#although her life is probably equally messed up

[neofelis----nebulosa]

My stories I had for my stuffed animals when I was 12 were absolutely bonkers. I had this one character who was like 14 years old and was a “troubled teen” because she said bad words and that caused her to develop an unhealthy relationship with her mom then she moved out with a 22 year old man and had kids with him then died at war.

[pia-nor481]

Oscar Piastri NSFW alphabet

A-Aftercare (what they're like after sex?)

Always cuddles, whether she's resting on his chest or him on hers. I definitely see him being lazy afterwards and is all "do we have to get up, it's so comfortable" but he knows better and does so with a groan.

B-Body part (what is their favourite part of theirs and their partner?)

He actually really likes his cock. Not overly sure why but just does. But also his hands, they can do a lot.

I don’t think there’s one part of his partner that he doesn’t like. But he like boobs. Always has and always will. Seeing them is a pretty bra just gets him off. But he will always have an appreciation for ass.

C-Cum (anything to do with cum)

Oscar likes things MESSY. He will happily cum absolutely anywhere, and he comes a lot. Also taking into consideration Australia's circumcision rate of 10-20% (depending on where you look) I reckon he isn't, and so is very sensitive, so it's quite easy to make him cum.

D-Dirty secret (just a dirty secret of theirs)

I think he might really like the idea of someone watching, he’s a bit of a voyeur. Not many would believe he’s so fantastic in bed. So he’s like someone else to see and say so. Not that her body language doesn’t tell him that. He’s a bit of a show off at times. But it’s always hot.

E- Experience (how experienced are they)

Not very, but he's so willing to learn!! He wants to make her cum because she deserves. If he eats her out he doesn't expect anything back, but he'd never complain. I think he likes to do research and wants to try it out, so immediately he's telling her about this thing and he's all giddy.

F- Favourite position

Oscar loves so many positions!!! He really likes straddling positions where she's on top; any variation of cowgirl or where she's sat in his lap. But he also likes to be on top;any variation of missionary, but in particular when she has her legs around his waist and hands in his hair.

G- Goofy (how serious are they in the moment)

Definitely a mix of both. There's definitely times where nothing arousing or particularly intimate has occurred yet he really wants sex. Or times where they could have a pretty normal conversation while getting railed. But he like more serious sex too- he likes to focus on pleasure-not just cumming.

H- Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes)

I think Oscar's hair is the same colour. But I think he's very well groomed, although he's okay with mess (have you seen his drivers room?) I think this would be something he's quite picky about. Always trimmed to a nice length. Have you seen his happy trail? I think he’d be a little scared of razor burn (probably happened once and was suffering) so avoids them like the plague, unless she offers for him when in the shower ;)

I- Intimacy (how are they during the moment? Romantic? Pleasure driven?)

I’m lead to believe he’s very romantic, he wants to show her how passionate he is. He loves her with all of his heart, and what better way to show that than pleasure. He knows that the build up to an orgasm is just as fun as the final climax so he isn’t always desperate to cum.

J- Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

In my mind he doesn’t masturbate often, but when he does he likes to tease. He uses such light pressure that he can’t get anywhere close to cumming. Or he’s so desperate that his main focus is the head, he just rubbing an open palm against the tip, moaning while is eyes roll back. However he doesn’t like to Jack off, he’d prefer her hand or mouth.

K- Kinks (one or more of their kinks)

Switch- if it wasn’t made obvious I think he’s the perfect example of a switch. He’s equally as submissive as dominate, and it makes for a really good sex life. With his dominance, I think it comes mainly position and instruction; there will be times where he just picks her up by the waist, places her on the nearest surface and just fucks her brainless

Bottoming- is this even a kink? Well it’s here now. I think this came about from his little research moment, he saw a lot about how much pleasuring the g-spot could heighten his orgasm and practically begged for it.

Temperature play- I think ties into a fondness for toys. But also, now hear me out, when he’s getting a bj and there’s lots of spit on his cock, he likes when she blows air onto it, giving a cooling sensation.

Voice/sound- he loves when there’s some kind of music playing, but he also loves just hearing her voice, maybe it’s because he likes being told what to do.

Praise/degradation- this can be read in the context of either dom or sub. But he’s loves degradation with a mix of praise. “Such a slut, so good for me.” Praise him because he derives it!! But call him a slut for looking at lando like that. Oscar loves to give praise after sex, sweet nothings and pillow talk is his specialty if he’s coherent.

L- Location (their favourite place)

I’m going to have to be basic in saying the bedroom. However not just the bed. Say you’re picking out some clothes from the wardrobe, if you’re trying things on, you should know it’s not long until you’re being pushed up against the door.

Round two in the shower are a must.

M- Motivation (what gets them going?)

He really likes dirty talk, but the subtle kind. Or if you whisper in his ear out in public “I can’t wait to get home and have your cock in my mouth” he’s already semi hard. “I think it’s time we leave”

Lingerie- I imagine him to really like baby dolls or really pretty/ intricate bras and panties.

N- No (what turns them off)

CNC-he can’t see the appeal of it.

Spanking- I’m talking more about 5+ with the intention of it really hurting/being a punishment. He definitely likes to tap her ass. But not leave it so red and sore that she can’t sit.

O- Oral (preference on giving or receiving. Skill)

I think he may slightly prefer giving. Just seeing the pleasure he can give with his tongue/hands. He’s very skilled in eyes, I think that he’s desperate to please and so found different techniques to see what would work best. Oscar *fuck me eyes* Piastri like to be on his knees while you ride his face. However, when he sees how enthusiastic she is about blowing him, how can he say no?

P- Pace (Are they fast or slow? Rough or sensual?)

He definitely prefers slow and sensual, but he does like it rough from time to time. He knows variety is super important and is very willing to give that. I think post race win!Oscar definitely likes hardcore, he feels like he deserves it.

Q- Quickie (their opinions on them? How often?)

I think he can see the appeal and is quite happy that he can cum pretty fast, the risk of it is nice so he does enjoy them. But he would definitely prefer hours long to have his way with you.

R- Risk (will they experiment? Do they take risks?)

He loves to experiment. He knows to switch up his technique every so often, switching from deep thrusting to short and shallow. The following week maybe he tries to milk her g-spot. He will always keep it interesting

S- Stamina (how many rounds do they go for?)

I believe he can go for quite a few rounds but he has a long refractory period. You have to wait quite a few minutes to even dare to touch his cock after cumming. But it will take him a while to cum again. But he’s easy to overstimulate

T-Toys (do they own any? Do they use them? On a partner or themself?)

Absolutely loves them!! His personal favourite are vibrators. He loves using them on her, as well as on himself. If he was really spending the whole night focusing on her, his mouth and hands will need a break. So he’s ready to get out a rabbit or a wand. He might like handcuffs but it can be a spur of the moment thing, even if he’s in control. The first time he used one (a vibe) on himself he came in under five minutes, and overstimmed himself. He didn’t focus on the shaft enough. But he later realised to use a slow vibration and apply less pressure. His favourite dildo is 6-inches btw.

U-Unfair (how much do they tease?)

He loves being teased but not edged. When he wants to cum he should be allowed to!! Or he’ll pout. Slowing down while blowing him is one of his favourite things. But he also loves to tease back. He’s NOT all talk. He’ll make you wait for hours before you’re allowed to cum. Only kissing around your cunt. Or just twisting/sucking your nipples. But you won’t cum. Foreplay is a favourite of his.

V-Volume (how loud are they? What sounds do they make?)

When dimming he’s not quiet, but not loud. He’s definitely making noises. He groans and had a very low moan. But the more he cums the higher and louder the moans become. He’s very breathy if that makes sense.

W-Wild card (a random headcanon)

He really loves flavoured lube. He’s got all of the fruity ones in the bedside table. He just thinks it’s nice to spice it up as lube isn’t just used on his cock or her cunt. Yes he does like whipped cream and sweet sauces, so he cheats on his diet quite often.

