE TWINKLE LITTLE STAR-!”

Klaus jumped up so quickly that he almost fell out of his bed. The bright sunlight that was shining into his room was blinding and hurt his eyes, mostly, but not only, due to the terrible hangover he was suffering from.

“What-“

He blinked and noticed two figures standing at the end of the bed. One was Klaus’s deceaced, adopted brother Ben, and the other was you, the also deceased neighbor, who the Hargreaves kids had been friends with for as long as they could think. Now both ghosts stood in Klaus’ room, staring down at him in worry. Klaus usually loved his sleep but today your obnoxiously loud and off-key singing had woken him up for good; saved him from the lost souls that chased him in his nightmares.

“You were screaming,” Ben explained, crouching down to his brother. “Did you hurt yourself?”

Klaus shook his head no and slowly untangled himself from his blanket, earning an unnerved screech from you.

“Seriously, you sleep in a shirt but without pants?”

You turned away, deciding that it was too early in the day to be faced with Klaus’ bare legs in all their pale beauty.

Ben just chuckled.

“You hang around all the time anyway,” Klaus answered, reaching for the hand Ben had offered him, but was only met with thin air, causing him to sigh and get up by himself. “I bet you peek when I take a bath!”

“Oh, he’s fine,” you answered Ben’s question that had originally been directed at Klaus. “If he can hit on a dead person this early in the morning, he’s fine.”

And with these words you left the room. Through the wall.

Ben watched as Klaus wandered over to the chair by his desk and grabbed a flower skirt which he put on.

“Oh man, seriously?”

“What? Flowers match my aesthetics!”

“I meant the stupid lines you throw at (y/n) all the time. You know they don’t like it! You’re just gonna chase them away eventually,” Ben complained.

“Oh, they know it’s just banter,” Klaus disagreed, “and you’re just jealous that you don’t have the courage to be so open.”

Ben’s eyes widened, and he almost would have jumped forward to cover Klaus’ mouth with his hands to make him be quiet, but it would not have made a difference anyway since he was not made of matter.

“Shh,” he hissed instead, “They might hear you!”

“Oh come on,” Klaus threw his hands in the air, “did you still not tell them you like them? I didn’t raise you to be such a coward!”

“Yeah, you didn’t raise me at all,” Ben spit back, “and it doesn’t have to do anything with cowardice, just so you know.”

“Oh really, then why didn’t you tell them yet?”

Ben sighed, not sure what to answer. He did like you, very much in fact. But you were friends, and if he confessed that he liked you… the usual problems anyone who had ever been in love with their friend. But with the little additional problem that both of you were dead. For all eternity. You would both be stuck together in this weird situation until the end of time.

In the meantime, oblivious to the conversation that was going on in Klaus’ room, you were wandering around the Hargreaves mansion. Sometimes it upset you that you had no possibility to talk to anyone, other times you had fun commenting on the inhabitants’ routines the same way a sports reporter would, but today you were content just strolling around the house.

Grace was sitting in the gallery, embroidering flowers onto a white piece of cloth. For a while you watched her precise movements, then you walked over to the edge of the balustrade and watched Diego practicing his knife throwing. He was standing at the bottom of the stairs, and was throwing his knives against the door while turning to change the angle as often as possible. With slight amusement you watched the cold metal blades boring themselves into the massive wood where they stayed stuck, vibrating from the impact.

After you had watched Diego for a while you walked downstairs into the kitchen, where you found Luther brooding over his oatmeal.

“Knock, knock, anyone home?”

You pretended to knock your knuckles against Luther’s head.

“Sorry, that wasn’t very nice,” you mumbled, and flopped down on the chair opposite him. “sooo, what’s going on inside that head of yours, hm?”

Since, unlike Klaus, Luther could neither see nor hear you, he did not respond or even move, he just kept staring at his half eaten breakfast.

“How do you do that, dealing with your feelings for Allison,” you wondered, still not receiving an answer, but not expecting one either, “everyone knows you guys have a thing for each other, and you are always around each other. How does that not totally destroy you?”

Luther sighed and picked up his spoon, twirling it between his fingers.

“I mean… do you feel remotely as lonely as I do? Every time I see Ben, or even think of him, I… I see what I could have, how perfect he is, how kind, how… broken. He never wanted his power, yet he was the one burdened with it, and it’s so hard for him. And I just want to help, but I also want so much more! I want to hug him, and kiss him, and tell him everything will be alright! I want to make sure he’ll always be safe and welcome with me, and… then I remember that he just does not feel the same affection for me as I feel for him… and it just sucks.”

Luther dipped the spoon into the oatmeal, and pulled it back out, but instead of eating it, he turned the spoon so the oatmeal dripped of the spoon and back into the bowl, making a strange, wet sound.

“Yeah, something like that.”

~*~

No matter how much you adored Klaus and the stupid jokes he was making, you could not always hang around him. It was not so much his character, or Ben’s constant presence that made things hard as much as it was what he poor bastard did to himself. You were pretty certain Klaus had tried out every single drug nature and mankind had ever developed, and he spent most of his waking time getting high on them. You just could not watch it. You and Ben were the only two ghosts who got through to him once he was all drugged up, and you had lost count on how many times you had tried to stop Klaus from taking whatever he was about to take, but to no avail. He never listened. And while Ben hung out with Klaus for whatever reason, you just could not. Klaus was not your responsibility, and he had made it pretty clear that he did not want your concern either. And so you tried to stay away from him most of the time he was not clear.

The sun already began to set over the city when you made your way up to the roof. You loved sitting out here, watching the last light fade in the distance and the stars creep out of their hiding. You missed the feeling of the sunbeams on your skin and the wind in your hair, but at least you still got to watch these perfectly rich colours on the horizon and on the roofs.

You wondered whether in ten, twenty, a hundred or even a thousand years you would still be able to enjoy these images as much as you enjoyed them now. Would you stop caring eventually, when everybody who had ever bound your soul to this world had died? Would you turn bitter and angry, like a poltergeist? You could not remember ever having met such a ghost. Most of the time the other dead people were just shadows of their former selves, and hardly any were as conscious and active as Ben and you. Would you lose this energy eventually? Would you too just turn into some dead shadow of your former self?

While you were still thinking about these topics, Ben had slowly approached you, and sat down next to you. Only then you noticed him.

Turning your gaze away from the skyline, you looked over at him. Ben’s eyes were closed and his head was dropped back into his neck as if he was trying to feel the wind and sun on his face. But you knew he could not. Some people might think it to be romantic to be a ghost, but really it just felt like you had been robbed of some of the best things in life, like the feeling of wind and sun and water, your favourite foods and long Sunday naps.

“How was your day,” you asked, looking back at the horizon.

“Ah, you know,” Ben shrugged, “the usual. Klaus being a dick, Klaus being annoying, Klaus sleeping, Klaus listening to music …” You laughed, and Ben could not help but feel a little proud for having made you laugh. “And yours?”

“Watched Grace, watched Diego, had a very one-sided conversation with Luther and some of the portraits in the gallery, and I am currently enjoying this wonderful sunset,” you summarized.

“What did you talk to Luther about,” Ben wondered, and for a moment you wondered if he was jealous. But of course he was not. Why should he be? Luther did not even know you existed in this afterlife.

“Allison, loneliness, as you said, the usual,” you answered.

“You’re lonely,” Ben wondered, and turned to look at you.

“Sometimes,” you admitted, “I mean… I can see my family every day, but I can’t change anything about how their lives have changed without me. I never thought my dad would be one to drink, but here we are! And my siblings are all grown up now, moving away, living… and I’m just here like… maybe I should attend college, just out of curiosity. Or go to some workshop for knitting, even if I can’t do it myself.” You hesitated for a moment, before continuing more quietly. “I just feel like I’m lacking sense. Like… something’s missing.”

“Or someone,” Ben added, more to himself, but when he looked up from where he had been staring at his hands, he saw you were looking at him.

“Someone,” you asked, not sure if you wanted an explanation.

He did not answer. He just stared at you. At the sunbeams that caught in your lashes and made them glow, but left no shadows on your cheeks, at the way your eyes skipped over his face, trying to read his expression, but failing. Over the years he had learned that the only thing that felt real in this strange state of being a ghost was the touch of another ghost, and it felt weird and foreign since it happened so rarely. Ben did not know why exactly, or whether there was any reason at all, when he leant forward and pressed his lips to yours. Maybe it was just to stop that look on your face that tried to hide disappointment. Maybe it was because he had wanted to do this since he had been a teenager. Much to his relief you did not pull away, instead you leant in, gently kissing him back and driving his heart crazy, especially when you decided to place your hand at the side of his face to pull him closer. Your skin was warm and soft and real, so different from the strange world of the living all around the two of you. Ben did not quite realise it until he had pulled away again, cheeks blushed and lips swollen, but something felt different. It was not just the ecstatic feeling of knowing you liked him just as much as he liked you, but something more. What had you said about this feeling of loneliness earlier? As if something, someone, was missing? Ben leant his forehead against you and felt your eyelashes flatter against his skin. That feeling of something missing was gone now. He had found the Someone he had been missing. You.

Taglist (if you want to be added or taken off, please let me know):

General: @robinruns @marty-delorean05 @lookalivefrosty @jayloverthe3rd @butterflycore @vamp-void @angelevansfalls @starduststyx

UA: @myrandom-fandomlife

[lukesperfectharmonyhair]

im rewatching jatp instead of studying for the 3 tests i have tomorrow and i thought i would share my thoughts and reactions with each episode so enjoy!!....

wake up

- hearing the “1, 2, 3″ at the start of the episode gives me more serotonin than my antidepressants ever will

- julie’s slippers...that’s it...that’s the thought

- that dry ass pasta the molina’s are eating for dinner??? someone needs to give my man ray some cooking tips or a cookbook... something

-the looks the boys give julie when she says it was an OLD cd she found. as if they could be old??

-the entire julie and luke kitchen scene i mean there are no words to describe how much i am in love with scene. the banter, the flirting, luke giving this girl he literally just met an actual PIECE OF HIS SOUL so she can get music back into her life. not a single time have i watched that scene and not felt my heart literally grow cause of how cute they are. 

-the entire scene when julie is singing wake up. that scene is what made me literally CRAVE watching the other episodes. like of course i was going to watch them cause i wasn’t gonna just stop watching a show after one episode, and yes the show was good already but seeing the lighting and her voice, and just everything about the scene,,,,*chef’s kiss* 

bright

-flynn drinking seven sodas....SEVEN??? i would be throwing up if i drank more than like 2 and she drank seven,,,no ma’am.

- flynn and her trumpet. talented queen

- “ i wouldn’t have given you the song if i didnt think you were gonna rock it.” lmaooo im crying:)

- i start tearing up every time julie goes to play the first notes of bright,,, and then i’m full on bawling when the guys come in and play with her cause...they weren’t playing to be seen they were playing to be there for her and play to comfort her. pls i love them<3

- nick vibing in the front row

- the tech guy deserves so much more praise

flying solo

- reggie’s little butt shake or whatever you wanna call it!!

- julie’s little laugh when she yells at the guys to stop it

- “and we’re on the runway again” GENUINELY one of my favorite lines of the whole show pls i love luke’s humor

-this is the first time i noticed this but reggie’s face after alex says “DONT TELL ME HOW TO GHOST!”

-WILLIE!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE YOU<3333333

-the slow mo helmet take off,,,,me too alex me too

-willie’s little giggles:))))

- “oh-oh!”

- “no clue” alex i love you baby<3

- next season better give us a scene of flynn throwing eggs at someone’s house because i think it’s safe to say we were robbed of that experience. 

- the flying solo performance is just amazing

i got the music

- just the whole opening scene is so cute ....the dancing, singing, happiness RADIATING from julie 

-nick in an all white suit and fedora

-WILLEX MUSEUM DATE YEAH BABYYYYY

- carefree skateboarder bf and anxiety ridden drummer bf

- yelling. in. museums. 

-alex thinking he’s literally dying again because of the salt... zero braincells in this band.

- another scene we were robbed of that i need to see in season 2...reggie singing “home is where my horse is” while alex and julie sit patiently and attentively listen to him but luke looks like he’s about to commit murder

- i get SO MUCH second hand embarrassment for julie when she looks through luke’s songbook and says “ wow luke I didn’t know you were such a romantic” julie baby i love you but...eekkkkk

- “he looks like a substitute teacher”- where did he come up with that like so many other things he could be compared to but a substitute teacher??

- “luke introduced you to rock” heck yeah it did.. literal soulmates

- would like to see a picture of the raccoon in Flynn’s backyard

- wee woo wee woo police sirens://///

- julie’s outfit ughhhh i love it

- the poster that im pretty sure says “sexiest role” behind caleb... why was that necessary 

the other side of hollywood

- THE ENTIRE PERFORMANCE OF THE OTHER SIDE OF HOLLYWOOD 

- i lose my absolute shit over this song omg literal chills

- the cape grab i cannot physically do this rn

- willie being so excited the entire performance and looking over to see alex’s reaction

- reggie being in awe everytime one of the girls performing does something.. me too reggie

-”well i wouldn't really call it mAAgiCcCC bUT”

- nick and his fedora again

- alex has a crush, alex has a crush on.....WILLIE

-the boys eating food for the first time in 25 years is honestly so realistic

-alex shoving a whole slice of pizza in his mouth

- lukes ‘OH MY GODDDDD’

- reggie kissing his meatball sub that looks painfully dry but also delicious 

- the continuation of the other side of hollywood performance and everyone dancing

-reggie imitating caleb’s evil laugh and owen trying so hard not to break

-me getting mad at the boys for not showing up for julie and being sad with her but at the same time i’m obviously not mad at the boys just...disappointed?? idk 

finally free

- how did julie get to the school if she missed the first three classes?? wasn’t she still at flynn’s house from the night before cause she slept over so did she walk to school or was she just sitting in flynn’s house by herself and one of flynn’s parents was like you gonna go to school or???

-dance class with nicky poo<3

-reggie fixing his amp in the rain

-julie’s blue dress outfit in this episode is my ABSOLUTE favorite 

- the birthday candle scene makes me sob like a little baby,,,and rightfully so

- julie smart, smart to be taking calculus as what a sophomore??