X-X-ray (how big are they?)

Definitely more thick. Although I can imagine 6/7 inches I’m not sure why.

Y- Yearning (how high is their sex drive)

Not very, he just gets very caught up in the moment. So one day he’ll be begging for hours on end for pleasure as if he didn’t have morning sex or didn’t bend her over the sofa two hours ago. Other days he just doesn’t feel like cumming at all. But if you asked he’d definitely eat you out, or grab one of the many toys scattered around his messy room. Overall some days are 0/10 others 10/10

Z-Zzz (how quick do they fall asleep afterwards?)

Oscar Piastri sleepy boy confirmed. He loves his sleep so much, so pretty quick; especially it was very sensual and romantic. But if the sex was more rough I think the adrenaline would keep him up for quite a while.

Help why is he so pale. Like you’re from Australia babe, how are you as white as me. (I’ve not stepped foot in the sun for 3 years.)

[aniesvision]

𝑩𝒓𝒖𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒔

𝚃𝚆!

⚠︎ 𝙳𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚛: 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚖𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚊 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛. 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚑 𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝. 𝙱𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚏𝚎 ♥︎

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕, 𝒔𝒍𝒊��𝒉𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝒔𝒖𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆, 𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇-𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒎, 𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒍 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒕𝒉 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒈𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒔, 𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒔, 𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅, 𝒓𝒆𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒕, 𝒑𝒆𝒕 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔 (𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒚), 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇 𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒅.

𝚊/𝚗: 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒆'𝒔 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒂 𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕, 𝑰'𝒎 𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒔𝒂𝒅. 𝒂𝒍𝒔𝒐: 𝑰'𝒎 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒘, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒐𝒏𝒆'𝒔 𝒐𝒌𝒂𝒚, 𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒍 𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒔𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆'𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒅! 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒂𝒕 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 𝒆𝒙𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒔. 𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆 ☕︎

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒐𝒚𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂 𝒃𝒂𝒅 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒂 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌-𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍

It was finally the weekend. You and your boyfriend haven't seen each other in almost three weeks now with how busy you were with work and college, and how busy he was with filming his 7 million video.

Matt was excited to see you, but although you love him with all your heart you weren't. It's not because of him, it's because of something you did and that now you regret, but you can't undo it.

You were finishing getting ready and preparing an overnight bag when he texted you asking if you were already on your way. It was obvious he was dying to see you again, and you knew he would be the sweetest person ever whenever it was time to tell him what you did, but you didn't want to worry him.

You drove to his house, slowly and carefully, and not even half an hour later you were under him, both of you without your shirts and your breasts on full display. He was so good at making you forget all your problems, to make you feel cared for and seen.

Unfortunately, those last weeks were difficult, to say the least. You always had your own struggles, and it was getting harder to do things when you couldn't stop overthinking every little step. You didn't know what you wanted to do with your life, your work gave you nothing but stress and barely enough to pay your bills, college was tiring and you couldn't focus, nothing made sense anymore.

The amount of anxiety building in your chest was growing by the day and one of them you snapped. Not even the pills you took to sleep were making you any sleepy, although your body and mind were equally tired, so without thinking too much you stood from your bed and sat on the corner of your bathroom.

It wasn't a pleasant scene, an eyebrow shave in your hand and your phone in the other, tears falling nonstop from your eyes and the sobs filling the room. Your pain was visible. As you tried to lean your phone on your bathroom counter, your best friend talked you through it. Your mind was blank and there was nothing but build up stress in your being.

"Grab a towel, damp it with water, clean it gently, talk to me, it's okay."

It was killing you inside, all the mess you made. Two towels, the tiles, the counter, your clothes, all painted in red. And you didn't feel a thing, probably because of the pills, but that meant you kept going without noticing how far you went, you only stopped when your pet scratched the bathroom door and you had to open it for him.

You immediately called your friend, telling her all about what happened, it was late at night and you couldn't stop hating yourself for letting it go too far again.

Matt's kisses reached your stomach and the memories from last night echoed in your mind, making you push him away and sit upright with glossy eyes.

-I'm sorry, I can't. -You whispered, turning your head to the side and covering your bare chest with your arms.

Your boyfriend looked incredibly confused, you never really pushed him away before, normally you'd pull him closer. He sat in front of you, reaching for your eyes.

-Why? What's wrong? -He asked, in a soft tone, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear to show more of your face.

-Nothing. -Your voice barely came out, sounding like a painful whisper, and it made Matt even more concerned.

-Hey, hey, talk to me, what's going on? -He gently turns your body so you're facing him again, noticing the tears in your eyes.

You don't say anything, but when you wince and grab his wrist when he touches your thigh, it is enough for him to realize.

You did it a few times before, just once since you met him. He knew you were the type of person to let everything happen, anyone run over you with a smile on your face, and then you'd build all this pain and let it go in the unhealthiest way possible. He tried to help you release this stress in other things and ways, but even taking care of yourself and your mental health, sometimes it was too much and you couldn't help it.

His face immediately falts, his eyes dropping to your covered legs. You felt like the worst person ever. How could you do such a thing? How could you be so selfish? It was so clear that he was upset, that it also affected him and not only you. Just like it also affected your friend. Your tears continued to roll, hoping he'd let go and not question it, but he wouldn't do that, he loves you.

-Show me. -He whispers, capturing your eyes once more.

You shake your head no, scared to see his reaction, to upset him too much, to make him leave.

-Show me. -He repeats with a firmer voice, but that still carries a lot of emotions.

You slowly sigh, standing up and sliding your sweatpants down gently so as not to make any more bruises. The sight of his face broke your heart. His eyes tearing up, his head turning to the side and his lips folding. You never saw him so upset before. He sighs silently, scooting to the edge of the bed and gently placing his hands on the back of your legs.

-What happened? -He asks, caressing your skin carefully, looking between the bruises you made and your eyes.

-I'm sorry. -You said.

You repeated it like a mantra, covering your face and sobbing. You were so scared, so vulnerable, so sad, so disappointed with yourself.

He shakes his head, pulling you closer and kissing your stomach.

-No, don't apologize, it's not your fault, alright?

You hug him, using all your strength to keep him close like he'd leave any second.

-I love you, I love you so much, you're so beautiful, I'm right here with you, please don't be scared to reach out, I'm not going anywhere, you hear me? -His words were all the assurance you needed and the tone of his voice only added to your trust in him.

-I love you. -You whisper between breaths, your voice muffled by his hair, your crying taking over the room like a sad reminder of your choice.

-It's okay, baby, it's okay. You know what? I'll run you a bath to make sure it's all cleaned up and I'll order us food. Sounds good? -Matt looks up at you, and you look back with hope, nodding.

The cute smile on his face made your heart swell and before standing up he gently pressed his lips against your marks. He then kisses your lips and helps you get dressed again, pulling you with him to his bathroom, starting a warm shower, his arms wrapping you in an embrace and his lips prepping kisses all along your body. Just like that, all the stress was gone.

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔 ✍︎

➪ @riowritesitall @mattsfavbigtitties @sturniolosarethebest @hyacinthst @flower-sturns @sturncakez @watercolorskyy @delooshunalhoe @sarosfilms @blahbel668 @sturniyolo69 @sturniolosl0t @sturnsxbitvh @colbsposts00 @fallingforfalll2 @stvrnmc @starnoirr @katie-tibo @sturnioloblues @monroesturnns @mattnchrisworld @shaquilles-0atmeal @fratbrochrisgf @dayzeandhaze @sharkcat1928

[asteroidzzzn]

timeless

summary: no matter the decade, you and ellie seem to always find each other

word count: 4.3k

a/n: this ones for all my swifties that also have timeless (the best vault track btw) on repeat

a bustling crowd carried you downtown, where you roamed aimlessly. you tossed a quick few cents to a paperboy in exchange for the daily paper, Evening Standard, 1945.

Now, it is 50 miles to Warshaw, where the—

an unexpected object slammed against your forehead, while you were distracted reading. you stumbled away from the pole, your gaze drawn to the flickering lights of a nearby shop. a quaint little place, seemingly cozy.

something in your head said stop, so you walked in.

the place was a cluttered mess full of memories from countless lives. a cardboard box with a sign read photos, 25 cents each.

your hand reached in, revealing a photo of a woman in a wedding dress, smile bright while her husband next to her gazed at her as if she hung the stars. newlyweds stood proudly in front of their new house.

aged writing on the bottom of the photo stated that the couple, betty and james, bought their first house together in 1934, just a decade prior to present day.

although you had never seen the two before, you could tell one thing about them. their love was a rare kind, the love you were lucky to find just once in your life, for a fleeting second.

you saw yourself and ellie in that photo, in some alternate universe. it was a perfect world, where you could find a farmhouse on a hill, raise animals together, and no one would bat an eye at the fact you were two women in love.

you recalled ten minutes ago, reading the paper which regarded the war, praying to whatever god out there that she would come home safe.

with all the care in the world, you returned the photo to the counter, keeping your head low as the bell rung on your way out.

when you returned to your home, you quickly found your way to your room, lighting a candle and sinking down to the floor. your emotions overtook you, letting out a soft sob.

ellie was one of the few people you cared about. during the harsh conditions of the war, you found comfort with each other. you had a connection that you shared with no other.

the day she got sent across the world, you were devastated. at first, you visited her bakery, left abandoned with dust and broken glass. she assured you she would keep safe, simply serving soldiers their meals, but she could not console you.

your hand found its way under the bed, pulling out a shoebox. it contained letters from the past year.

tears trickled down your cheeks as you gripped the envelopes, reminders of her love and wellbeing.

a sudden warmth washed over you. a calm sense of sureness. you lingered on the beautiful memory of meeting ellie, that one winter day in 1944.

"oh dear, i'm so sorry, ma'am," you had apologized and brushed off the mysterious woman's apron.

"it-it's no worry," she told you, offering a smile.

if it were any other day, you would have figured out something equally as polite to say and be on your way.

but something seemed different today.

if it was any other person, you would have bowed your head in apology once more, and continued your trip to the market.

but you simply could never forget about this woman, let alone leave her for just a couple of tomatoes your mother had beckoned you to retrieve.

the woman adjusted her chef hat, pushing a strand of hair from her face, revealing her eyes, into which you shamelessly admired for probably a moment too long.

a soft chuckle fell from your lips as she struggled to straighten out the hat.

"who do you cook for?" you prompted, curious to know more about her.

"oh, i actually own my own bakery, down on seventh street." she lifted the paper bag in her hand. "i just went to pick up ingredients."

your eyes widened, "that's incredible, i'll have to go there someday!"

she bit her lip, seemingly lost in thought. "i'm heading there right now. would you like to come?"

nodding enthusiastically, you linked your arm with hers, glancing to the side to see the faintest blush dash across her freckled cheeks.

"lead the way," you told her. and she did.

you wiped your tears on the sheets hanging off the side of your bed, you dug through the box to find the most recent envelope you hadn't opened yet.

you read about her past week, a smile creeping up on your face as you saw the way she signed of her name.

yours, for all time, ellie

and you believed it. your love truly would be timeless.

"this is taking forever," you groaned out to yourself, ripping tape of and sealing yet another box shut. it was a gorgeous sunny day during the summer of 1981. however, you were stuck in a dark, hot garage, while all your friends spent the day at the beach.

the door creaked loudly, welcoming a person into the room. you did not look up from the box, assuming the shadow in the corner of your eye was your father, telling you to hurry up.

your family was moving to a new town for his work, and since your parents were extremely busy all day, you were burdened with the task of packing the entire garage.

a familiar, unexpected voice spoke out.

"need some help?" the smile was evident through her words, causing you to turn around swiftly.

"ellie? what are you doing here? how'd you get in? did my parents see—"

she hushed your worries with a kiss, pulling you behind a large shelf, shielding the two of you from the door leading into the house.

"came in through the window in the kitchen," she whispered on your lips, pulling a giggle out of you. "had to see you today," she whispered again, except with a hint of sadness, now.

you pulled yourself closer to her, eyes closed, memorizing the way her hands slipped under your flannel, holding you just as tight. a silent goodbye.

she felt your frame quiver against her and quickly moved her hold from your waist to your face, wiping any evidence of sorrow with her thumbs as you sniffled.

"sorry it's stupid that i'm crying it's just i'll...i'll miss you. a lot," you explained.

"it's okay...we'll be okay," she attempted. her words were as unsure as yours. "i'll write to you, and call you, and i'll visit when your parents are out of town," she promised.

you nodded, stepping away from her and toward the piles upon piles of unboxed items. she came up next to you, sorting through old pictures.

"what's this one?" she asked, holding up a photo, which you judged was very old from the way it had faded brown and had multiple tears along the edges.

in the photo, dated 1958, were your mother and father, when they were your age. they held hands, walking down your sidewalk. her in a dress, and him in a suit, just before their senior prom.

you chuckled, "those are my parents, but i've never seen that one before," grabbing the photo from her to study it, you recalled the night at prom you met ellie.

"we're gonna be late!" your friend, dina, had called upstairs where you were slipping on your shoes. it was the first school dance you had ever been to, making you extremely nervous.

"coming!" you shouted in return.

when you arrived at her mothers' car, you lifted up your dress to step inside. ms. woodward made small conversation with you, which dina suddenly interrupted with a sharp gasp.

"oh my god, i just remembered i heard leon ross asked you to prom! where is he? are you meeting him there?"

"oh, um, i'm not going with him," you replied with hesitance.

dina's eyebrows raised, "why not? he's super hot, nice, and he's the best player on the football team."

you shrugged, turning your head to gaze out the window.

"not my type."

you shortly arrived at school, and stepped into the gym, dina's arm linked with yours so you wouldn't lose each other in the bustling crowd.

the two of you met up with some friends and made your way to the center where everyone danced. at some point, dina nudged you to inform you she was heading to the bathroom. when she returned, she held up a blunt, wiggling her eyebrows.

you made your way outside, the cool air a refreshing contrast from the uncomfortable humidity of the windowless gym. you found a secluded space, yet there was a person leading against a wall who hadn't noticed you.

"who's that?" you asked dina, pointing at the person in a suit who was by themself.

"oh, that's ellie williams. she's the one that's gay, remember?"

"oh, yeah. okay."

you passed the blunt back and forth, chatting with dina. it was a beautiful and quiet night where you laid on your back, giggling and pointing out shapes strung out by the stars.

eventually, dina sighed and stood, noticing how people were exiting the gym in large groups.

"i should probably head home now, it's getting late."

you nodded, glancing at ellie, who was still alone, now sitting and gazing at the night sky.

"you need a ride?"

you glanced one more time. you couldn't let yourself go home without saying something.

"no, i'm fine, my dad should be here soon."

she hugged you, saying goodbye a final time before disappearing behind a building towards the parking lot.

you took a deep breath and headed towards ellie, having a spur of confidence from the weed.

you sat beside her. her eyes were on you, and time was standing still, waiting for one of you to speak up.

"hey," she said. hushed. confused. "do i know you?"

suddenly, this was a very very bad idea.

"oh, uh, no. you don't. i just wanted to say hi. you don't have any of your friends sitting with you," you pointed out, tearing your gaze away from her face to watch the groups of people leaving. soon, it would be just the two of you.

she scoffed at that, bringing her hands into her lap to spin her rings.

"don't have many of those."

"oh," you didn't know what to say. you assumed it was because she was outed as a lesbian just a few months ago. you heard the rumors, the words she was called, and saw the stares she received in the hallway.

you felt horrible for her, but figured she wouldn't want to talk about it anymore.

"i like your rings," you gestured to them. a small, kind compliment, but it didn't get the reaction you were hoping for.