- all eyes on me yes queen iconic

- alex dancing is how i dance in my brain whenever the song comes on 

- finally free as a song is NEVER given enough credit and why not?? it’s my favorite song they do as a band AND the madison’s vocals and the echoing part omg i loveeeee

- and the whole performance with luke’s heart eyes. i count this performance as the moment luke like fell in love with julie...like full on just blown away with how much awe and admiration he has for her in that moment and all the time.

 - julie and luke singing “and you’re a part of me” while staring directly into each others soul,,,yeah that’s love kids

edge of great

- carlos being the ghost hunter he is and tía being done with him

- luke’s pouting face 

- reggie and ray making breakfast together is so wholesome. reggie really loves and seeks comfort in ray and i love that

- luke just waiting next to julie’s locker and his little “hey”

- the first time i watch this scene i thought charlie was from new york cause of the way he says “ i can't do this without you” and then i watched the cast interviews and just realized he is somewhat joey tribbiani 

- jealous luke hehehehehhehehe

- “well dont you look shARrP”- yes he does luke thank you very much

- “uh oh i think someone has a crush on julie” yeah you do you little shit,,, now admit it to her

- the proud look on luke’s face when he realizes julie is still paying attention to HIM even though she’s supposed to be having a full on conversation with nick

- the shoulder push ( as someone who has had their own shoulder pushed in the middle of a high school hallway as a weird way of flirting,,,,i can definitely somewhat attest to how luke is feeling in that moment and i too continued to flirt with the person who shoulder shoved me while we were still standing in the hallway)

- the flow from whatever the hell dance nick and julie are doing and the perfect harmony dance is so special to me and i love it

-ADOANCLOBNAOVBCOAB THE HAIR PLSSSSS

- EVERYTIME THE SCENE COMES ON AND I SEE HIM WALKING THROUGH THE MIRROR I HAVE TO PAUSE THE SHOW FOR LIKE 10 MINUTES WHILE I DIE LAUGHING BECAUSE THE HAIR IS SO BAD EVEN THOUGH I SHOULD BE USED TO HOW IT LOOKS AFTER WATCHING THIS SHOW LITERALLY 30 TIMES

- i think people see my username and assume i like his hair in this scene but...ummm fun little fact i do not like it

- the dance is so good though ugh my babies

- the hair

- madison is gorgeous 

- another season 2 scene i need: julie teaching this dance to luke and they perform it in front of alex and reggie so they can see luke roll on the floor like that

-the hair

- the lift i loveeee

- the voices at the end of the song *chef’s kiss*

- the way julie spins out from luke and into nick omg so good

- “thAnKs pArTnER”

- luke denying his feelings for julie,,,babe pls

- the whole edge of great performance is so good and beautiful and the colors are SPECTACULAR 

-julie avoiding luke’s gaze lolz

- can't believe my mans really tried to deny he didn’t have feelings for julie like 5 hours earlier even though he’s getting upset because she hasn’t looked at him in 2 minutes

- THE. GUITAR. RIFF. SOLO.

- when i finally learn how to play the electric guitar well enough to learn the guitar solo... it’s over for everyone

-nick just came to watch the girl he likes perform not watch her flirt with a hologram plssss can we give this man a break next season.

- “we have to say goodbye to julie”- that’s literally more important to luke than not playing music anymore because julie is music to him now

unsaid emily

-already crying and the episode hasn't even started

-willex in the orpheum

- alex literally being OVER reggie

- nope too emotionally unstable to watch this scene right now

- my therapist will be hearing about this tomorrow

- show us the baby picture of luke cowards

- this is such a beautiful song that makes me cry every fucking time gosh damn it

- everytime i watch the flashback scene of luke on his bike i think of “christmas song” by phoebe bridges and i cry even more

- i tried to learn how to play this song on my electric guitar (because i dont have an acoustic guitar) and i ended up crying half way through so i do not think i will be playing it anytime soon:/

- the harmonies *chef’s kiss*

- THE POLICE LIGHTS ....i cry

- FAT tears rolling down my face

- there's literally not a moment i don’t cry during this episode

- interesting little relationship :0

- when i played percussion in 7th grade i used to lay down on the couch in the practice room at school ( which god knows what people did on that couch...ew) and stick my drumsticks up my nose too,,,, just another similarity between alex and i 

stand tall

- willie really drove a bus 200 miles into the desert for his crush

- WILLEX HUG 

- i love willie no last name so much,,,i just wanna hold and protect him

- alex’s ballerina dance

-julie’s overall outfit i love<3

- “im swimming”

- the way carlos hangs up the iPad on tía makes me CRACK UP he’s just lmao bye girl

- another julie outfit i love

- “anything julie. you know that.” AHHHHHAASIDSJFPACISN love bitches

- the suits

- luke’s hair in this episode is so much better than the perfect harmony hair pls

- YOU GOT NOTHING TO LOSE

- the way luke looks so restricted and confined in his suit... but at the same time he looks like a 10 week old puppy

-luke’s AGGRESSIVE but small foot tapping leading up to being on the stage

- the solos:)))))

- crying again over julie’s monologue to her mom

- julie really was brave enough to be ready to perform by herself

-the way Trevor looks at carrie when she says “been here before”

-ALEXXXXXX

-REGGIEEEEE

-luuukkKKKEEEEEEE

- this performance makes me cry

- especially the first time when i saw luke flickering...sobs

- he finally looks free in his suit:))

- alex’s solo is so pretty i love him

- reggie’s solo too 

- nick just straight up vibing the entire performance

- alex and luke holding hands...hehehe cute besties

- “thank you, guys” NO THANK YOU 

- the way julie begs for them to do something about the jolts for HER cause she knows luke would never say no to her

- “no music is worth making, julie, if we’re not making it with you,” I JUST SCREAMED AND IM PRETTY SURE I WOKE UP MY ENTIRE HOUSEHOLD...whoops

- going back to that line i could say so much about it but....for someone who’s life was literally MUSIC for the 17 years he was alive, and after finding out he could play music again even though he was dead and saying it made him feel alive, he would give that up- he would give up playing his guitar, playing in a band with his friends, give up writing and singing music- if he wasn’t doing that with julie. that’s more than saying i love you,,,that’s literally like saying i’d give up my ENTIRE LIFE and what i love to do if i dont get to do it with you

- i just made myself cry with that description...wow

-the hug<3

-also imagine how luke felt in that moment,,, hearing this girl, once again that he would give his life up for, saying in his ear that she loves them. i would motherfucking glow too, luke

- *passionately but gently holds each others faces*

-HANDS OFF MY BABY NICK, CALEB

- caleb’s outfit is....something

- the head turn plssss

this was so long and i am so sorry but if you read this far.....leave some of your own reactions or thoughts:)))

k goodnight im gonna, ugh, finally go study ://

[mxpseudonym]

Too Many Questions

Pairing: Tommy x OC 

Reader Gender Expression: Male Reader (if you don’t mind straight up characterization)

Length: 4406 words (allegedly)

Warnings: None

A/N: Very self indulgent, it’s just an idea that came to mind. I’m writing a part two because this was getting too long for a tumblr post. Part II is sappy and possibly spicy, we’ll see. 

Edit: It was irking my soul that I split this piece into two parts so I combined them and now Part II doesn’t exist. 

Tommy’s Betrayal 

--

"What the fuck did you just say?"

Tommy's eyes snapped away from their leisurely journey tracing the lines on the man's face to his cool, unyielding brown eyes.  

"Do you keep thinking about her because she was your last chance at salvation?"

The question was sharp and unavoidable. It was inappropriate. It was not a question at all, but a statement disguised in the most palatable way possible. Most importantly, it was telling. Who knew Tommy Shelby better than Jack Brewer? Only Polly Shelby, probably.

If he were honest, Tommy didn't even know how it happened. Jack was young, only just approaching his late twenties, yet he was the puppet master of London Town. His utterly charming but never quite polite disposition only helped unnerve gangsters and politicians alike when he monitored them like chess pieces. Rumors overtook facts, leaving the miraculous path Jack took from being a banker's apprentice to untamed royalty a mystery of folklore proportions. To add to it, Jack's boyish, handsome features made him unassuming.

"Don't mind the priss. He's just bein' a nuisance in the corner," Alfie Solomons grumbled as he led Tommy into the office. The rum runner nodded his head towards the back of his office, revealing a clean-shaven 22-year-old in an expensive suit.

"You're grumpy today, Alfie. You still skipping breakfast?" Jack asked, an airy arrogance to his tone. He didn't look up from the folder he was reading from while Alfie barked a sassy rebuttal, but when Jack did, his eyes locked with Tommy's. Suddenly he was standing and approaching the businessmen with an outstretched hand. His manner was as relaxed as his firm yet comfortable handshake. "Thomas Shelby, how are you? I'm Jack Brewer."

"I'd say nice to meet you, but I don't know yet." Tommy watched Jack's eyes sparkle.

"This has already made my day."

"Do you mind? We have a meeting?" Tommy motioned to Alfie, not bothering with many pleasantries. Jack looked to Alfie, a playful smile on his face.

"Alfie?"

"The kid's my partner anyway. He's a puppeteer and a walking omen if you can believe it," Alfie, in his own way, vouched for the boy.

"Anyone could have predicted the war between the Jews and the Italians. You just have to think," Jack said with a shrug.

"What kind of partners are you?" Tommy asked as he unbuttoned his suit jacket. Jack's eyes flickered down to take in his figure for a moment, not minding for a second that Tommy caught the motion. He even looked him in the eye after.

"Alfie provides security for me, and I help him out with projects here and there. He can let you know which ones."

"Ah, there's a lot of trust between you then." Tommy nodded.

"Not really. We just understand each other. If I were to betray Alfie, I'd lose business, reputation, and all the dark rum I can swallow. If Alfie were to betray me, it would be in vain, and I'd make sure he wouldn't be able to leave more than a glimmer of false hope to his kin when he passes. Right, Alfie?" Jack looked back to Alfie, his smile still reposed and bright.

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard you. Now quit your yapping and get over here, Tommy." Alfie motioned to the chair in front of him. Before he could, a hand reached out and placed itself on Tommy's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. It would have been warm if Jack wasn't seemingly wicked at heart.

"Don't worry, Tommy, I won't interfere. I've got work to do back here."

That was a good four years ago, and now Tommy sat shirtless on a chair in Jack's posh, surprisingly well-used kitchen. Just a moment ago, Tommy was musing about how he felt robbed. It took showing up at half past midnight with a knife wound to see Jack with mused hair, wiry glasses, and a long-sleeved thermal pushed up to his elbows. Now, Tommy was looking at that same boy as if he'd lost his mind.

"You've got a lot of balls, Jack, and you're toeing a fine line. Why would you say that?" Though it was a threat, Tommy in no way thought Jack would be intimidated. Just as he suspected, the young man remained unfazed by his tone as he clumsily splashed iodine on a cotton square.

"You've always wanted more than any man could have. You loved and married an aristocrat who betrayed you because she wanted the clean version of you, and you wanted to be that clean version. I believe we'd call that a pacemaker of sorts, someone to keep you going in a certain direction. Doesn't really work that way when you're the type to risk anything to meet your goal. But it was a good try. Be brave now," Jack said, mumbling the last part as he leaned in and focused on Tommy's arm. It was only a flesh wound, a narrowly missed shanking from a rival gang's guerilla attack turned into a jagged slash on his left bicep.

"You're an insufferable bastard," Tommy said finally.

"And you suffer plenty. Is that why you like me?" Jack's eyes shifted to meet the icy blue ones for a moment, and gave Tommy a cheeky smirk.

"When did I say I liked you?"

Jack thought to the many times they'd spent together in offices, various properties they owned, hotel rooms, and the occasional Bently. He nodded and gave a knowing smile.

"You're right. I'm presumptuous."

Jack could have just about anything he wanted- a spontaneous parade that would block traffic or a shady election alike. But despite their murky history, it was no secret that his favorite carrot on a stick was Tommy Shelby.

Jack would be dead if the tables were turned, and Jack had done what Tommy did to him. An attempt at betrayal that was now years old but still fresh in Tommy's mind by the power of something akin to regret. But Jack was a different breed of man, one that Tommy yet didn't have a grasp on.

"If you hadn't tried to betray me, you wouldn't be the opportunist I thought you were. And that would have been disappointing," said Jack after revealing what he knew back then, which was everything.

He didn't ask Tommy for so much as an apology. Instead, he was here handling Tommy like he was made of glass. Tapping the iodine against thickened skin was almost too gentle. It was unnecessary. Still, Tommy sat quietly and took it because it was past 1 AM now, and he was tired, and he liked it. In the glow of the kitchen lights, Tommy let his shoulders relax and his mind wander.

He always figured he'd end up at Jack's actual apartment. Not a safe house or his third most frequented London flat, but his real home. Thinking back to when Jack first opened the door, Tommy wondered if he'd gotten one over on the man. Jack looked surprised for a moment before rolling his eyes, holding the back door open, and telling Tommy the entry cost was getting his wound dressed. It wasn't every day he could outsmart Jack. Tommy spent a considerable amount of time pinpointing the address he'd been quietly holding onto for the better part of a year. Using it now gave away some leverage, but it was worth it to see this side of Jack, calm with the haze of sleepiness inside an equally quiet house.

Were they opposites? He often felt a pang of dreadful isolation, even when his family was bickering around Arrow house's large dining table. But Jack seemed so content in his home alone, not a soul around. He'd even sent his small staff of three away on holiday for the week to avoid being asked if he wanted tea throughout the day because it drove him up a wall.

Would he like to be in a place like this, Tommy thought? Padding through the house barefoot, a warming drink in hand. The bigness that signified luxury traded in for the gift of holding a conversation with someone in the next room and smell what's cooking from his bed. And with Jack. That would be something.

"That's why you let your guard down, isn't it?" Jack brought Tommy's mind back to the present as he finally secured the bandage. He always did that. "You're not usually this careless. Were you thinking about absolution? Did you see her again?"

"You talk too much. And thinking you're always right's going to get you killed."

"No, it's not. Aren't I right anyway?"

"No."

Jack hummed, looking Tommy over for a moment. He leaned down, one hand grasping Tommy's wrist, letting his fingertips graze over the delicate skin. The other found its place on Tommy's thigh, only the smallest indention made from his fingertips.