"why are you here?" she lifted her gaze. was staring into you, searching for intention.

"my friend dina kinda forced me to go, so she—"

"no, why are you sitting with me right now? i don't need your sympathy. i know you know, everyone does."

your lips fell apart. you contemplated. it was absolutely ridiculous to tell someone you just met something to personal about yourself, but you felt the need to let her know. it would have helped you to know you have a friend that accepted you. someone who was just like you.

"i'm...i like girls too," a quiet whisper, only for her ears. "oh also, my names y/n," you added with a nervous chuckle. it was freeing to finally be able to tell someone, who you somehow knew would keep your secret safe.

she blinked. "oh."

you nodded, lips pursed. "you're the only one who knows. i can't imagine how it would be to have everyone at school know. especially if i didn't want them to. i just...i think you're brave, honestly, ellie. it's cool you can wear a suit to a dance. i wish i could do that," you rambled, watching as her lips twitched up into a shy smile.

"how'd you know my name?" was her only response.

the dark masked your blush, but the nervousness was still evident in your voice. "dina told me."

she hummed. "well, nice to meet you."

"yeah, you too."

it was a precious, innocent, memory. the start of something unexpected and beautiful, that swept you up like a sudden whirlwind.

in the deepest parts of your mind, there were some days you wished you had never went up to her. the thought that one day you would have to go your separate ways haunted you.

with one final look at the photograph of your parents, young and joyful, you placed it down. upon a shelf, was a photo of them on their wedding day, wearing the same giddy smiles as the day of prom.

one day, you wished, that could be you. finding ellie despite how long you would be apart on separate sides of the country, never letting your love die.

you glanced behind you at the girl who snuck past your parents to help you pack instead of doing anything else. she wanted to spend time with you.

that was all it took. you knew you would find each other again someday. against all odds. and everything would be okay.

you spent your afternoon in the castle's library, the one and only place you could find solitude. where no responsibilities weighed down on your shoulders. it was a peaceful, quiet moment until the doors swung open.

"darling? are you in here?" your father, the king, boomed out, his voice bouncing off the countless towering shelves.

you slammed the book shut, hastily slipping it into its rightful place and standing up, straightening out your dress as you stepped out from your comfortable place on the floor.

"yes, father?" you clasped your hands behind your back, forcing your posture up straight.

he rubbed his eyebrows with his thumb and pointer, as if he knew he could find you in the library off in your own world.

"you cannot continue to do this, dear. you will have responsibilities now."

you tilted your head with furrowed eyebrows, prompting him to explain.

he sent away his two loyal guards to have a private conversation with you.

"you know i would not have agreed to this if it did not depend on the fate of our kingdom," he began.

"father? what do you mean?"

he refused to look you in the eyes as he spoke. "you are to be wed to prince hill, the soon to be king of aragon. they threatened war, and this is the only solution to protect our nation and keep peace.

your eyes welled up with tears. you were left speechless. you swallowed your pride, nodding and wordlessly retreating to your room.

the days were dwindling away to when you would have to leave your home. just the night before you were destined to leave, your father knocked on the door to your room, where you had spent the majority of your days the past week.

you couldn't find any words for him besides politely asking him to let you get a good night's sleep.

your mouth remained sealed in the carriage, passing by endless terrains. you arrived at night, forming excuses so you wouldn't have to see the king. just not yet, i am not ready, you thought.

you slept in a massive room, tossing and turning on your new large mattress, yet you had no one to share it with.

the next day, you slipped past the guards into town. later that day, you figured you would tell them you merely wanted to greet the townspeople you would soon be ruling.

in common clothes, you perfectly blended in. the lack of attention on your presence was new. you could have gotten used to it.

you strolled past shops, observing and taking in the surroundings. the rush of breaking the rules, being where you weren't meant to be, caused you to roam the streets of the kingdom daily, until one morning, guards were stationed outside your room.

"oh, good morning," you greeted him. you couldn't see his face, covered by his helmet, and he stood so perfectly still, you wondered for a moment if he were just a statue.

the knight removed his—her helmet.

fear was not a feeling you experienced often. this was slightly different from fear, however. it was something you could never describe, even if you knew each word in the dictionary.

she was the most beautiful girl you had ever seen. she couldn't have been much older than you, but you could tell her adventures had aged her. you imagined what she had been through in her life, wondering if maybe, one day, she would tell you all about it.

her green eyes shimmered for a fleeting moment, when the sun and the reflection of her helmet met and agreed to place a shine on her.

"good morning, princess. i am knight williams. i have been placed at your service for the next month up to the wedding, and to prevent you from exiting the castle during the day."

"i—but—what? why?" your words failed you, tumbling out in an unorganized mess.

knight williams cleared her throat. "i am to accompany you to breakfast shortly to meet with the prince. i will wait outside until you are ready, princess lowe."

you grimaced, "you do not need to address me so formally. just y/n will do."

her mouth opened to reply, but you swiftly shut the door to prevent a response. when you emerged from your room, the knight gestured for you to follow her.

"i assume you have recently been too busy sneaking away to explore the castle, so allow me to lead the way, princess."

you chuckled at her remark. "that is true, however, i did tell you there is no need to call me princess."

she let out an exasperated sigh, "if that is your wish, y/n."

"and what is your name?" you queried, as you made your way down a winding set of stairs.

her jaw tensed. "it would not be professional to be on a first name basis with each other."

you hummed, finding excitement in challenging her, "it would not be fun if you acted so uptight all the time. it would be nice to have a friend."

"i am your personal guard, not a friend."

discouraged, you remained quiet during the remaining walk to the dining hall. knight williams settled into the seat beside you, while the prince sat in front of you.

he was a handsome man, but there was something that just wasn't there. you remembered when you were a child, when your mother told you love stories. she told you what love felt like. it made you nervous, giddy, and excited, among many other wonderful things.

it was quite a dreadful realization that you did not love the man sitting in front of you, who you would be wed to within the next month.

as the prince bragged of his accomplishments, you smiled and nodded when appropriate. your eyes often found knight williams.

stoic and mysterious, you wanted her facade of being forbearing to crumble away.

through the following days, you tested her patience. you had absolutely no interest in the prince, dreading the wedding day. but even if it was for just a moment, simply the presence knight williams eased your nerves.

you could tell her wall was slipping away, she was slowly letting you in, becoming more comfortable around you. you told her stories of your fathers' battles, your kingdom's drama, and how you wished you were not royalty at all.

"why is that?" she prompted.

you squeezed the pillow in your lap. a ball was scheduled later that night, but opposed to tending to your duties as a soon to be queen, you were laying on your couch with knight williams, chatting on a rainy day.

"sometimes...i wish i were you. you are so brave and strong, and you have been out in the world. been in danger. just once in my life, i want to protect myself, and have a story of an adventure to tell."

she remained silent.

"i suppose that is quite ignorant though. i wish to go through suffering and pain, just to get a taste of it."

she cleared her throat. "i understand. to be honest, i wish that i were you, sometimes. along with everyone in the kingdom," her chuckle following her words was a sound you could have gotten drunk on every night of your life.

your lips lifted into a smile, which she returned, after a moment of hesitance. time slowed, pausing so all there was, and all you hoped would be, was you and knight williams sitting on that couch on that rainy day.

her gaze fell, her shoulders tensing, slicing the frozen moment and returning to reality.

"you should prepare for the ball."

you swallowed, "yes, i should."

it was a horrible night. you shook hands with, curtsied to, and danced with men and women of importance for hours on end.

"sir, i apologize deeply, but i must head outside for a quick moment of fresh air," you bowed without waiting for response from a king of a kingdom you did not care about, and wove your way through the crowd until you pushed the gates to the garden open.

your hand traced the petals of pink flowers on a bush as you strolled through the garden.

the grass behind you rustled.

"it is just me, y/n," knight williams spoke.

you continued to wander in the garden, eventually coming upon a clearing where you fell to the ground, settling on your back.

"you may want to find somewhere else to sit, your dress will be stained—"

"i do not care. come lay with me. please."

the knight removed her helmet. then followed each piece of armor, leaving her in a crinkled white top and brown trousers.

"the stars are beautiful tonight," you told her. "i have seen drawings of constellations in my books, yet i have never been able to recognize them in the sky."

in a swift moment, knight williams took hold of your hand with herrs, pointing up to the sky in a pattern, which helped you to see a constellation which resembled a scorpion.

"wow..." you breathed. "show me more."

the two of you talked of astronomy, which you both had an interest in since you were children.

you giggled and pointed up at the sky, "that one looks like the prince. the star over there is his abnormally large chin jutting out."

you felt accomplished when knight williams let out a loud laugh. you wanted to know what she thought about the prince. did she see what you did? that something was missing from him, that you couldn't quite place?

"have you ever been in love?"

she nearly choked at your words.

"i—i have. why do you wonder?"

"i want to know what it is like. i think i am not in love with prince hills."

"i think you are not either," she whispered. her body adjusted to face yours. you mirrored her action.

"so? what is love like?" you repeated.

"it is...well...you want to spend all your time with that person. and they might make your stomach hurt. and make you very nervous. you may even think they are perfect."

her gaze did not falter, stuck on your curious eyes.

she chewed on her bottom lip. "do you feel that for the prince?"

"i do not," you replied, a chill rushing over your body. it could have been the autumn chill, yet you believed it was something different.

"i would rather spend all my time with you, knight william—"

"my name is ellie."

your heart raced. "and it is you, ellie, who makes me nervous. and i think you are as close to perfect a human could—"

your words died on your tongue, as she inched closer to you, the only noise being the grass which moved under her and your heavy breathing.

when her lips pressed against yours, you suddenly knew what love was. in hidden corridors, nights by the fireplace, away from the sight of prince hills, your love for ellie grew.

on the fateful day when stood in a white gown in a chapel, telling the prince you vowed to marry him, ellie sat with her head down.

you blinked a single tear from your eye.

in the castle, you made a simple excuse that you were exhausted to avoid spending the night with your husband. ellie stood outside your bedroom door, unsure whether or not to enter.

as soon as she heard your sobs, the door was flung open.

"y/n..." she whispered your name, stripping herself of her armor to pull you into her chest.

"can we run away from it all, ellie? i want to leave it all behind."

she held your face, grounding you with her sturdy touch.

"you have a kingdom to rule. i will always be here, though. i will never leave your side."

you nodded. "i know. i will always be yours."

the two of you drifted off to sleep, comforted by promises, trusting, because you just knew.

you blinked awake when the bright sun trickled through your blinds, the book on your chest unfinished. your wife beside you stirred awake.

"mornin'," she rasped, then gestured to the book. "whatcha got there?"

you had found the book with cobwebs and dust, a fairytale of a young couple destined to never be together by fate.

"it's an old romance book. hundreds of years ago they fell in love, despite all odds."

ellie smiled, "just like we did."

you scoffed, playfully hitting her arm. "you're such a sap."

a/n: omg im clinically insane

taglist: @skylerwhitwyo @ximtiredx @ohitsjordynn @gold-dustwomxn @elliesinterlude @fireflyels @trulygnomed @deluluwh-0-re @elliewilliamsmissingfingerss @emluvselandabs @ariianelle @jokerpokimoon @lonelyfooryouonly @lil-elliesgf @yuaaa05 @ourautumn86 @ucannotcompare @lunarpretty @cassharass @uberyellowsheep @444na0m1

[octuscle]

Last Night a DJ saved my life

Konrad was not a night owl. While his classmates left at 10 p.m. on weekends to turn night into day, Konrad either stayed home in front of the TV or babysat for the children of his parents' friends. He was not at all unhappy with this. He didn't feel like he was missing out on anything. Konrad was quite content with his life. And if he did let himself be persuaded to go out with his friends in the evenings on weekends, he was glad to be able to leave secretly at some point.

Tonight seemed to be just such an evening again. His friends were dancing, flirting, having fun. Konrad watched everything from a reasonably quiet corner, tried to look as cool as possible, and waited for it to get to 02:00. That seemed to him a reasonable time to say goodbye discreetly. But they had just arrived, he would have to be patient for another two and a half hours until then. As usual, Konrad was traveling by car. He didn't drink more than a Cuba Libre with Diet Coke in the evening anyway. And that's what he was in the mood for now. Although it was packed at the bar, one of the bartenders came straight up to Konrad. "Bro, long time no see! The usual?" Konrad nodded, a little irritated. Very well, he had an everyman face. Black T-shirt and black jeans were not original clothes. Probably the bartender had simply mixed him up. He took the drink, which was probably a whiskey or something, and handed the bartender his drink card. He just replied if Conrad was messing with him and said goodbye with an elaborate combination of fist bump and handshake that Conrad was surprisingly completely familiar with.

Conrad leaned against the bar counter and surveyed the dance floor. It was a good night. Breaking crowded and a good atmosphere. Still, there was something strange. He noticed people staring at him every now and then. Was it the chain? Yes, it was a bit extreme by his standards. But when he was partying… A quick eye contact with the bartender was enough, and his second rum was ready. Good stuff. Nevertheless, Canrad drank it down quickly. He felt like dancing now. The beats were good, the DJ was doing a very decent job. And he was a man with rhythm in his blood.

After half an hour, he needed a short break. With the agreed hand signal, Cainad signaled the bartender that he needed a water. The bottle came promptly and the bartender asked if his shift was about to begin. Cainad had no idea what the guy was talking about, but nodded and took a big swig from the bottle. Fuck, it was hot and he was pretty much spent. He took off his cap and wiped the sweat from his forehead. A quick glance at the clock. He still had half an hour. Eh? Why did he have another half hour? It was just about 00:30. The evening had just begun. Anyway, now he had to take a piss. Could it be that people were taking pictures of him? A girl asked for a selfie with him. Sure, he answered. And the chick ran screeching to her equally screeching friends after the picture was taken. So, no more interruptions now, his bladder was full to bursting. He took his cock out of his fake leather pants and shot his stream into the urinal. Fuck, the guy next to him was staring at his face, then at his cock, then at his face again. Is something wrong, Cainan asked. The guy just stuttered something like, "That beard looks really good on you, Cainan." And obviously got a hard-on. Awesome guy, Cainan thought to himself. If he had more time, he would disappear in a box with him now. But even for a quickie it was getting tight now. Do you have something to write with, Cainan asked. The boy took a pen from his hipbag hanging over his chest and Cainan wrote his mobile number on his forearm. I get off work at 06:00, check in, he said, and turned around. The guy called after him, asking if Cainan wanted his number too. Laughing, Cainan raised his tattooed arms and said he couldn't find it again anyway.

DJ C'S AT THE MIXER! The crowd hooted. For the next five hours, Cainan would now heat up the guests. Tonight, after months of touring and guest appearances, he was finally back on the road in his home town. He would give everything!

[fun-k-board]

If you could, Lackadaisy headcanons for a teen reader who wants to be part of the Lackadaisy Speakeasy. Maybe the reader likes the thrill

Pronouns used : None, no gendered terms.

Note(s) : When you say teen, I'm assuming young teen since 16-17 is not too far from Freckle and Ivy's age. Characterisation may not be accurate and criticism on how I portray them is very much appreciated.

Roark 'Rocky' Rickaby

Likes your spirit! Jokingly calls you the better cousin he never had which earns an eye roll from Freckle. I don't imagine you get out on missions much + it probably took ages to get in because you're fairly young, but when you do, it's chaos. If you get along with Rocky and even encourage his habits, then either the missions will fail or succeed but with broken limbs, at least three blown up buildings and a lot awkward explaining.