Jack leaned into him, centimeters away from allowing their lips to brush. Instead, he inhaled softly. His nose grazed against Tommy's cheek, then his jaw, down his neck to his collarbone then up again. Tommy could feel his heart rate speed up. How could this youngin possibly get a rise out of him like this?

"You don't smell like opium anymore, Tommy. I'm proud of you," Jack spoke softly in his ear and let his thumb stroke the inside of Tommy's wrist. Those for words made Tommy's chest leap. "That means you aren't hallucinating her because you're high. And it seems like a little more than just residual love."

"You shouldn't talk about her that way. You of all people don't have the right."

A warning.

Jack pulled away far enough to see the glossy eyes of the man he let in. It was a strange feeling to be looked at with undeserved tenderness, Tommy thought. Moreso, it was unusual to be cared for.

Are you sure you vetted your new house staff properly?

Did you take precautions at your new factory?

That ciggy's not your lunch, is it?

Whether in meetings, in passing, or on purpose, there were always questions for Tommy. And when Jack felt Tommy exceeded his usual recklessness, he let him know.

And now, Jack was asking more questions. Prying. He tilted his head slightly. A warning from Tommy Shelby wasn't to be taken lightly, no matter who you were. Jack just happened to take the weight in stride.

"I shouldn't talk about Grace like what?" Jack asked.

"Like you know how she was in this world, and how she stays with me now. You don't know anything about it."

"Tommy, you know I'm thankful to her for taking care of you. I was at the wedding, wasn't I? No ill will. This isn't about her anyway; it's about you. Who else do you talk to about her? You just keep it in, don't you?"

"Gonna refer me to another head doctor? Don't waste your breath," Tommy scoffed.

"I'm going to refer you to the best psychiatrists I know as long as we both shall live. I'll make you sick of me."

"Too late."

"Well, I have nothing to lose then."

Jack straightened, reminding Tommy that he was being held only because he missed the feeling as Jack went to the liquor cabinet. He muttered something under his breath as he grabbed two glasses. That's right.

Jack was condescending, smug, even mean at times when it came to business. But when it came to Tommy, the one who sat shirtless in his kitchen with his shoulders relaxed and eyes carefully observing him, Jack had never spoken words too sharp at him. It was unnecessary, Tommy thought, because he could take it. But perhaps it was more of Jack not wanting to treat him in a way that Tommy had to brace himself to take.

"That'll help you sleep," Jack said, placing the drink in his hand. Tommy stood, gulping the small amount of brandy with ease.

"Where am I sleeping?"

"So, you want to stay?" Jack raised an eyebrow. "I can call you a cab."

"Come off it, it's unbecoming to not host a guest in a house like this," Tommy motioned around him. The phrasing made Jack's cheeks warm. Unbecoming, like some sort of debutante being scolded.

"Is the most becoming thing to do offering you my bed?" Jack leaned in close once again, giving Tommy his big eyes full of faux innocence. When he wasn't in his high-end suits or talking quite frankly, Jack had to capacity to look adorable.

"Aren't you being presumptuous?" Tommy asked. Of all the things he could have said, Tommy didn't expect that to be the one that made Jack reel back like he'd been hit. The young man moved to lean against the wall and pointed to the stairs.

"I have several guest rooms. I don't know if the beds are turned down or what that even means, but they're there."  

It was late, Tommy remembered, and Jack wasn't energized enough to keep the banter going on. Not like this. Jack took a sip of his drink and waited for Tommy. He was always waiting for Tommy.

"Is your bed turned down?" Tommy asked.

"I just told you I don't know what that means," Jack said, setting down his glass then stretching. He let his arms rest above his head. The motion revealed a toned stomach and just how low on the hips Jack's cotton bottoms actually hung.

"So you'll have to come to check for yourself, old man."

At nearly 2 AM, the only thing either of them had the energy to do was sleep. Any other revelations about Jack would have to wait until morning, and Tommy wasn't disappointed.

As he moved Jack's head from his chest and arm from around his waist, Tommy found that Jack was dead to the world when asleep. He was also prepared no matter what, evident by the new toothbrush and folded note sitting in an empty glass on the bathroom counter. The message read, 'Tommy, suit in closet, red hanger.' Did Jack know he'd wake up before him? Tommy scoffed but dressed anyway.

"What the hell are you still doing here?" Jack said through a yawn as he stumbled into the dining room at noon, where Tommy was sitting with a book and a coffee cup.

"Do you want me to leave?"

"It's fine. Taking all that smoke in your lungs is probably going to kill you," Jack said, motioning to the cigarette that was still smoking in the small ashtray on the table while he passed through to the kitchen.

"Taking its time, isn't it?"

"Don't say that. You're the only one making this fun."

"What?"

"This whole race to the top we've got going on in this city. Or the world, I guess."

"You don't have a legacy you want to leave behind when you grow old," Tommy asked. A moment later, Jack was standing in front of him with two water glasses and no willingness to accept no as an answer when he encouraged Tommy to drink.

"I'm not growing old. Someone'll get wise and kill me off before that."

Jack was as confident about this as everything else he said. He was more cynical than Tommy thought. He thought back to the one time he asked the man about the war and if he fought. Jack's answer always intrigued Tommy. Jack averted his gaze, and before quickly changing the subject, he said, "Just a bit." Whatever happened, Tommy figured it changed him.

Jack sat and made no mention of how the table's head was always his place, but Tommy could have it for now. He pulled a pastry from a dish sitting in the middle of the table and placed it in his mouth to free his hands. One picked up the paper that had clearly been read through, and one shamelessly commandeered Tommy's coffee cup. A bite of the buttery crust washed down by the coffee that made him grimace gave Jack the energy to try and read the paper. Tommy watched as the young man shuffled the pages, becoming more disgruntled by the minute.

"Why did you do this?" He asked Tommy, exasperated as he tried to find which loose insert continued the front-page story. Once he gathered it, he folded it together correctly and took a large bite of his pastry, only to be interrupted. Tommy tried to smother his growing smile and laugh to no avail. "What?"

"You're a brat."

Jack's eyes widened. He blinked for a moment, both because he never expected Tommy of all people to call him that and because he'd never seen the gangster laugh so heartily before. His mouth still full, Jack asked to clarify,

"A brat?"

"Through and through. Fussy from the moment you woke up," Tommy chuckled again. Heat crept up Jack's neck and face, but he let himself huff in amusement.

"I'm just particular."

It was a surprisingly eventful news week- horse races fixed to perfection and hollow speeches from political figures made to the public. And yet Jack found himself more interested in the unchanging man before him. He rested his chin in his palm and took Tommy in.

It was true that he hadn't expected Tommy to show up on his doorstep. But, if Tommy hadn't found his address by now, he would have been disappointed. Showing up like he did, however... Well, Jack had wanted to invite him on his own accord.

The whole thing with the Changrettas and ultimately Solomons was finally over, and Tommy could come back to him in London. They'd planned to meet on Tuesday, something about golf. Yet here, Tommy was instead, being somewhat of a nuisance. He hadn't asked if he could smoke in the house and didn't ask where the coffee was before he made. Not to mention, he handled his grouchiness with a bite of his own. A smile reached Jack's eyes and radiated through his body- this was an excellent second choice. It was like Tommy belonged there.

Almost.

"Try not to look so enamored; it's off-putting," Tommy spoke, not looking up from his book on... political influence? Something happened...

Jack reached out and placed a hand on Tommy's neck. His fingers moved up to feel the texture of his ridiculous hair cut, finally earning a glance. Jack could only imagine what Tommy would look like if he actually grew it out. The newspaper was an afterthought as Jack leaned over from his chair and pressed his lips against Tommy's. Soft, chapped, and chaste, but just what he needed all the same.

"Do I put you off?"

"All the time."

"Why are you wearing this?" Jack's hand moved to the collar of Tommy's shirt. Well, the shirt he got Tommy. The suit itself was expensive; a Belgian tailor with magic hands met Jack's requirements from the light gray color to the silver cufflinks.

"Didn't you tell me to?"

"Mm, I did. But if you're staying, then I'm just going to get you out of it."

"So straightforward."

"Says the man whose means of seduction involve alcohol, white lies about petrol, and some variation of 'let's fuck.'"

"Didn't say it was a bad thing."

"I'm making more coffee."

Jack had only placed his (formerly Tommy's) mug on the counter when the well-dressed man caged him in from behind.

"Are you not going to keep your promise?"

By nature, Jack was fearless in a way that surprised Tommy. If one believes death to be an inevitable luxury, there isn't a situation that could faze them much. In Jack's mind, either the consequence was easy, i.e., death, or it was difficult but something he'd get over at some point. Either outcome led the young man to do precisely what he wanted always.

The first time they kissed, they stood in Jack's office. Tommy was leaned against his desk, and Jack wasn't shy about leaning into him. Now in Jack's kitchen, he held that same energy. Turning in Tommy's arms, Jack wasted no time pressing their lips together again, with the older man meeting him halfway.

Tommy wasn't exactly sure how Jack managed. His kisses were dangerous- straightforward yet teasing, intense yet languid. It was helped only by the fact that they fit well together. Hands cupped a young man's face as a bold pajama-clad thigh moved between legs to press against the front of trousers. Thoughts of money were pushed aside as an expensive waistcoat was clenched between eager fingers, now a simple tool with a single-use: making them closer.

Even when he was dangerously close to light-headed, Jack considered this a worthy moment to push himself. The short breaths passed between kisses would have to suffice for now. For all Tommy called Jack bold, the young man couldn't help but let out a chuckle at how expertly dominant Tommy could be. A hand pressed to the small of his back, moving Jack and his eager thigh that brushed against Tommy's trousers closer while kissing down his neck.

"Enough," Jack breathed. Tommy looked up, unsure what he meant until Jack pushed their lips against each other again and let his hands rest on Tommy's belt. "Do you want a bed or a couch? Because I could have you right now, and I will if we go further."

The couch was closer.

Tommy's ability to concentrate was dwindling with each undone button. Open-mouthed kisses landed on every inch of available skin, making it a battle of moving fast enough to continue and not getting overwhelmed by so much contact after being touch starved. Maybe that was Jack's strategy. Sharp pain sinking into his shoulder made Tommy wince. It was a reminder that he'd been gone for a while. It was illogical and unnecessary to aim for exclusivity in whatever they called their relationship. Surprisingly, that's what made it all the more desperate.

"If I have a craving for Tommy Shelby, it doesn't matter who's around."

Jack ran a tongue over the indents of his canines and dragged it up his neck to stop and bite Tommy's earlobe.

"Hurry up," he breathed his command.

xx

"Did something happen?"

"When?"

"I don't know." Jack shrugged and tapped his cheek. Irritatingly patient, he was. They were in front of the fireplace in the den now, a fur blanket draped over them both as they laid in their underwear.  Early afternoon sun poured through the windows, illuminating the swirling smoke that left Tommy's lips.

"Then why ask?"

"Because I could know, but I always like to give you a chance to tell me voluntarily. It makes me feel less like you'd be lying to me every day if you could," Jack said, always casual, before stealing Tommy's cigarette. "Go ahead."

It wasn't that Tommy was interested in lying to the man all the time. In this instance, it was more that this was a problem Tommy got himself into and had to get himself out of. A problem that Jack had no doubt predicted like he predicted everything. Tommy thought back to his business with the Russians. Jack's first time in the Shelby Company Ltd. offices and Tommy's first time seeing the young man's face drop happened concurrently.

"Tommy," Jack almost sang his name, which only added to the tension. Tommy was a child about to be scolded for doing something he shouldn't have. "Am I too boring for you, Tommy? You had to go to the Russians?"

"A pest, always. Not boring though," Tommy said as he cleared his throat. He went to light his cigarette, giving it more concentration than required. Looking up, Tommy almost paused at the expression in Jack's eyes. There was no smile, genuine or otherwise, only the man he'd heard the haunting rumors about. What was the look he was getting? Annoyance? Disbelief? Frustration?

Instead of speaking on whatever it was, Jack placed a hand over his mouth and looked away. He swore under his breath and mumbled a few words before looking back. Maybe Jack should have told Tommy he was stupid and that the plan wasn't worth it. Doing something like this would be the nail in the coffin for any hopes of an utterly above-board business. But Jack, for once, chose his battle.

"That Tatiana Petrovna knows everything about you. The details of you being a widow, your brand of tobacco, the way you like to sin," Jack said instead. "And don't leave any weapons around. She's crazy."

Jack was good at being one step ahead or quickly recognizing when he wasn't and course correcting. But, though Tommy knew Jack wasn't a stranger to killing a man point-blank, there was still a grit that he was missing. Too eloquent and methodical to handle the Italians from New York. So he told Jack everything and how he was victorious using his Romani prowess. Jack wasn't the only strong one.

"Ah, so you're here because Polly threatened to lock you out of the safes again if you didn't take a holiday," Jack mused. That was his real question from earlier. Why the hell are you still here?

"Something like that." Tommy nodded.

"What are you going to do when you start shaking again? And hearing things?" Jack asked, offering the cigarette to its original owner.

"I'll deal with it if it happens, and it might. Nothing gin can't fix," Tommy said. He reached for the cigarette, only for it to be snatched away and tossed into the flames.

"That was a test. You failed." Jack rolled to his side, propping himself up on his forearm.

"I'm not sick, hm? I've shut the door on the war. I'm not Arthur. I can manage." Tommy could feel himself warming with anger, no, defensiveness at the idea that everything he did was to be questioned.

"I'm not letting you run around here like a dog catching rabies."

"You don't have a say in as much as you think you do," Tommy reminded him. Jack smiled in response, his eyes lightening up. He shifted his fingers then brought them to Tommy's temple in the shape of a gun.

"Go to a doctor, or I'll kill you myself. Bang."

He made a shooting motion then pulled his hand away, blowing imaginary smoke from his fingers. Tommy wondered if Jack ever made jokes. No matter his tone of voice, he always said what he meant and meant what he said. There was no getting out of this.

"What, are you my father now?

"Would you like that?"

"Christ,"

"Not quite him, either."

--

Tommy Tag: @soleil-dor;  @amysteryspot​; @captivatedbycillianmurphy

Peaky Blinders Tag List: @lilymurphy03

[im-like-if-a-girl]

*THE* mean-girl-dean-girl's Supernatural reboot MEGAPOST!

I'm gonna stick a little "keeping reading" here because hoooooo boy, this is a very long post.

Let's start with

Plot

Season 1

Dean kills John while they are out on a hunt in a crime of passion, but Dean doesn't remember because he blacked out. Cue Dean going to Stanford to get Sam and tell him "Dad's on a hunting trip... and he hasn't been home in a couple days."

The audience doesn't know what happened to John, but slowly figures it out with Dean and Sam as Dean slowly remembers what happened that night.

The entire first season, the boys are following the trail John left and fighting monsters as well. They find out Dean was with John, Sam realizes Dean has an unreliable memory, they have heart to hearts about their childhood and the fire, they find John's body, "how could you kill Dad?" but maybe Dean didn't kill dad, whooaaaaaa, misdirection.

It was actually good ole yeller eyes (Azazel) and he made it look like Dean killed John.

Okay, now let's move on to the first episode

Not sure how the opening would work, I would like the story of the fire to be revealed over the course of the first season, but maybe the opening scene could be a little bit of an establishing character relationships and backstory, idk, I haven't thought that far yet.

I'm thinking maybe it's like, Dean gets back to a motel room covered in blood and he listens to a voicemail on his phone from John saying he was on a hunt or something, I don't really know lol.

HOWEVER

I do know that after the intro rolls, we get a scene of Sam waking up to his alarm and "Nine to Five" by Dolly Parton starts playing.

Y'all know where this is going.

Cue a montage of Sam's normal Stanford college life (him sitting through lectures, walking through the campus with friends) spliced with scenes of Dean absolutely slaughtering a nest of vampires (or some other monsters, whatever works best.)

But

Now onto

Characters!!! (And descriptions)

Dean Winchester

Some lovely person on this site made edits of Dean with platinum blond hair and it made me feel some kind of way so we're doing that, homie's gonna have platinum blond hair

Side note about the hair, later when the brothers are running from the FBI he dyes it a dirty blond/light brown (insert jackles hair color controversy here) as a disguise.

He also gets tattoos because we were robbed.

Speaking of tattoos, concept: when Dean comes back from Hell, all of his tattoos are gone. His body is a clean slate, devoid of tattoos, scars, etc. So he gets his tattoos done all over again, which he doesn't mind because he made some bad, drunk tattoo decisions in his youth.

(And before you ask, yes, he does get one for Cas, either a bee or Cas's name in enochian, something cute.)

Dean goes to therapy after Sam gets sent to the Cage.

It's actually court mandated because he got in trouble, lol, he would never go to therapy on his own.

Along with the hair, Dean gets to be the grade A twunk we all know he is.

Sam Winchester

His hair gets longer in every scene he's in

No jk, but imagine

King of Microaggressions

Sam starts off like the sweetheart he is in season 1 but in later seasons he starts enjoying killing a little too much...

It's that demon blood, ba-by!!!

He brings up issues of morality to Dean, i.e. killing monsters who aren't hurting anyone. (Yes I know this is contradictory to my previous statement, but these two facets of Sam can and will coexist.)

Sam and Jess's relationship is explored further, meaning we'll need to start with a different inciting incident, but that's fine, I think everyone can agree fridgings are *(thumbs down)*

Sam doesn't truly know what happened the night of the fire until later, and then he understands why Dean is so protective of him.

Jess

She gets to live beyond the first episode

She is also trans

No, I don't feel like I have to explain myself and I won't 💜

She urges Sam to join Dean in a search for their brother, kind of gets pulled into the hunter lifestyle by association lol.

She dies on a rusty nail after fighting vampires on a routine hunt with Sam

No jk!!!

But imagine....

She's amazing and I love her and Lucifer also uses her as leverage against Sam and possesses her because I think that'd be cool.

She supports Sam 100% and also she and Dean are buddies, pals if you will.

She meets Cas Thee El and immediately she Knows, that is a homosexual.

She dies still so that we can have a Saileen Endgame but she's not dying the first episode or in a fridging. Not on my watch.

Castiel

He gets to keep his raw, light-fixture-exploding power.

I want more of that "I pulled you out of hell, I can throw you back in" energy except over dumb shit like Dean not cleaning up after himself.

He looks like a Dilf in every scene he's in, yeah, that's right, dilf with a capital D for *(GUNSHOTS)* *(gets sent to horny jail)*

Claire

She gets pink hair

And more time with Cas

And maybe a nose piercing

Feel like she should be able to kill a couple angels onscreen, punch a couple homophobes

She gets to meet Jack and teaches him swears and fun slang words.

She deserves it.

Jack

I says "that's my baby and I'm proud."

Jack starts off as a baby, but like Amara he grows up super quickly.

Like, baby to 11 year old in a couple days or less.

This is because Jack's emotional age on the show is on par with that of a 5th grader.

It's at this point when he's a young kid that he runs away from the Bunker and shenanigans ensue.

It's also at this point that Dean threatens to k*ll him.

(Still not sure if I want that in my Supernatural (threatened infanticide? In my Supernatural? It's more likely than you think) but we'll see. We'll see.)

Throughout a majority of season 13, Jack is like an 11 y.o. kid

Season 14 he's like a 16 y.o. teenager

Season 15 he's 21, you get the picture.

Listen, I love Alex Calvert a lot. He's great.

But Jack is a child and should be a child.

Kelly Kline

Kelly, baby, stay right where you are, you're perfect.

Eileen

SHE DOESN'T DIE

SHE GETS TO BE IN THE FINALE BECAUSE SHE'S AMAZING AND I LOVE HER.

BLURRY WIFE WHO? I ONLY KNOW SAILEEN ENDGAME!

She teaches Claire and Jack swears in sign-language. Castiel is not impressed.

John

J*hn W*nchester stans, DNI.

He's dead.

We only see him in flashbacks and only sometimes hear his voice in voice overs.

He's not "down the road" from Dean in Heaven, in fact he instead gets to wander around in some Purgatory like Hell for the rest of his time :)

People who get to say "fuck" on the show:

Cas (but only Once)

Jody

Bobby

Now onto other things

I want more of

Ghostfacers

(they need more screentime because I love them)

Dean/Benny

We know they had a thing.

They definitely had a thing.

Demon Dean

Again, I feel like more should've been done with this. All that build up for what, 2 episodes? was not utilized well at all.

Dean's Bisexuality

Straight Dean truthers DNI, my Supernatural is a show about love and being true to yourself

You think Supernatural is a show about 2 straight brothers fighting monsters?

Naw bitch, this is a show about the Gay Experience

He will get to have relations with men on this show.

Of course, only after John dies does he, y'know, display it. Maybe he kisses Cas on his dad's grave just to fuck John over, make him roll in grave.

We all agree John would be/is a homophobe piece of shit, right?

Okay, glad we're on the same page.

Dads

3 men and a baby with Jack is what I'm saying.

I love it when the Trio are father-figures to younger troubled characters they see themselves in, even better if it's like reluctant-but-loving father figure, oh, that trope gets me every time :'^)

Dadstiel and DadDean are my favorites, but I like it when Sam plays "Uncle Sam" to kids too lol.

"Fellas, is it gay to want a tight knit family with your husband, his son, his vessel's daughter, your brother, his wife, your cop mother figure and her wife and their adopted daughters? Asking for a friend."

Garth

Biggest flaw of Supernatural was underutilizing Garth.

I will never not be bitter that Garth was only in like, 7 episodes out of the whole 15 season series.

Every episode with Garth gets immediately 5 times better.

I love Garth.

Follow ups on characters who had entire episodes featured around them and then just... vanished???

This is mostly about Jesse, the magic kid whose imagination ruled an entire town like, his daddy was a demon and nothing came of that kid??? Only one episode about him?? No follow up???

KID CAN MANIPULATE REALITY AND WE'RE NOT GONNA GET A FOLLOW UP ON THAT?????

Uh, there was that one episode with Ennis the guy whose girlfriend was killed by a monster? I think?? Who we never see again, that was weird.

Tamara from season 3, episode 1.

And of course-

Cassie

She was so cool, and then we never saw her again :////

She gets to be a badass.

Religious imagery

As a former Catholic school student who has become for the most part, disillusioned with religion, religious imagery in TV shows like Supernatural make my brain go "brrrrrr."

Fun episodes!!!

Like, after season 6 or so, there's a drop in funny episodes

I'm talking Changing Channels, The French Mistake type stuff. (Scoobynatural is an outlier and should not be counted.)

So anyway

In my version we would have more fun episodes

I'm thinking

GENDER-SWAP EPISODE, BABY!!

(why they didn't do that in the original, we'll never know.)

An episode where Dean gets to wear eyeliner

That's it, end of post.

I want less

Racism

Yeah I feel like this is self explanatory, nearly every reoccurring character in SPN is white, and black side characters normally die in the episode they first appear in, or they'll be featured as a villain (Uriel, Raphael, Billie, etc)

Also there's a lot of... uh... asian fetishism featured in the show (what with "Busty Asian Beauties) that's really gross, also Kevin was a bit of a stereotype...

Also also it's super yucky how they kill the gods from other religions like???? Uh??? That's super disrespectful, let's not do that????

I know Supernatural is like, inherently racist because monsters are a separate race that are seen as some dangerous "other" that must be eradicated by hunters in a form of genocide-

Okay we won't get into that but

Still

Stop killing all your POC

Fridgings/Unecessary murders of female characters

I know Supernatural starts with a fridging, so this will be a hard thing to remedy, but

One death that really pissed me off was the death of Charlie

Yeah, that was pointless and we're not doing that. Charlie gets to live and be an awesome aunt to Jack.

And also Claire

Charlie Bradbury Superiority

Charlie and Garth get to meet because they're nerd/geek solidarity.

British Men of Letters

I fucking hate these guys

They're "litcherally" the worst.

The worst part is that the actors they have playing the British AREN'T. EVEN. BRITISH.

And you can tell

Uh, and that's all for now, I'll add more later.

tag list for people who liked my "if this post gets one like I'll post my SPN reboot masterpost" post.

@darianyunidi @sarasidlesaid @crazybananaalpaca @playfulpanthress @ultfreakme @fififeelsmellow @heller-char @luna8eaton @princessmeganfire @insanebot109 @queenofnightsnow @mongoose-underthehouse

Thank you for the support, hope the wait was worth it.

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

The Love Cruise - by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Read on AO3: Chapter 1

Or on FF

Tagging: @kmomof4 @lfh1226-linda @teamhook

Summary:

When Emma Swan’s boss & co-workers decided they are tired of waiting for her to start dating again, they reluctantly convince her to join them on The Love Cruise, a new experience where singles go to meet and flirt their cares away in the middle of the ocean. Dragging her brother, David along for the ride, she embarked on a two-week adventure that was about to change her life.

Killian Jones, former Navy Lieutenant and widower, swore off dating for the rest of his life. Which is why when his best friend Robin convinced him to take a job as the Captain of the newest ship in the fleet, a floating dating cesspool of horny men and women, it seemed a cruel twist of fate. Little did he know, one of the guests about to board his ship, would alter his own course in life forever.

Chapter 1: The Adventure of a Lifetime

“First he runs off and gets married and then he goes and gets himself a promotion. I guess you would say the world is his oyster.”

“Or he’s having his cake and eating it to.” The man at the back of the bar shouts.

“Aye, so today as we celebrate, I want everyone to raise your glass to our newest Lieutenant, and my little brother, Killian Jones. I’m so proud of you.”

“To Killian Jones.” The crowd roared.

 5 years later

“That’s not how I remember it at all, I’m pretty sure you were the one who walked in on them.”

“I would have remembered that.”

“I doubt that, you were drunk as a skunk and before you left the room, you yelled to the poor girl, and I quote, I'm no weatherman but I know you're going to get 3 inches tonight.”

“God, I thought you said that.”

“That was all you man, I thought the Captain was gonna throw you in the brig.”

“I’m pretty sure Liam saved my ass that night.” Killian laughed, remembering how many times his brother kept him out of trouble in his years in the Navy.

“I think Liam saved your ass most nights.”

“Aye.” He nodded sadly and Robin held up his glass.

“To Liam, gone too soon.”

“To Liam.” He swallowed the warm liquid, gulping it down and putting his glass back on the table in front of him. “I can’t believe it’s been two years.” He added solemnly, memories of his brother’s urn as he was released out to sea, being presented with the flag, the sound of each pop of the as the rifles went off, staring out to sea to the sound of the bugle.

“Sometimes it feels like yesterday.” Robin responded and Killian closed his eyes, pinched his nose, before shaking off the memories and waiving the waitress over for another order. “So, what’s your next move?”

Killian sighed. “I don’t know yet, I’ve got a few interviews this week.”

Robin cut him off, “Cancel them.”

“I’m sorry, you want me to cancel all my interviews?”

“Yes, cancel them, I have a great opportunity for both of us.”

“Working together?”

“Yes, I told you that I got a job last week, right? Well, they need a Captain and I put in a good word for you.” Killian knew he had gotten some amazing opportunity the last time they spoke on the phone, but he didn’t provide many details on what exactly that opportunity was.

“What’s the catch?” Killian regarded him suspiciously.

“Why does there have to be a catch?” He smiled innocently.

“Because you would have told me about it sooner unless you’ve been trying to figure out the best way to bring it up. And you conveniently chose a night when we have been drinking heavily, so that tells me there is a catch, Rob. So, spit it out.”

“Ok, so there’s a catch, but hear me out first.” Killian groaned but put his hand to his lips with a locking motion and gestured for him to continue. “She’s the newest ship in the fleet, top of the line technology, she would be any Captain’s wet dream to sail.” Killian chuckled, sitting up on his stool. “3600 passengers, 1300 crew members, including the best purser any ship could ask for.” He grinned widely pointing to himself.

“Get to the part where you tell me this ship sails to the Underworld and has an excursion to visit Hades himself or some other ungodly reason to explain why you waited til I was piss drunk to ask me.”

“Ok, but I haven’t even told you about the size of the Captain’s quarters yet…” Robin frowned as he shifted impatiently in his seat. “Alright, it’s the maiden voyage of…” He covered his mouth, “The wurv ruse.”

“I’m sorry what?”

“Fine, it’s a Love Cruise.” He shouted louder than he meant to. “One of those singles cruises where people go to meet each other.”