If you're not confident enough to say no and on the opposite spectrum, are sometimes the voice of reason, he calls you a mini Freckle and teases you about it constantly. I imagine he'd sort of becomes an elder brother figure regardless of what kind of a person you are, begging for Mitzi to let you stay even if you mess up often. You accept him for who he is, you're his friend, he wants you to still like him and he sees himself in you.

Rocky also gives you some sneaky sips of alcohol they get, hey, it isn't anything too much, and he compares it to church giving out wine which makes Freckle tremble in fear as his mother senses she needs to throw someone out a window. Besides, he worked hard to get it! Even if he was the one to screw the run around up, it's sharing and caring, friendship is very important.

Mitzi May

Has apprehensions about letting you join, it'd take convincing and by then she probably doesn't want to bring you on too many dangerous missions. Given how she is around Rocky, I don't think she'd be uncaring if you're similar to him. High spirits and an urge to please her, similar to the man in question, to her, you're a kid. She has trouble telling you no in a way that isn't tip toeing around the subject.

Even if you can also be useful and your begging is temptation straight from the snake, Mitzi will always tell others you're a kid and treat you like one, no matter if it's important or not in that situation. She feels horrible that you may not make it to the next day, but they're understaffed and need to get business up and running, Mitzi comes to think of you like her own after a while. Although, she wishes you weren't so eager to put your life on the life.

Ivy Pepper

I imagine she also loves your spirit, finds you adorable and will have the urge to become your friend, asking Mitzi to let you join and vouching for you. Ivy is also the only one to treat you on equal ground, even Rocky will just view you as a child in the end, but she tries viewing you as a friend first. This can he bad or good depending, but she doesn't want to pretend you're frail, this doesn't mean she won't crack down on you and be strict like an older sister.

Doesn't matter if you have two left feet and stumble, she will teach you to dance, you won't get out of it, and trust me when I tell you she's determined. The lessons consist of you stepping on her toes and laughing so hard you just fall on the ground.

Since she's fairly new to doing heavy jobs as well, only joining in as they are understaffed, she understands if you mess up sometimes and don't fully get what to do. Ivy was born into this life and teaches you the ropes that you wouldn't understand.

Calvin 'Freckle' McMurray

Uncomfortable to the max, he genuinely can't even look you in the eye for the longest time. He already had worries in joining himself, Ivy has been working in Lackadaisy for a long time, Rocky is... Uh, Rocky. But you? You're a literal teen who just likes the thrill of it, Freckle tries to be a good influence on your life and tells you not to join. Which he understands is incredibly hypocritical, but at the same time, he can't find it in himself to care about his hypocrisy too much.

Hopes to convince Mitzi to not put too much pressure on you, he is very attentive and any limp or struggle is met with a lecture that makes Rocky get flashbacks to Freckle's mother. Gets incredibly apologetic if you see him with guns and how insane he can be, regardless on how you feel, he's guilty that he may be influencing you badly.

Viktor Vasko

At first you thought he wanted you to die, an intense stare placed on you at all times with a smashed glass from his seemingly violent thoughts. But all he sees is a dumb kid, someone who needs to get out before this business kills you. He won't exactly be caring about it either, simply telling you that if you continue being reckless with your life, you will die. If you aren't careful? Maybe others you love.

It's worse if you end up bonding with him, even a little, he gets even angrier with those around you. He will not let you out of his sight if he can help it. Essentially? He's a very tough love guy, Viktor comes off as though he doesn't like you, which may be true on the surface, but deeeeeeeeep deeeeeeeeep down, he likes you a little. Maybe. Sometimes. Not often.

[ambiguouspuzuma]

Crooked

They identified the body by her dental records. Her bag was full of them.

"Well, she was definitely some kind of dentist." Detective Sidwell dropped the copies back to the desk. "That should make the identification easier."

"Dr Jane Doe." Sidwell's colleague, Detective Lita, was inspecting the other crime scene photographs. The gory ones. "With a nice big cavity, it seems - carved right in the middle of her chest. She bled out all over the place, although she'd probably say that's because she didn't floss."

"What are we thinking for our suspects?" Sidwell asked, ignoring the jokes. One of them had to stay professional, to focus on the job at hand - and somehow that burden always seemed to fall to him. "A colleague? Patient?"

"No, it looks pretty frenzied to me."

"I'm serious."

Lita took a moment to think it through. "I don't see it, to be honest. I know people hate going to the dentist, but not to the point of murder. In fact, I'll bet you it's nothing to do with her job at all. Dentists can get stabbed for the same reasons as anybody else, right? A fight over her love-life, a mugging gone wrong, heading down the wrong alley at the wrong time, that sort of thing."

"I'll take that action," Sidwell said, holding her to the bet. Professionalism had its merits, but the job could get pretty bleak if they didn't find their own ways to keep things light. "What's your wager? Buy me a coffee?"

"Sure, you can pick me up a latté from the new place downtown." Lita smiled her crooked smile, her teeth stained brown from coffees past. No sugar, though. I wouldn't want to be disrespectful."

With his compensation agreed, Sidwell knuckled down to work on the case. He knew he'd need to do the lion's share of the investigation, as he always did, and the bets were a way of getting something out of it. Or motivating Lita to put a shift in, when it looked like things weren't going her way. She wasn't often too focused on following up leads, but could roll her sleeves up when a bet was in the balance.

Theirs was an unusual partnership, and certainly not an equal one. Lita's lack of professionalism extended far beyond the jokes, and Sidwell often felt that she was less of a help than a liability. He was left to follow up forensics requests she'd forgotten to send, rewrite notes which she'd misplaced on the landfill site that she called a desk, and generally carry her through the working day.

She sometimes apologised, or thanked him with a drink, but showed no sign of trying to be better. Even on this case, charged with catching a murderer, she seemed disinterested in the details. A savaged corpse was enough motivation for Sidwell to chase down every suspect, and he wondered what exactly it would take to capture Lita's attention in the same way. If even this case failed to move her, he didn't understand why she'd wanted to become a cop in the first place.

"Tell me again," Lita asked. "You think she was some sort of orthodontist?"

"A rogue one, according to these reports. She messed up people's teeth intentionally, just so they wouldn't match their dental records. That's why she had so many in her bag. It looks like some local crime ring hired her to sort out their goons, so that they'd never be identified if they were killed."

It had been a tough one for Sidwell to get his head around - it felt like getting laser eye surgery to make yourself more short-sighted, or asking a plastic surgeon to add more wrinkles to your forehead, but it did seem to make sense from the perspective of a killer. If teeth could be reshaped at will, anybody on the system could be fitted with a brand new set, removing any prospect of a match. It was certainly easier than having to dissolve them.

He hadn't realised how often the police relied upon dental records to identify bodies - especially those who'd been disposed of carefully, with the rest of the face disfigured and hands removed - or quite how malleable those patterns were. It was like if there was a whole industry for designer fingerprints or DNA, shaping perfect whorls and helixes, and the state still treated them like unique identifiers. How many past matches had they missed because of Jane Doe's meddling? Even she could be on their database somewhere, hidden behind an unrecognisable overbite.

"A heterodontist, if you will." Lita brought him back to the present.

"No."

"I didn't realise the mob had a dental plan. So what are we thinking? One of the grunts saw their disappearance coming, and swung by to give her a stainless steel filling?"

"This feels like a professional hit. Maybe the higher-ups, if she knew too much. But either way, this isn't just a random attack, right? She's not been murdered for something unrelated to all those murders she helped to cover up. You have to concede that would be too big of a coincidence."

"Yeah, yeah, I know what you're saying," she conceded, hands up in mock surrender. "I'll buy you your drink. Where do you want to go?"

Even then she dragged her feet. Lita made him wait outside whilst she went back to get her jacket, then spilt his coffee at the first attempt and had to go back to the counter to replace it. Sidwell might think her a sore loser, if she wasn't like this about literally everything. Even when he finally had the cup in his hand, he suspected that she'd somehow got his order wrong.