He tossed a brochure down onto the table and Killian flipped through it, his groan vibrating as he read the tag line out loud. “The Love Cruise, where singles meet on the adventure of a lifetime. Don’t you deserve a little TLC.” He tossed the brochure onto the table. “Oh, bloody hell.” He cursed. “Ma’am…” He gestured for the waitress. “I’m not fucking drunk enough to listen to this man anymore, if you could please bring a few more of those shots as quick as possible and make them doubles.” He added before turning back to Robin. “Are you out of your mind? What would give you the foggiest reason to think I would be interested in this?”

“It’s not like you would be signing up to be part of the singles cruise, you would just Captain her.”

“Why are you doing this?” He asked suspiciously. “You and Marian have been divorced for years and it’s not like you’re desperate for women.” His friend glanced to the table and Killian knew there was more he wasn’t telling him. “Out with it.”

“You know that woman I met last year?”

Killian chuckled, “How long do I have to answer, mate. You’re going to have to be more specific than that?”

“You’re hilarious. No, remember that entertainer I met when we took that cruise to Mexico last year, Regina Mills.”

“The lass we met who threw her drink in your face and told you to get lost? How can I forget, she’s given me months of pleasure just thinking about that moment.”

“Anyway, they hired her as the Cruise Director for this sailing, and it’s my opportunity to actually get to know her. You know because she won’t have anywhere else to go to continue avoiding me.”

“So, your selling point is that if I Captain this ship, I might get to see this woman destroy you on a daily basis?”

“Would it convince you to say yes?”

“I don’t know.”

“Killian it’s been three years. If you want to be celibate for the rest of your life, that’s your business, but you’d be an idiot to pass up this opportunity.” He pulled a piece of paper out of his jacket and slid it across the table. On it was a six-figure dollar amount, Killian grabbed the paper and pulled it closer to his face.

“How many years is the contract for this amount?”

“That’s per year, Killian.”

“Bloody hell.”

“It’s a lot more than the Navy paid us, and no one is going to be trying to sink our ship.”

He pushed the paper back across the table to Robin. “I just don’t know if this is a good idea, I have responsibilities here.”

“Brother, Milah wouldn’t want you hiding out on that damn houseboat, rotting away in your own depression. She’d kick you in the ass and tell you that you were being a bloody prat for walking away from this kind of opportunity.”

“Don’t invoke my dead wife, Mate.” He said angrily. Robin raised his hands in defeat and Killian knew he meant no harm. He sighed and looked over at the paper again. It was more money than he had seen in his entire life, and it was a real ship. He’d been working as Skipper on a fishing skiff for the last year, and while he enjoyed the security of being out on the water, it sure didn’t pay much.

“You know there’s no rule that says the Captain has to date the passengers, in fact, I’m pretty sure they frown on that type of behavior?”

“I get that, but I don’t particularly want to watch all the debauchery either.”

“I told you the Captain’s quarters are huge, right?”

“And they know about my hand?” He looked down at his scarred hand, he had lost the full use of it on one of the worst nights of his life, the night he lost his brother.

“They don’t care, you are a skilled Captain, trust me, they are very interested in you, Killian. All you have to do is be at the interview tomorrow, and the job is yours.”

Killian groaned, “I’ll sleep on it.” Judging by the smile his friend was displaying on the other end of the table, he already knew that Killian was going to show up to that interview.

~*~

“Have you seen that guy before?” Ruby walked over to Emma’s spot by the front door.

Emma glanced to the end of the bar. She hadn’t noticed the man until Ruby pointed him out. He wasn’t familiar to her, he was very nice looking, but also very intoxicated. “Don’t recognize him, but Will needs to cut him off.”

“That’s what you’re focused on, instead of how hot he is or the fact he’s new in town?”

“He’s ok, I guess. But honestly, I’m going to go tell Will to stop serving him. I don’t want to have to throw him out later.”

“Boo, you’re so boring, Emma.”

Emma turned and flashed her friend the middle finger before approaching the bar. “Hey, brown suede jacket.” She pointed to the man at the end of the bar. “How many has he had?”

“Oi, I was thinking of cutting him off. He’s been nursing that beer for an hour, but the three shots he drank with them seem to have accelerated his inebriation.”

“Yeah, cut him off, he’s swaying in his seat, let me know if he gives you any trouble.”

Emma walked back toward the door, surveying the tables as she walked past. She’d been working at The Wooden Nickle since moving back to Boston from New York almost seven years ago. Working nights as a bouncer wasn’t the most prestigious job in the world, but it allowed her to spend her days with her 6-year-old son, Henry.

“Everything good down here?”

Emma turned to see her boss; August Booth walking down the stairs from the above office. “Yeah, got a live one at the bar, Will’s already cut him off. I had to break up the two over at the pool table a few times.” She gestured to the man and woman currently making out against the wall. “I’m gonna head back there in a minute, before they start losing clothes.”

“I can always count on you, Emma.” August gave her a light tap on the shoulder and then headed back upstairs. “Tell everyone I want to talk to them before we shut down tonight.”

“Everything alright, boss?” He nodded with a mischievous smile and then bounded up the stairs.

She loved working for August. When she moved back to Boston, she hadn’t maintained a relationship with anyone except her brother, David, and her high school friends, Ruby and Will. Moving to a small town meant her skills as a bail bond agent wasn’t exactly needed, but August found room for her as a bouncer at his tiny but very busy bar. He’d treated her like family ever since.

She passed through the room, pausing at the couple in the back, to break up their make out session and then stopped at the bar. “Aug wants to talk to all of us after we close up.”

“Oi, did he seem upset? Shit, I bet he knows I was nipping at the whiskey last week.”

“What are we talking about?” Ruby approached and sat down her tray on the bar top. “Are we drinking whiskey?”

Emma laughed. “Aug wants to talk to all of us tonight, so I would probably say no, right?”

“That was a question, not a demand, so I say one shot can’t hurt us. If we’re all about to be canned, I want to take the news with some liquid courage.”

“You’ll use any excuse to drink whiskey.” Ruby mocked as he lined up the shots and poured. They each tossed back the glass and slammed it down on the bar.

“Ok get back to work.” She demanded with a smirk and headed back to the door to prepare for the close of shift. It was her favorite part of work, watching as the patrons exited the bar, some joyfully laughing, others grumbling with complaints of the upcoming next day, but mostly it was the time when they were alone, simply cleaning the bar and laughing together that she cherished the most. This was her family, and she loved them dearly.

“All clear.” She hollered an hour later as she finished helping the tipsy customer to a cab and reminded the overly zealous couple to remember condoms.

Ruby turned up the volume on the music and they spent the next hour cleaning the bar, Ruby dancing with her broomstick, Will singing loudly into the beer tap, and Emma watching them all with a smile as she wiped down the tables. She could hardly believe how much her life had changed in the last seven years. Ruby referred to these last few years as the years AN.

After Neal.

She had been devastated when Neal took off, draining their savings account of the money she had earned, leaving her alone and pregnant in New York City. Two months later, she came home with her tail between her legs, everything she owned in her tiny yellow beetle, and was left to explain to her brother David, that things with her and Neal had gone exactly how he had predicted they would.

She had been mortified to venture out of the home she shared with David for fear of judgement from their small town. Instead, she was embraced by old friends who came out of the woodwork to donate baby clothes, feed her, and offer emotional support.

“When did I start paying you lot to have a good time?” August boomed from across the room before breaking out into a smile and pulling Emma into his arms to dance across the room. He spun her around as they reached Ruby, switching to dance with the brunette until the song ended.

“The place looks great as usual.” He remarked to the three of them as he hopped onto one of the bar stools. “Come on, lets all chat.” Will gulped and August laughed. “This isn’t about the whiskey, Will.”

“What whiskey?” Will mimed. “I haven’t the foggiest idea…”

“I’m closing the bar.” Emma’s heart dropped. August sat solemnly looking down at his hands. He looked up peering around the room as a smile grew on his mouth. “For two weeks,” he added, “and before you all freak out on me, I’m still paying you.”

Emma breathed out a sigh of relief. Losing two weeks of pay would have killed her. She lived paycheck to paycheck trying to raise her son, missing a single day was enough to give her anxiety.

“On one condition.” He added and everyone in the group exchanged cautious glances. “We’ve all been working really hard and I wouldn’t have any of this if you all didn’t come to work every single day, even with William drinking my whiskey.” Will ducked his head. “However as much as I love you guys, I’m really tired of being alone.”

Emma was surprised to hear how sad August’s voice sounded; she knew he had been alone at home after his father Marco had passed. Emma had never heard of August going on any dates, or ever being involved with anyone romantically. But Emma wasn’t one to talk about putting yourself out there, she hadn’t dated or wanted to date anyone since Neal ran out on her.

“And let’s be honest,” August continued, “you lot don’t get out much either.”

“Hey, I’m just waiting until Ana comes around.” Will argued and she snorted to herself. Ana was Will’s ex-girlfriend. She had packed up and left town a year ago, leaving only a note stating it was over and she was moving to England with a guy she met online. Everyone knew it was over, except for Will. He still had his Facebook relationship status as “It’s complicated.”

“She’s gone man, it’s time to move on.” August said seriously. “And Ruby, I mean no offense when I say this, but you’ve practically dated everyone in town, present company excluded.”

“Speak for yourself, we went on a date once.” Will announced.

“That was a field trip you idiot, and the rest of the school was with us.”

“Ok but my point is, no one in town has been worthy of your affection.” August interrupted and then turned to her, “And Emma.”

“Don’t even go there, I have a six-year-old kid, I don’t have time for another child in my life.”

“Well, here it is, I’m going on a cruise for two weeks. And I’m willing to pay you each your two-week salary, as long as you come with me.”

“Oi, do you think you pay us enough money to afford to go on some fancy cruise ship?”

“Nope, that’s why I’m paying for that too.” He stared at Emma. “But it has to be all or nothing. Either you all come, or you all get a two-week unpaid vacation.”

“That’s hardly fair.” Emma complained. “I can’t just walk away for two weeks, Henry needs me.”

“First off, I already know that he’s about to head to summer camp for four weeks, so your excuse doesn’t exactly work.” Emma crossed her arms against her chest, she hadn’t expected him to know about that. “Ok, one excuse down, who’s next?”

“You aren’t going to get one from me. If you want to pay me to go on a cruise, I’m down.” Ruby hopped up on the bar.

“What’s the catch, Mate? Two weeks pay, a cruise vacation, something’s not adding up here.” Emma had to agree with Will, he wasn’t telling them the entire truth.

“Fine, it’s a singles cruise.”

“No way, I’m out.” Emma grunted, as she furiously wiped down the table in front of her for the second time that evening.

“Oh, come on Emma, who cares? There is nothing that says you have to hook up with anyone there.” Ruby pleaded, “I really want to try out my new bikini I bought last week. It would look so much better on a cruise ship than it would on our stupid beach.”

“I can’t go on a single’s cruise, I’m not single.” Will argued.

“She dumped you.” The three of them all shouted in unison.

“Come on you guys, we can all be there together, and just have fun.” Ruby continued to plead her case.

“Did I mention the alcohol is all paid for up front?” August announced with a wink.

“Bloody hell, I’m in.”

Suddenly all eyes were on here. “Please Emma.” Ruby whined.

“Free Alcohol, lass. We can just sit at the damn bar and drink all day. I’ll be your date.” Will flirted from the back of the bar.

“Brining a date would defeat the singles part, don’t you think?”

“Emma, you’re out of excuses.” August shrugged.

“Fine. But I have one condition.” She said angrily, coming up with a fool proof plan to get out of going. “If I’m going to be forced to go on this trip, then I’m not going without David.”

August laughed and surprisingly shook his head. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Dammit.

[peeterparkr]

limits of desire⤳t.h.||epilogue

Epilogue: Wallking down an aisle. 

story summary: you met Tom a night he was trying to sleep with you, it didn’t work and you became best of friends. Wedding bells might be ringing for when you both realize what you really feel.

summary: the one with the wedding and the magazine article

pairing: fuckboy!tom holland x best friend!reader

warnings: hmm an article, swearing, julia roberts, fluff :)

word count: 5.K

previous chapter series masterlist Here’s my new story! Perfidy (enemies to lovers)  a one shot after this: Tom’s proposal

Anyway, thanks for sticking up to this story, for giving it a chance and for the support. I’m super sad it’s ending but I’m glad you guys stuck asdlas love you.

Your wedding day, according to movies and books, is the best day of your life. The bride is blushing and glowing and everything goes perfect. But, that is usually not the case, not in real life, at least. Because you’ll see shoes flying and people screaming and running around a room. People rushing in with the bride and calling the groom.  

Lizzie was staring at the clock in her phone, she was calling everyone, y/n was nowhere to be found and she needed her friend. There were a lot of things to do, and y/n had promised to be there at 7 am sharp. 

It was a good thing Lizzie had not made a mistake in choosing Mexico as the location, knowing it meant a lot of drama involved with y/n, but there could’ve been a reason behind it. Where things had ended for y/n happened to be the place where it had started for Lizzie. 

Lizzie was, in all matters, freaking out. Her mother and sisters were overwhelming her with questions and picking her hair and running around her room. But none of them mattered, she needed her very best friend. But she thought that maybe y/n wasn’t feeling her best. Lizzie thought about this, was y/n having a breakdown over this? 

She thought that maybe y/n wasn’t exactly fine with weddings. Sure, she’d been writing about this for a while now, but it wasn’t the same writing about it than living on it. 

But this was Lizzie’s big day, she couldn’t possibly be bothered by it, should she? But she wanted her best friend to be along with her. 

Lizzie was getting married. 

It was 8 am, where the hell was she? That’s all Lizzie could think about. And she wasn’t the only one who was late, Hannah and Jess were late too. Great friends Lizzie had. 

But Lizzie, she hadn’t told anyone, was having second thoughts. She was too nervous for this. Because the stylist wasn’t there yet, her bridesmaids’ dresses had arrived in a different colour, red, not pink. Red. And because the venue had called her wedding planner and told her there had been an issue with the salmon and now they were serving chicken. 

Everything was going bollocks. 

Lizzie was having an attack, but it seemed like her prayers had come true because Hannah and Jess had walked in, with their dresses in their hands and makeup bags. 

“I’m sorry we’re late!” Hannah said. “Y/N’s new article was published!” Hannah waved the magazine in her hand. 

Lizzie blinked and frowned. “What?” 