"What's in this drink?" He recoiled at the first sip, but went back for a second. It wasn't unpleasant, exactly - just unexpected. Notes of almond, and something he couldn't quite place. "You just asked for normal milk, right?"

She shook her head. "I added a couple of shots. You deserve a little treat."

"That's not going to be good for my teeth."

"I'm sure our victim will forgive you." Lita grinned, as if to prove his point. "You're the one who was right about her, so you're allowed a little indulgence."

Sidwell tried to be polite, to set an example to her as much as anything. No wonder she'd been at the counter for longer than usual. The coffee wasn't awful, if he ignored the other flavours. Was this what she went for every day? He wondered if the sugar was to blame for her performance, which alternated from erratic to lethargic, like a hyper child who crashed in the afternoons.

Lita watched him drink in silence for a while, then seemed to find the courage for a question.

"Do you think that I'm incompetent?"

Sidwell weighed it up - probably for a second too long. So this was why she'd wanted them to grab a drink together, one way or another. She needed to talk about her career, away from the precinct. "I wouldn't use that word."

"So what word would you use?" she pressed. "Competent?"

"Well... okay, maybe not. Sorry."

Lita nodded. "No, that's good to hear. It'll work on the next guy."

"Huh? Are you transferring from the squad?" Sidwell tried to feign dismay, but knew that she'd always been the better liar. "Is this goodbye?"

"Sure," she said. "Call it a leaving drinks."

"You don't want something?" He gestured with his cup before another deep sip. "Gods, this is potent stuff."

"Only the best for my old partner." She sat back, watching him with something almost like nostalgia in her eyes. "A way of apologising, I suppose. How many of our cases have I delayed, or outright obstructed?"

"Oh, I wouldn't say obstructed," Sidwell told her, trying to find something nice to say. The truth was that she'd often been as much a hindrance as a help, and he'd be glad to get a better partner in her place. "That suggests that you were doing it on purpose. You were just... there's a lot to learn. I'm sure that you've always tried your best."

"That's right," Lita said, although she didn't seem too worried about it. "And if criminals profited from my mistakes, even the failed prosecutions, that's just because I was learning the ropes."

"Yes, I'm sure it's something like that." It didn't sound great when she said it. They were supposed to be detectives. Not for the first time, Sidwell wondered how she'd earnt such a sacred responsibility, or why she'd even wanted it. "But that's why you have a partner. To support you."

"Like you've almost solved this dentist case, all on your own."

"Almost, yeah."

"And you're sure it was a professional hit, from the group she did the work for? There's nothing I say that can persuade you otherwise?"

"I'm sorry, but no," Sidwell said. "You can check out the other angles if you like, and I'd never dissuade you from doing so, but I'm pretty convinced by my current leads. Why, do you know anything you haven't shared?"

"Of course not," Lita said, lying through her crooked teeth. Had he ever noticed quite how bad they were? "You've won me over. That's why we're here, right? I'm sure your theory is correct, and you'll get their names in due course. You just enjoy the rest of your drink to celebrate. Like I said, you deserve it - every last sip."

[theclaravoyant]

Ripples (Hen, Tommy) - 1400wd

AN ~ i am obsessed with sweet, sweet platonic content and the hentommy moment we may never get, so i'm giving us one.

In the middle of a building collapse (because of course they are), Hen and Tommy catch up. Read on AO3 (~1500wd)

-

It's coming down!

The ear-shattering screech of steel and concrete is the only thing Hen can hear for a long moment after she throws herself forward into the hallway. The roof is holding out here, although the concrete dust isn't helping as the air is becoming dangerously smokey. A torn electrical line spits out aimless sparks. But she's okay.

Grimacing against the oncoming headache, she gets to her feet and takes stock.

“Ravi, you okay?”

“Partial floor collapse back here when the ceiling came down,” Ravi reports from somewhere out of sight. He coughs. “I'm down a floor, but I'm okay.”

“Kinard?”

Nothing.

“Tommy? Come in.”

“Hen?”

His voice is weak, but she's not just hearing it through the comms. Hen turns back to the pile of rubble, sifting through sheets of ceiling plaster and trying to pinpoint where it's coming from. Soon enough, she sees a hand wave.

“Got you,” she assures him. “How you feeling?”

He groans. She frowns as she clears the last of the lighter debris, and can see why, because of course he's not been lucky enough to catch a bit of plaster and plywood. He's stuck face-down, the whole back half of his body pinned under probably a half a tonne of rubble.

“My leg,” he advises. “Right's okay I- I think. Left is really- oh, Christ, I think it's twisted up pretty bad. At least it was. I can't- I don't think I can feel it anymore.”

Tommy's breath shakes like he's fighting off a panic attack as Hen requests assistance. Possible spinal. Even when she manages to get both of their halligans under there and relieve some of the pressure, there's only so much that can be seen from here of his bloody mess of a knee. She can only confirm that it's highly unlikely his toes are actually moving. And sure, it means maybe nothing but maybe it means a pinched nerve or amputation or permanent paralysis or, or, or – in other words; no more being a firefighter, no more being a pilot, no more of a lot of other things too probably and that hurts so much more than the fact that half his body's being pulverised into the floor.

“Come on now,” Hen challenges gently. “You know better than to take it to the worst case scenario.”

He nods as best he can down here. He's starting to feel cold and shake and it's got to be some kind of stress response. Is he going into shock?

“I also know better,” he manages, “than putting myself on the call roster for the craziest firehouse in LA.”

“Yeah, well. We all do stupid things for pretty boys, hm?”

He can picture it, the smirk on her face; equal parts compassion and mischievousness. It makes him feel warmer and stop clenching his jaw. He hadn't even realised he was doing that. But she's right, and she's picked a hell of a time to bring it up, and it's working: thinking of Evan and his boyish smile and his big blue eyes brings his heart rate down, steadies his breathing...

Hen settles in beside him. She's close enough to check his brachial pulse, or grab him and yank him forward – possible spinal be damned - if anything else goes down, but as it is, they wait.

After a few breaths of reassuringly collapse-sounds-free silence, Tommy asks:

“So, how's Karen and Denny?”

It almost makes her laugh. He's still face down and bleeding under a roof and for his tone, they could be stood free and clear around an average office water cooler. Ah, the life of a firefighter.

“They're good,” Hen assures him. “Great, actually. You know, Denny's almost fourteen?”

“Wow. Way to make me feel old.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Evan tells me you guys have a daughter now too?”

“Mara,” Hen updates him. “She's nine. Came to us through foster. She's been through a lot but we're getting there. She's really strong, and she's working really hard, you know, to heal.”

“Good, that's good. Sounds like she's got a bright future ahead of her,” Tommy congratulates. Then a more sombre tone settles into his voice. “Sounds like someone else I know.”

It's something about having your whole life and livelihood hanging in the balance that brings out this sort of confessional in people, Hen knows. She's both always wary of it, and also sort of addicted to the kind of radical honesty that constantly spilling your literal actual guts tends to inspire. So even as she tries to get out - “Tommy, we don't have to do this,” - she braces herself to accept whatever is about to come next as if it's the last thing he'll ever get to say.

“I'm sorry I was such a dick to you,” he says, “back in the day. I wish I could say I just got caught up in the machismo and stuff but honestly I- I didn't know any better. And I didn't really want to try. But you, and Chim, you're some of the best firefighters out there and I didn't give you guys your due and I'm sorry.”

Tears prick at Hen's eyes, and it doesn't help the sweat and smoke and concrete dust that's still settling all around them. She'd patched over these wounds a long time ago but it feels nice all the same, freeing in a way she hadn't anticipated, to get an apology she was never going to ask for.

“You know,” Tommy continues, softer now. “I think you saved my life.”

“Uh, pretty sure I'm up to about six counts of that,” she jests, because she can feel it coming;

“I'm not talking about in the field.”

There it is.