Jess nudged Hannah. “Sorry, no, that’s not why we’re late. We went to pick up the dresses” 

Hannah widened her eyes and left the magazine on the bed. 

“Where the hell is y/n?” Asked Lizzie. “I can’t seem to reach her, it sends me to fucking voicemail!” 

Jess and Hannah side-eyed each other. 

“Didn’t you see her insta story?” Hannah asked and Jess nudged her again. 

“What? No! I’ve been kinda busy! Where the hell is she?” Asked Lizzie. “Gosh I need her, she’ll be able to calm me down! Did she… Did she run away? Some shit like that?” 

“No! No, but last night-” Hannah started

“Shut up!” Jess glared at Hannah. “She’ll be here, don’t worry,” Jess assured her. “She went to look for another stylist because we were told Jamie hadn’t arrived yet.” 

Lizzie stood up. “Alright.” They all watched her. “Alright.” Lizzie took a deep breath. “I can’t do this.” 

“What?” Lizzie’s mother questioned. 

“Call Harrison, I can’t do this.” 

“No, no,” Hannah walked over as Lizzie’s sisters were also trying to calm her down. 

“It’s okay, Lizzie, you’re just stressed out, it’ll be okay,” Jess started. 

“Everyone, please just leave, I need a moment to myself,” Lizzie explained. 

“C’mon, Liz!” Hannah insisted. 

The wedding planner stepped in. “No, no, she’s right, give her some time, everyone out,” she ordered and the room that was once full of bustle was now too quiet. 

Lizzie plopped on her bed, and snuggled into her white rob and then stared at the dress. Was she able to do this? 

She felt butterflies and knives at the same time. She was unsafe. She needed to talk to y/n, who had been there all along. Y/N had been the perfect maid of honour, even if Lizzie had initially been reluctant after complaining about Y/N choosing Tom over her on her first wedding. 

Lizzie knew hadn’t really talked about how it felt to be about to get married, partly, Lizzie knew, it had to do a little bit with the fact that y/n wanted to marry her maid of honour instead. It came with the territory. 

But Lizzie was having second thoughts because she did want to get married but it seemed like the universe was telling her not to. The salmon? The stylist? It had to mean something. Because she had planned this wedding perfectly. If there was something going wrong, it meant her marriage was going to go wrong, right? 

She tried ringing her friend again and it sent straight to voicemail. She went on Instagram to see if Y/N’s story could solve anything. There was no new Instagram story, not for her close friends, and no new one. Had y/n blocked her? Was y/n having a crisis due to the wedding? 

Maybe asking y/n to be her maid of honour hadn’t been the best idea, after all y/n used to call herself the runaway bride and Lizzie was sure that Y/N probably didn’t want to do anything else with weddings. Even if she wrote a wedding column in a magazine. 

She knew that today was supposedly a very important day for y/n’s column on the magazine, apparently, y/n was now going to be promoted as to one of the usuals and not only a dumb column. An editor, maybe? Lizzie didn’t know, her head had been too busy planning a wedding that she hadn’t really paid attention to her best friend. 

She stared at the magazine that Hannah had left there, lying on top of the white blanket.  Lizzie frowned, did she have to read her best friend’s column? 

She sighed, she did. It was the closest thing to having her best friend beside her. She opened the magazine to a beautiful shot of her best friend wearing a wedding dress with running shoes, surrounded by some DVDs and cassettes of old Julia Roberts’ movies. 

The Runaway Bride, the title was in a big, elegant pink font. It wasn’t like her usual columns, small and with barely a page of it. This was a long article. Lizzie smiled, proud of y/n and then proceeded to read it. 

Tom knew that Haz himself had had his doubts too if he was honest to himself. Harrison was freaking out and he knew that there was a big chance that Lizzie had wanted to back up. Tom had been the one to calm him down. 

“It’s gonna be okay!” 

“What do you know?” Haz had snapped. “First, thanks for being bloody late. Why were you late?” 

Tom cleared his throat. “There was a problem with your bride’s stylist and I helped y/n to find a new one.” 

“Because they have to do everything together now, remember?” Sam teased, making Tuwaine and Harry giggle. 

“Shut up,” Tom blushed but then coughed away his embarrassment.

“And why did you leave early yesterday?” Haz questioned. 

Tuwaine and the twins widened their eyes, Tom hadn’t told him yet. 

“Uh, I had… a stomach ache,” Tom lied. “No, but Haz, calm down. It’s gonna turn out smoothly.” 

“You’re one to talk! You ruined one wedding man, what if some ex of her decides to fucking show up and bloody tell her he loves her?” 

“In that case,” Harry laughed. “Y/N would walk in and ruin the wedding, she’s the maid of honour.” 

“You’re not helping, dickhead,” Tom told his brother off. “Haz, look, you have to calm down, everything will be alright. This is great, she loves you, alright? And I barely doubt anyone would come back for Lizzie, no, no no, I’m joking, I’m joking.” 

Harrison rolled his eyes. 

“Look, that stuff doesn’t usually happen, that one time happened because the bride was marrying someone who she didn’t love, and Lizzie loves you, right?” Tom pushed.

“Right, right, but fuck, I’m so bloody nervous!” Haz had his tie around his neck and he was trying to get it right.

“Calm down, dumbass,” Tom laughed as he helped Harrison with his tie. “Everything will be alright.” 

“Yeah man, it’ll be okay.” 

“I mean, you are marrying Lizzie, not sure how that’s gonna go but,” Tom teased, earning Haz’s middle finger. “I’m joking,” he laughed. “C’mon, c’mon.” 

“Dude, everything has gone wrong,” Haz explained. “Something about the salmon and the dresses! And gosh, we’ve been planning this wedding for months and things are tearing up.” 

Tom bit his lip. “Okay, I know, I know… I make everything about y/n but.” 

“Oh god, don’t start,” Harry rolled his eyes. 

“Look,” Tom ran to his bag and took out a magazine. “Maybe… read this, maybe it’ll help you.” 

“How in the bloody hell is reading a fashion magazine going to help me?” Haz questioned. 

“Read it.” 

And so the bride and the groom were synchronized, reading a fashion magazine. 

The Runaway Bride. 

By Y/N Y/L/N

I guess by now, you’ve been reading me for a while, and the world, I hope, has forgotten who I initially was. Maybe you know me as the girl who’s been giving you advice on wedding dresses, on venues and on cakes. 

That’s not who I was before all of this. Maybe you knew about my name before I started writing that column here. 

After the world took a turn on me, I  decided to instead turn it around for me. Maybe the person who was meant to read this will actually read this and clear her doubts, I know you have them. Maybe you’ll smile. Maybe you won’t. Maybe this is my way of clearing your doubts, after all, I am your friend. 

There’s not much I can say about me, my name is Y/N, I am an invisible journalist who initially wanted to talk about everyone and everything else and now I’m here writing about myself.  I can’t say much about me, I guess. I like my tea with lemon and honey, and I also like it with sugar and cream. Depends on my mood, but I usually prefer iced coffee or a pink mimosa. I love poetry, and I wish I could share a dessert with someone right now, 

I am a girl with layers. I do have a story, though. 

When I was young I remembered watching all Julia Roberts movies and aspiring to be like her. Don’t tell my mum, but  I watched Pretty Woman at a very young age, even if I didn’t quite understand it if I’m honest. But I remember standing up and digging into my mum’s closet to wear some heels, a white coat and a hat to walk down her room to the beat of that infamous song, after that amazing scene. 

“Big Mistake, Huge!” I would yell at the same time as Julia. It was a Cinderella for grown-ups type of story. I didn’t quite understand what Vivian's job was, but I understood that she had to kiss Richard Gere and I was fine with that. 

I want that to be my job if I’m honest. Can you blame me? 

Anyone who knows me, knows I love all Julia Roberts’ movies. Little would I know how much like Julia Roberts’ films my life would turn out to be? 

I would like to pride myself on that I’ll become a successful writer like she was on Eat, pray, love.

However, my dream didn’t quite exactly come as I had planned it. Be careful of what you wish, I guess. So far I haven’t found myself moving to Italy to understand the power and pleasure of nourishment, neither have I gone to India to pray and so far I haven’t gone to Indonesia to find my true love. 

I did go to Mexico however, and found pleasure in their food. I have gone to my mother’s house and she’s made me pray, and I’ve been to London, and honestly I think this city is truly the love of my life. 

Maybe I’m lying. I have met true love, but I guess it’s not the time to talk about it. We will move on to that later. 

But I guess I can’t really write a memoir on that, or should I?  However, I guess I’ll have to tell my side of the story, don’t you think? 

My life did turn into a Julia Roberts’ movie. Not in the ones I thought

It started with a dress, as red as Julia’s in Pretty Woman, a dress and someone helping me with a necklace. I guess by now, my name rings some stories and even though the stories are inverted, and I really feel like I shouldn’t be writing this, this was an open spot for me to speak my mind, to crawl out of my little corner where I liked to be invisible. In my constant pursuit of Julia Roberts’ life, I found myself in a very weird predicament. 

I would love to think about it like that scene where he placed that gorgeous necklace around her bare neck, and it kind of stuck. Though, that scene led to a round of unfortunate events. 

I fell in love, and though it doesn’t sound as a tragedy, it certainly involved into one, because I fell in love and then proceeded to get engaged… with another man. 

It all continued, if I think about it, as “My Best Friend’s Wedding.” Though it sounds cheesy and different. And in no way was my ex-fiancée as Cameron Diaz. At least I don’t want to think that, I didn’t like Cameron in that movie, and I very much liked my ex-fiancé, too much for my own convenience. It’s not a sin, and I hope he’s doing amazing. I still love him. 

I’m afraid I didn’t play Julia Roberts’ in that part. My best friend did, however, and I happened to be very in love with my best friend. Note to whoever is reading this: if you happen to be in love with your best friend, don’t make them your maid of honor. 

Or do, and do yourself a favor, don’t let it be too late. If you love someone, tell them. If you love someone, don’t get engaged to someone else. 

I guess that gives context to me. 

If you were to take a few minutes to google me, I know my name is dragged with headlines which are not so pleasant to read. But hopefully, now I can be seen besides the many articles I’ve written. But a few months ago, I was painted as the bad one. 

So, instead of rolling along, I decided, instead, to rename myself as yet another one of Julia’s characters. After all, that’s all I wanted to be. 

“The Runaway Bride.” Sounds catchy. 

Have control of my own life for once. 

Because I did run away. And even if I think I should be giving no explanation to the world, I guess maybe I could use this chance to guide another person who lost herself along the way, too. Maybe you’ll find yourself reading this and understanding my words. You’re probably wondering why a runaway bride has been giving you advice on how to choose your jewels, or how to get your face prepped for your big day. Seems like a hypocrite, but I feel like someone who still believes in weddings even after running away from one, has something to say. 

I’ve always been the perfect daughter, I’ve tried to, at least. I had perfect grades, got home early and didn’t cause much trouble. That was until I graduated, for sure. I’ve always done what everyone told me to do and I followed the path everyone expected me to follow. 

My biggest sin has been falling in love with terrible timing, I’ve loved when I didn’t have to and I didn’t when I had to. 

Timing really, that’s my biggest sin. 

Most of my life I’ve known when to say no, and when to say yes. But it came to a point when saying those words would change me. 

Both words have betrayed me and I am not proud of it. The first time it betrayed me was when someone got down on one knee, and even though I knew in my heart there was an indecisive voice inside, a yes came clear through my mouth. 

Don’t get me wrong, at the time, I did mean it. Who would’ve thought that a simple word gave me such a nightmare?

I know, I know, why are they including me in the wedding section if I ran away from my own wedding? It sounds ironic, I was even skeptical when they asked me to. 

Because even if it’s late to admit it, I may have not yet married anyone as of right now when I’m writing this, maybe someday it’ll be different. But I do know what love feels like. And I know what it doesn’t feel like. 

And maybe you’ve read the articles and realized it, every advice I give you relies on something: It won’t matter in the end, because you’ll see them as you walk down the aisle, and everything will turn to be better. 

Because saying “yes” should never bring in guilt. Probably, like most people, if you said yes, then you were sure of it and I truly hope you didn’t say “yes” just for the reason I now know I did. You shouldn’t say yes because you want to be loved, you should say yes because you want to love. 

I’m a monster, I know. But I’ve learned a thing or two. 

Someone once told me to picture my wedding. And I know, most of us have planned it since our childhood, some have pictured it perfectly, from the flowers to the band, some just know they want a big cake, or some only have been hovering through Pinterest boards. That’s alright. 

But when the moment comes, it won’t matter. In the end, you won’t remember if the cutlery was gold or silver. 

When you’re planning a wedding you see yourself through the different stages, there is a checklist that should be ticked, and time will rush to it. Everyone rushes you into thinking it should be perfect. 

I even had a checklist and I would try to tick off every single box of it because it had to be perfect. But looking at it now, each and every one of those led to the disaster of me turning into Julia Roberts’ character and running the heck out of my wedding. 

Because I gave myself such little time to understand that what I wanted was to be with someone else, and I shouldn’t have invited that said person to the wedding. 

Let me tell you something, I had always wanted a certain wedding, I knew the theme, I wanted the flowers, the perfect venue. And I fell in love with an amazing wedding dress, everything was planned. 

But someone told me that, in the end, it wouldn’t matter, because let me tell you something, I am very sure that when the right person comes, it won’t. 

And they told me that what could go wrong would go wrong, but it wouldn’t matter as long as the love of my life was at the end of the aisle. 

In my case, it did, everything went wrong. The flowers had been changed, the day before they’d told me the menu we had chosen was changed, too. My hair looked awful, I was not wearing the white dress I had chosen, and it wouldn’t have mattered. But it did, because my whole wedding was meant to be a disaster. Because they were small details, and they shouldn’t have mattered. 

And trust me, at a point they didn’t. 

I was walking down the aisle to commit the biggest mistake of my life. And if the love of my life hadn’t interrupted my wedding, I would have become Julia Roberts on Eat Pray Love. A sad wife. 

But I knew that had it been the one who interrupted the wedding the one I was getting married to, it wouldn’t have mattered, I could’ve had paper rings, I could’ve had the ugliest of flowers, or no flowers at all, and I wouldn’t have cared, because he would’ve been at the end of the aisle. 

Because that’s love. And right now as I turn around to the love of my life who is listening to his music and drinking a beer, I know it. I don’t need a checklist, I could marry him right now, wearing our pj’s and using ring pops. Yes, the actual candy. Because what matters is I want to spend the rest of my life with him, discovering his good and bad sides. 

But to know this, I had to run away. And I’m not telling you to run away. But sometimes we have to be away from someone to realize they’re a part of us. Maybe you took the time to google me, or maybe you didn’t so I’ll give you a quick summary. 

My best friend, and love fo my life stopped my wedding, I rejected him and then I ran away from the altar. 

And maybe, you’re thinking, why not go with the love of your life? 

Because I wasn’t ready. And I realized that one doesn’t have to choose. One shouldn’t have to choose. 

So I chose myself. And saying goodbye to the love of my life wasn’t easy, you know? 

It’s delicate, and my reputation could jeopardize his. That’s love you know? Knowing that sometimes you have to choose yourself and that sometimes you should make decisions so you don’t hurt them. But at some point you have to look up. 

And I can’t stress this enough, if you don’t know yourself and you don’t know what you want, you can’t expect your significant other to know it, either. 

But before I ran away, I had to make it clear that I wanted to come back to him. Which brings me to the next Julia Roberts movie, which is kind of stupid, I know. Notting Hill, then again, I wasn’t Julia in the situation. I gave away all my secrets, from someone who never liked to speak up, I had to. 

Yes, like Hugh Grant did, I crashed a press conference and I confessed my love to him. Then we went our separate ways. At that point, I just saw how the whole world turned gray. 

I thought to myself: ‘Is it too stupid? Maybe I regret it.’ And I just thought about it, an address I don’t want to remember, a city far away from home. A hotel that perfectly mirrors it. A time when saying no meant keeping secrets. And honestly, right now, I don’t mind having no secrets anymore, I am waiting to give them all away, when he’s ready, when I’m ready. Because now there are no limits I can think of. 

And I changed, from wanting the perfect wedding, with every single detail the way I wanted it to, to the wedding that could be held in his living room. From wanting 300 hundred guests to being the two of us. 

So here’s my advice to you, whoever you may be. Find a story, dream of something. Don’t get a boring life, go and try to find someone who’d understand you’d have to choose yourself first. Fall in love with yourself first and the wedding will follow along, and love, love without any inconvenience. Don’t be afraid to love, don’t hide away, don’t try to keep all your secrets. And make that checklist, and then do it for yourself, set your date, when you’re ready. Make that guest list so you have everyone you care and love, get the perfect place, the perfect food, and plan the most fun of the honeymoons. 

But before anything else, find yourself and let the person you’re marrying find you, delicately, like a poem, let them read you. Because when you do this, when both of you choose yourselves and each other, nothing else matters, it’s just the strawberries decorating the care. And everything will turn out to be easy, even if love isn’t, the path will be opened and the limits of desire will finally go away. 

And when you love someone, you’ll realize it, paper rings are enough. Because  when your love is so strong, it won’t matter if they changed the cake, or if your bridesmaids’ dresses weren’t the colour you asked. 

Maybe I don’t have the best experience, maybe my advice sucks,  but I hope we can get along this journey. And I’ll be joining you in your path, help you out to stay away from the path of becoming the runaway bride like me. Helping you along the way  to understand what love should feel like, helping you out to stay away from the mistakes I made. Helping you choose yourself so you can be ready to walk down an aisle. Helping you out to be the Julia Roberts you choose to be, not the one the world made you. Maybe I’ll find myself along the way, too, and maybe I’ll be ready to do it, too. 

I know that by the time this comes out, I’ll be helping my friend with her wedding dress, and I know that she’ll be the happiest she could be. And with all my heart, I wish her the perfect wedding, paper or gold rings, I know she’s walking down an aisle to the love of her life. And I couldn’t be happier for her. 

We’ll see how this goes.

Yours, truly, 

The Runaway Bride

---

Being at the end of the aisle gives you a perspective. Maybe Tom was not the one who was at the actual end, but it felt weird. Especially considering what had happened just the night before, a secret he had to yet keep to himself. 

He knew Harrison was sweating. And he knew that probably Harrison would feel even more butterflies than Tom, but the music started to play, the moment had come in, everyone turned around to look at how the bridesmaids were walking down the aisle led by y/n, Tom lost it. It felt good, it felt like magic. And the moment his eyes met hers he knew that he’d never regret the decision he’d made. And she looked at him like she was feeling the same thing, as if time had stopped for her as well, as if the music was for them and only them. As if she was whispering their secret, and he looked down at her hand, and smiled. 

He saw the red dress, and he knew that for once, he’d chosen the right girl, who was wearing the wrong dress. And Tom had to stop himself, even if he desired to kiss her, he knew he’d have to stop. But she walked to the end of the aisle and was across from him. 

Then, everything stopped as the bride was walking in, she looked perfect, with the veil cascading down and her eyes as bright as they could be. But Tom couldn’t look at her, he was too busy admiring y/n. And maybe it was a coincidence but she turned around and locked eyes with him, and he could see how she ran out of breath as she dedicated a smile to him, one that was made for him and only him. He felt his heart stop because they were speaking with their eyes, and he knew what she meant. He felt it too. And everyone was focusing on the bride but they could only look at each other, maybe it was selfish, maybe it wasn’t. Maybe the love around them was inspiring them. 

‘I love you,’ they had mouthed to each other. 

And Tom knew it, that their little secret was just a secret. Because this wasn’t their day, and they didn’t mind it wasn’t. But he knew that even if nobody had noticed the ring on y/n’s hand, it could’ve been made out of paper, and that if they had to set the date, they’d do,it the very next date, with only them as the guests and barely any theme. They didn’t need any flowers or any fancy venue, they didn’t need to mail the save the dates or hire a vendor. They could marry in their underwear, and they didn’t need to book a honeymoon and she needed no bridal shower, and the menu could be a chocolate cake and a strawberry cheesecake. Her something new could be a mere bracelet, and her something borrowed, old and blue could be a blue shirt of his. Their bridesmaids and the best man could be some random toys. But it wouldn’t matter, because they’d be tying the knot, and it wouldn’t matter because  their vows would be perfect, and she’d finally say I do. And that was the only thing that mattered, that they’d be together. 

Because that night, while they were dancing, Tom had chosen the right red dress. Because love is easy when the right person comes. Yes, they had their loads of difficulties, but it seemed that whenever they were together, everything just stopped, everything else  was ordinary, everything was easy. They made mistakes, but everybody does. 

Maybe Tom was not that prince charming to arrive on a white horse, and maybe y/n was not a princess either. Maybe they’ve been wrong this whole time, but they don’t want to hide anymore, because Tom may have tried to get in bed with the wrong girl years ago, but she turned out to be the right one. And y/n used to think that Tom had eyes for everyone for her, but whenever she was in the room, everything else disappeared. And yes, they had to run away to realize they’d run back into each other.  Because maybe they’ve crossed the limits of desire, but maybe, they should’ve always been crossed. 

The end. 

aldsajkd it’s done bye i’m sad it’s over bye 

previous chapter series masterlist Here’s my new story! Perfidy (enemies to lovers) one shot: Tom’s proposal

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[neverendingparable]

KuroŌji

This wouldn’t leave my mind until I wrote it. Inspired by the fact that no matter how cool a black butler AU would be, there’s no way Phobos would go around serving a human being (probably?). And so...

@sassycompanions

TW for mentions of torture through sleep deprivation, death, and demon shenanigans.

Sleep deprivation did all kinds of things to you.

He knew it well by now, the familiar agonizing ache of forced wakefulness, how it felt like to be so tired he wanted to sob or whimper or beg for mercy.

But the experiments kept on going, relying on his unwilling participation to find and remove whatever obnoxious part of the human mind robbed society those precious eight hours of their lives.

If they could cure sleep, they would change the world. And get very, very rich. And that sort of purpose is enough to dismiss a few human lives no one would truly mourn for.

Hallucinations were common. They twisted at the edges of his vision at first, then crept closer, getting bolder and more frequent. He'd hear breathing next to his ear and see no one there when he'd turn his head. Or the soft murmur of voices roused him from his miserable thoughts, lingering even when he'd focus.

Sometimes he'd like to imagine they were his shadowy friends, unable to help other than keeping him company for however long he had left. Or he'd imagine this was a horrid nightmare he could wake up from, that the cage and the needles and the never ending torture for the sake of science were nothing but a mean trick his mind was playing on him when in reality he was tucked away safely in some bed, safe and loved, the real world's whispers seeping into his dreams.

But as vivid as they were, they never interacted much with him, their shapes disappearing when he'd grasp at them.

So when one night, one of the shadows reached through the bars of his cage and gave him a curious prod, he knew something was off.

The sudden touch startled him so badly, he nearly leapt across the cramped space to get away from the shadowy hand whose owner, a dim face half visible in the darkness, was now watching him with amusement.

They stared at each other for a couple of moments.

This is a vivid dream, he thought finally.

Ah, not quite~ a voice responded in his head. It was melodic, with a hint of an accent he couldn't quite place. None of the previous voices were this coherent.

I've gone insane, haven’t I? Took long enough, I suppose.

Darling, you're not even halfway there yet.

The experiment closed his eyes and shook his head fiercely. When he opened it again, the shadow hadn't disappeared.

You're still here?

Did you think it would be that easy?

Who are you?

The shadow's smile stretched wider, inhumanely so and despite all the horrors he had gone through before, the sight struck him with dread.  Its voice scratched on the inside of his mind like fingernails on bone, making him shudder.

เ ค๓ ץ๏ยг ฬ๏гรt ภเɠђt๓คгє

He wanted to scoff, laugh and tell the shadow it was a little too late to the party. But then it twisted its form, for just a minute, and the face that leered out from behind the shadows made his heart stop in terror. A beat later it was back to being indistinct, floating between the cage bars, amused at his ever growing fear.

Have you come to kill me? He thought, unsure what answer he was hoping for.

No, it grinned back.

Then...

Don't you remember? You called me. You want to make a deal with the ๔єvเl, you foolish human.

But don’t you see that no matter they do to you, เ ςคภ ๒є ๓ยςђ ฬ๏гรє~?

It prodded his forehead with a shadowy finger and he believed it. The experiments here could break his body  before his spirit but this...demon, it could reach into his mind and cut the very cords that tethered him to sanity. It could probably rip his soul out if it wanted to.

But it was looking for something. It wouldn't have come just to kill an abomination that would be dead in less than a few weeks. He felt another thing right then, something more painful than the hellish torment his body had endured and with this tiny flame of hope burning inside of him, he reached out and asked to be saved.

Protect me, he begged. And I'll serve you however you want.

The being reached into the cage and he placed a hand in its cold palm. It seemed pleased.

We have a deal.

                                            ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

"Just kill me already, please." Mason moaned, staring at the list of tasks he had just been handed with a mix of despair and annoyance.

Rooms to clean.

Supplies to stock up on, which meant a trip into town.

Writing and sending off letters address to various partners of his Lord, shady or dangerous people who dropped off packages and signed contracts even he didn't get to look at.

Tending to rose bushes, watering the garden, just to name a few.

"Tsk, that would go against our contract." Came the reply, filled with feigned indignance.

Mason's head snapped up and glowered at the man lounging on the regal couch, watching him with obvious mirth.

A butler who complained about work was worthless in most households and would be replaced by yes men who followed every command with a docile bow. But that would be too boring, wouldn’t it?

His Lord allowed him the occasional grumble without any severe reprimanding because Phobos took great delight in his suffering and never missed an opportunity to point out how serving a high maintenance prince was a hell of a lot better than rotting away in some moldy cage.

He was right, of course.

"I restocked this yesterday!" Mason continued regardless. "And we don't have any guests over for at least another week, why do I need to clean the rooms out now?"

"You can't possibly know that," the prince replied, calmly picking up a porcelain tea cup with a graceful hand. "I may be expecting guests."

"Shouldn’t you tell me then? Seeing how I am your butler and need to know if we are expecting company?"

"Ah, do you?" Phobos' eyebrows shot up in mock surprise. "It seems like you spend more time arguing and whining than being useful."

Mason opened his mouth, then closed it again.

"Of course, my Lord." He sighed, giving him a disingenuous bow. "I apologize."

Phobos dismissed him with a wave that meant 'now don’t bother me again unless it has something to do with food, wine or actual entertainment' and Mason withdrew back into the kitchen to check with Charlotte if they have enough food for any surprise visits Phos the future threw at them.

(He was convinced that Phobos sometimes threw impromptu balls just to watch him scramble around desperately arranging catering and schedules at last second.)

When the shadowy figure had first pulled him out of that hell hole, Mason had expected a lot of things. A culling, perhaps. Hell. A place of punishment.

Instead, he got a butler costume, his name back and a grand, luxurious dark castle to look after, spoiled prince included.

Learning to serve was hard but Phobos refused to go easy on him, giving him elaborate instructions of how he wanted things and forcing him to spend hours perfecting the chores. When Charlotte eventually came into their midst, he was happy to hand over the cooking to someone else.

Mason never figured out why the prince kept them around - maybe out of loneliness or boredom or a hidden sinister plan yet to be discovered - but he kept up his end of the deal.

A few times, someone came for Mason. Their bodies never left the castle and he burned the remains in the basement's hearth.

Months after his rescue, a rich doctor stopped by for a visit. He had only one servant along, a sickly looking maid with hollow eyes. What had happened behind closed doors was unknown to them both, but when Mason came to serve tea, he found the doctor, lying in a pool of his own blood. He had sent the maid back into the kitchen before she could see the mess and wordlessly cleaned the blood off his Lord's hands.

Thus Charlotte joined their little party.

Mason learnt a few things about Phobos too, in the time they spent together. 

He had a different name, once upon a time and a past he spoke of occasionally with a hint of derision and disgust. He had been a powerful tyrant, reflected in the way his guests spoke in his presence. He had a curse that tore him apart and left him exhausted, his room always smelling faintly of blood afterwards. None of Mason's questions were ever answered directly, so he learned to keep spare bed sheets and healing flasks at hand, knew how to recognize the signs of pain when his Lord was too proud to ask for help and ended up on a first name basis with the witches in town in his search for a cure.

You can't cure a demon, Phobos mocked him constantly. 

Mason disagreed. 

If a soul could be redeemed by a deal with the devil, then he felt quite confident of attempting the impossible.

[your--isgayrights]

F, M, S :?

Hiiii stella i really liked your new fic just so you know okay hello :))

Gonna put my answers to these under the cut because they’re really long ^_^; thank you for sending me an ask for this but also dont feel obligated to read my long winded answers aslkfjfdsf

F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Hmmmm this question is kind of hard because even though I really see myself as someone who likes writing dialogue more than prose, lately most talking I write is like heavily interlaced with like these character actions that are supposed to be indicative of tone, you know? Also I have a lot of dialogue I like that isn’t technically attached to anything yet... uh...

Okay, I like these lines from A Dream in Which Yoo Jonghyuk Plays Mario Kart:

"Kim Dokja." Yoo Jonghyuk says.

"... You're gonna tell me to shut up, right?" Kim Dokja tries to guess from the vast experience he has of this man. "To not worry so much about useless things? To just be here in the moment..."

He trails off on the word moment. His eyes are suddenly far away, clouded with the memory of a destroyed Seoul skyline.

The hand on his shoulder tightens. Just enough to bring him back.

"Eh?" Kim Dokja's eyes refocus, blinking up at a Yoo Jonghyuk who is looking at him in the eye instead of over his shoulder. "Well?" He asks a man whose broad back is now far too sore in the mornings to carry the weight of the world. "Am I right?"

Yoo Jonghyuk does not answer any of the questions that Kim Dokja has posed with a 'yes,' a 'no,' or even a 'shut up.'

He does, however, give his husband a peck on the lips that lasts for just a moment shorter than a dream and conveys the exact same message.

When he pulls away from this kiss, he meets his husband's eyes once more and says five magical words.

"Watch me win Rainbow Road."

Um the thing I’m most proud of here is that I made Yoo Jonghyuk being a gamer anything approaching “romantic.” The “Watch me win Rainbow Road” line is basically the main thing holding this ficlet together as an actual piece of writing akdjfslfjsf. But like I said, a lot of the emotion in the words comes from the deviance from expectation set up around the dialogue rather than the dialogue itself, so I’m not sure if it counts? Fun anyway!

M: Got any premises on the back burner that you’d care to share?

Hmmm most of my premises I’ve been trying to adapt somehow into my current WIP, like I had this soosang idea that I thought about adapting as some sort of epilogue? It was like about HSY and YSA being childhood friends and the way that HSY wrote passages in her stories differently based on the way she viewed their relationship. But then like... hmm.

I guess Actual premises would include stuff like “AU where Kim Dokja is there when Yoo Jonghyuk regresses,” which I’m always daydreaming about just a little bit because 1. I kind of want to write YJH perspective on KDJ in the early rounds because I think its hilarious how he probably thinks very highly of him actually and thats SO diffferent from how KDJ views how things are happening, and then 2. VERY funny to have KDJ make the choices he makes confidently in timelines where he doesn’t realize YJH knows about him, or like 3. how KDJ would adapt to YJH knowing about him and whether he has back up plans for that.

My only hang up on that premise is that I’m not going to write it because A. It would take WAY too long for me to flesh out that premise in a way that I was happy with because I’m terrible like that and even slice of life relationship stories have to have like 40k long chapters for me to be happy with development. And then B. It’s definitely a premise that’s been used before, and even though I’m usually cool with doing bland premises with my own spin on them, I think that a lot of people already have like... set opinions on what they think this type of au would look like and mine differs a bit and I don’t want to argue with people on the internet, haha.

Anyway since I’m never going to write it, I can tell you that I think that the climax of my AU would probably be all of the KDJs of every timeline some how reviving YJH at the same time across their parallel timelines. It would show the perspectives of KDJs who were briefly mentioned in YJH’s building angst train, even ones where he was an enemy and in fact killed YJH himself, and other ones where he was a deeply trusted comrade, and we would think that the KDJs are doing some part of the scenario until they all do the same thing at once and it’s revealed what the item they were trying to obtain did. It exchanges his own life for that of YJH’s.

YJH in whatever regression he’s in has this moment of being completely saved, where all of these lifetimes where he died peacefully of old age by his companion’s sides come rushing into him, but even though he realizes Kim Dokja is the one responsible, he has no memory of him making it to the end. So he resolves to spend that last lifetime vowing not to die and to save Kim Dokja no matter what when previously he had given into the regressor depression of only trying to save himself.

Also not about fanfic but uh here’s some songs that I daydream orv amvs to sometimes: A Death - An Unkindness, I’m Gonna Win - Rob Cantor, Achilles Come Down - Gang of Youths, Squaring up - Sir Chloe.

S: Any fandom tropes you can’t resist?

Ahhh you know I think I’ve said this before that I really like slow burn and long complicated relationships like childhood friends to enemies to friends and or lovers you know, but I’ve been thinking about it recently and realize that I actually do use a lot of fandom-ey tropes! Like it was pointed out to me that my big WIP is very much based on an AU used in other fandoms, and I realize that I really like writing troupes used in fandom in a way that puts my own twist on it,  you know?

Like this is a bit embarassing, but I think the first fics I ever wrote were definitely from me seeing a specific kind of AU being overused in the fandom and wanting to write that AU from what I viewed as like... THE. RIGHT. WAY. to do it asdlkfjsfasfasf. Like the main emotion that actually gets me writing something down is spite alskfjf. Like sorry allos but I don’t understand why they would have kissed there so heres a 50k+ fic where they gaze longingly at each other for a much much longer time okay thanks.

[malewifegrantaire]

The Birthday Thing

READ PART ONE HERE

PART TWO: Guess who’s coming to dinner hang out for no apparent reason (as far as Grantaire can tell)?

Combeferre had inadvertently ruined the rest of Grantaire’s week. It wasn’t his fault, of course. He couldn’t be blamed for Grantaire’s Incredibly Bad Brain. But still, “I just know Enjolras and I know he likes you” is a very reckless phrase to pepper into a conversation with someone of Grantaire’s constitution. He could hardly fall asleep that night because the words I know he likes you were clanging too loudly against the bars of the jail cell he called a mind. He didn’t mind too much though. The clanging was because Enjolras liked him, which made all of the noise sound a bit like music.

Grantaire picked out an outfit for the party and laid it out like he was a little kid excited for a school trip. Embarrassed with himself, he threw the entire outfit into his clothing hamper so he wouldn’t have to look at it lying out on his dresser anymore. Which was obviously a mistake, because now the clothes were are wrinkled and they were touching his actually dirty clothes. Which meant now he had to do a half load of laundry on a weekday, which he really didn’t like doing.

As he folded his laundry, Grantaire felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Huh. It was from Combeferre. Odd.

hey, are u free? sorry lol i am bored and wanted to know if u wanna hang out ??

Very odd. Maybe the wrong number? Just to be safe, Grantaire texted back:

grantaire is folding laundry right now, like a responsible adult.

Two texts back:

very interesting use of third person..

i can help if u want! i love 2 fold things

So this was Grantaire’s life. He used to be young and wild, and now he’s the sort of person that makes plans with people who text him sentences like “i love 2 fold things.” He typed his response.

uh, sure? might get boring, but i’ll never say no to an extra set of hands.

About fifteen minutes later, Combeferre was inside of Grantaire’s apartment. “You got here fast.” Grantaire said.

“I was in the neighborhood.”

“Aren’t you always?”

Combeferre took in Grantaire’s apartment, which gave Grantaire such a wave of self-consciousness that he thought he might be sick. It was a fine apartment, kept clean mostly because Grantaire hardly spent any time in it. The ceilings were far too low for Combeferre.

“This is a really nice place.” Combeferre said. “Have you lived here long?”

“Five years, I think.” Grantaire said. “I think the landlord thought I’d have left by now, but, well. I’m still here.”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s nice. Good windows. Not easy to come by.”

Grantaire laughed at that. “Hey, was there something you wanted to talk about? Or are you just here to admire my big beautiful windows?”

Combeferre looked slightly embarrassed. “Uh, the latter, I guess.” he said. “I mean, just what I texted, I was bored, and I guess . . . I don’t know. I guess I thought we could just hang out?”

Now it was Grantaire’s turn to be embarrassed. Of course. Combeferre is the sort of person who’s actually, you know, decent. He was just trying to be nice and Grantaire was accusing him of having an ulterior motive. Way to go. Grantaire cleared his throat. “Well, thanks for coming. Feel free to park wherever. I only did a half load of laundry so I’m finished folding, sorry. I know how much you love to fold.”

“I went through a very intense Marie Kondo phase.” Combeferre grinned. “Let me know if you ever need your closet to be reorganized.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Grantaire said. It was dawning on him that, being more of the roaming type than the nesting type, Grantaire almost never had people over his apartment, and therefore had very little hosting experience. So he did what he always did in situations like this - said what people say in movies and books and all that.

“Can I offer you a beverage of some kind? I’ve got . . . tap water. And orange juice. And maybe beer?”

“I’m alright, thanks.” Combeferre said kindly. Combeferre’s fridge was probably fully stocked with sparkling water in every flavor for guests to sip on, the bastard. He sat down in a little chair by the kitchenette. “What, what is it?” he asked, looking at Grantaire’s expression. “Why are you - what’s funny?”

“Everything is too small for you in here. It’s like shoving a Barbie doll into a Polly Pocket house.” Grantaire said with a laugh. Combeferre tucked his long legs a bit closer to himself.

“Well, Barbie is a good role model, so I’ll take that.”

“I think an averaged sized woman or two might disagree. Anyways, you’ve got impeccable timing.”

“What do you mean?” Combeferre inquired.

“I mean that someone must have wanted us to hang out today. God, the Fates, some non-denominational arbiter of Destiny.” Grantaire was doing that thing he always did where he ended sentences in a way that begged the listener to ask him to explain himself. Why he chose to speak in these irritating circles? We will likely never know. Grantaire sure as hell didn’t.

Combeferre rolled his eyes, but he seemed more amused than annoyed. “You’re impossible.”

“It’s been said before.” was Grantaire’s reply. “What I mean to say is I’m literally never home. Not literally-literally, but, you know. This apartment is basically a glorified storage unit that I visit when there is absolutely nothing else to do. So the fact that you happened to be passing by on a laundry day...”

“... a work of divine intervention?” Combeferre finished.

“I’d go so far as to call it a miracle if I believed in that sort of thing.” Grantaire said.

Combeferre’s next question caught Grantaire off-guard somewhat. “So you’re an atheist, then?”

Grantaire had never actually seen a shrink, but he had the passing sensation of being sprawled out on some brown leather fainting sofa. Maybe that’s what this was, a psych eval. He’d get a message from the official Les Amis de l’ABC e-mail account later in the week saying “sorry, R, you’ve been deemed mentally unfit to be a part of this organization. We know the Musain is public property, but if you could avoid the premises during our scheduled meeting times we all think that’d be for the best.”

“Well, yeah, aren’t all of the lefties heathens nowadays? At least that’s what Twitter tells me.” he said. His paranoia would not rob him of his (debatable) sense of humor.

Combeferre just shrugged. “I guess if I had to call myself something I’d say I’m agnostic.”

“Huh!” Grantaire said, genuinely surprised. “A member of the ‘namby-pamby, mushy pap, weak-tea, weedy, pallid fence-sitter’ brigade, are we?”

Two things occurred to Combeferre at once: One, that Grantaire was quoting Richard Dawkins, and two, that Grantaire could not have been certain that Combeferre would recognize the quote when he said it. Grantaire was both the sort of person that committed Dawkins to memory and the sort that didn’t really care if someone mistook his references for a string of improvised insults. The more Grantaire spoke, the more Combeferre became aware of how little speaking they’d ever done.

“I guess I just think one can never be sure.” Combeferre said.

Grantaire thought now would be a good time for a subject change. “So, how is party planning going?” he asked.

Combeferre sighed. “It’s . . . it’s going.” he said. “Well, okay, I’m being dramatic. Courfeyrac is actually the one doing most of the planning. I just get weird about stuff like this. I want Enjolras to like everything, you know?”

“I don’t think Enjolras is capable of disliking anything you do.” Grantaire said in a way that to the untrained ear might sound like a veiled insult, but that Combeferre suspected was an attempt at genuine sincerity.

“Well, thanks.” Combeferre smiled gratefully. “I just want him to have a good time.”

“He will. It’s the rest of us you’ll have to work to entertain.”

“Well, Courfeyrac has a slew of party games he’s preparing. Oh, and, uh, Enjolras mentioned he’s glad you’ll be able to make it. By the way.” Combeferre said, which made Grantaire blush, which made Combeferre smile.

Grantaire hated that. Not just when Combeferre did it, when any of them did. Making faces or little comments, as if they were in on some big secret. It’s like they were proud of themselves for noticing Grantaire’s little crush, like they knew something funny or scandalous or cute. But they didn’t know anything, not really. Grantaire didn’t have a crush on Enjolras at all. It was more like a religion. Maybe he’d been too quick to brand himself an atheist earlier.

His annoyance with Combeferre soured the rest of their conversation. He became mean, curt, and downright humorless. This wasn’t at all fair, he knew. Grantaire probably annoyed Combeferre every third sentence (maybe every third word) and that had never stopped Combeferre from being his usual amiable self. There was another difference between the two: Grantaire lacked both grace and graciousness, and Combeferre, it seemed, never ran out of either.

“Well, I guess I should be leaving.” Combeferre said after a while, rising from the squat chair he was sitting in.

“I guess.”

“Uh, thank you for having me over. We should do this again some time. I had fun.” Combeferre lied.

Grantaire smiled, but the smile did not reach his eyes. “Yeah, why don’t we all do brunch some time? You can bring your friends, it’ll be a real party. Everyone can sit around admiring my huge windows. What a blast!”

Combeferre knew he was joking, but he couldn’t decipher the punchline. What would be so bad about having all of their friends over for brunch? Why did he say the word “friends” like that, all sardonic and italicized? Combeferre almost asked him, but instead he just shook his head and smiled.

“Okay. Well. Bye!”

Grantaire waved lazily. “See you around.”

Under normal circumstances, the phrase “Enjolras mentioned he’s glad you’ll be able to make it” would have found itself fluttering in the pit of Grantaire’s stomach. Instead, there was something else sitting in there. Something that felt a bit like failure, a bit like guilt, and - most surprising of all - a bit like affection.

This is precisely why he didn’t like having people over.