Hen's breath catches in her throat as Tommy finds the courage to recount it. She's felt it coming for a long time now, maybe even years, but certainly since he'd strode into Chim's hospital room all giddy and covered with soot and with Buck she'd kind of wondered. Wondered what her crying and demanding to be seen in the middle of the firehouse floor all those years ago might have actually done. It had done a lot for her, but she'd never quite be ready to hear, let alone to contemplate, what those words might have done for a man who'd grown up in a military family under don't ask don't tell – the same policy that had kept Karen's dream out of reach until it was too late. For a man who'd not grown up having and valuing marginalised experiences; not having a bad-ass, butch as hell mother who'd always taught her to speak her truth, even if that truth was something said mother had struggled to deal with at first. He'd been taught how to be a man and a gentleman and a soldier and not much else. He'd never realised what intimacy could actually be like, what love could actually be like; he'd thought he'd scared off every girl he'd ever had because there was something abnormal about him. Something fundamentally unloveable.

“... Bits and pieces, looking back – you know how it is. I'd just always sort of thought there was something wrong with me. I'd never really seen any other possibility. Until you. So. I know I'm late to the party, but for what it's worth – I see you now, Hen. And I am honoured to call you Captain.”

Hen nods, trying to swallow the lump in her throat as some of those tears splash down her cheeks. In spite of herself she feels something reach back in time and touch her fierce, heartbroken younger self; a promise that it's going to be worth it one day.

“It's worth a lot, Tommy,” she manages. “Thank you.”

Then, the radio crackles back to life.

“Cap,” Eddie reports, “Ambulances from the 133 pulling up. 118 should be on you now.”

Footsteps clamour down the hall toward them, as Ravi, Buck and Chim rush in, backboard and hydraulic jack in hand. Chim pushes the morphine, Ravi pushes the pain point of the rubble away, Buck and Hen slide Tommy out and even though he yelps and moans Buck can't hide the joy and relief that breaks out on his face as they flip him onto his back and slide him onto the backboard in swift, perfectly matched unison like a well-oiled machine.

“We've got you,” Buck promises, squeezing one of Tommy's trembling hands with a sweaty, giddy smile. He glances over at Hen, and checks in - “You good?”

What do you think it is? he'd asked her once. The secret to happiness?

He's in the middle of a burning building, and it looks like it's pouring out of him now.

“I'm great,” she replies. “Let's move.”

[midasfantasy]

Sonder & Soul Ties

synopsis : every action has its equal opposite reaction. it wasn't your fault society failed you, turning you away at every turn for matters outside of your control. for a world built on fighting evil, people suspiciously had a way of ensuring there would always be more of it. so, you can't really be blamed for ending up surrounded by and helping japan's most wanted criminals. or for wanting them yourself.

content : BNHA villains x fem!reader

chapter warnings : cursing and the worst man known to humanity.

chapter notes : well, well, well. if it’s isn’t the consequences to your actions.

two, red herring

“What do I need to do to keep you out of my station?” 

Detective Tsukauchi, who knows you better than anyone at this point thanks to all your investigations, walks into the interrogation room you have been relocated to. He looks just about as exasperated as he had the last twenty times you both ended up in this room, his soul wavering around him like a dreary cloud of blue fog.

“In my defense, the guy approached me first,” You say, straightening in your seat some to bow your head to him in greeting. 

“The guy was one of Japan’s most wanted criminals,” Tsukauchi shoots you a withered look, and frankly you both shouldn’t be speaking so informally considering the context of your situation, but decorum was thrown out the window after the authorities of Japan realized you were probably going to spend the rest of your lives being familiar thanks to your uncanny luck. Or rather lack thereof. “He died protecting you, [S/N]-san. I think it’s safe to say the whole station is a little baffled.”

“I thought you’d be used to this by now,” You grumble, raising a brow at Tsukauchi as he takes a seat in the chair opposite of you. 

“Every time I think I’ve seen the last of you, you end up in an even bigger mess than before. Although I doubt you’ll be able to top this one,” Tsukauchi murmurs to himself, shaking his head. He drags a hand down his face, pulling at his morning shadow that he probably didn’t have time to shave down before being called into the station to deal with this… mess.

“We’re trying to understand what and why everything happened,” He continues, this time with some actual professionalism. Tsukauchi schools his features into his practiced work face, pleasant and encouraging, motioning for you to begin.

“Well, I can tell you I didn’t mean to be there,” You slouch into your metal chair, glowering when you hear Tsukauchi mutter an incredulous, almost amused, ‘she didn’t mean to be there’ as he marks down your testimony onto a notepad. “I didn’t even know what day of the week it was if I’m being completely transparent.” 

Tsukauchi thankfully does not comment on that last part. “And you had no connections to the Hero Killer prior to the attack?”

“No. Contrary to popular belief, I associate with only the highest morals,” You tut, crossing your legs and twiddling with your thumbs.

He raises a brow that you know means he smells bullshit, but you are not going to elaborate on it. He doesn’t need to know you have no friends.

“I’m glad, you’ll need a good support system after what happened to you,” Tsukauchi says instead, fidgeting with his pen. His soul fluctuates, solidifying around him more as he settles his resolve. “Although, and I’m sure I don’t have to say it, you do always have everyone here to keep an eye on you. All you have to do is ask.”

You uncross your legs and sink deep into your chair, sighing dramatically. “I know, Tsukauchi. Thank you, I’m sure the second we’re done here I’ll be getting the earful of my life for nearly getting killed.” 

“I’m inclined to give you an earful myself,” Tsukauchi sets down his notepad and pen down, his face suddenly much more hard-set. “The Hero Killer made a sudden appearance, and an even more sudden departure. But the Nomus began attacking well before the heroes even knew he was there. Evacuation procedures had already began, it’s inconceivable that you didn’t even hear—“

Tsukauchi cuts himself off, swallowing thickly before rubbing at the heavy bags beneath his eyes. “I’m sorry, [S/N]-san. There are so many people who care about you, myself included. Getting the call to come in and the debriefing on what happened was awful. No one here wants to see you… die, and certainly not in a way that could have been prevented.” 

“I’m sorry,” You murmur, voice small. You’ve almost completely disappeared into your chair, your arms wrapped around yourself in an attempt to appear smaller. “I didn’t mean to worry anyone. I… it’s stupid, I want to promise this won’t happen again, but I can’t even say that. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I’m sorry you all keep getting dragged into it.”

“[S/N], please don’t speak like that,” Tsukauchi looks remorseful as he leans over the table, laying his hands out palm-up to you. You sniffle, but untangle the ball of nerves you’ve become to let him hold your hands. “There is nothing wrong with you, and you know every person here who would jump at the chance to help you with whatever you’re struggling with.” 

“But I’ve caused so much trouble,” You mumble weakly, your shoulders shaking as he squeezes your hands, listening closely. ”How do you all not get tired of me?”

“You’re young, you’ve had enough terrible experiences to last you a lifetime. How you manage school, work, and everything the world throws at you is beyond me,” Tsukauchi says, smiling warmly. “It’s why we know you’re going to go so far. There won’t be anything that can stop you. We’re going to get you through this, okay?”

It feels like an impossible task trying not to cry again, you normally do good at keeping everything in check, but the last 24-hours have left you unbearably vulnerable. Your throat is thick with emotion as you speak, “Okay.”

“Do you feel up to continuing questioning?” Tsukauchi implores gently, thumbs rubbing at the tops of your hands. You nod quickly, pulling away and straightening in your seat like a decent human being. 

“Yeah, I guess I should just come out and say I don’t really remember much. I was… really drunk,” You do not make eye contact as you speak, folding your fingers in your lap and taking a deep breath. “It’s mostly small moments, like flashes.”

“We can work with that. Tell me what you see in these flashes,” Tsukauchi picks up his pen and notepad again, his eyes kind when you finally brave a glance up at him.

“Well,” You start, clearing your throat, “I remember the… creature, it lifted me off the ground. Oh— I remember it had talons too, and a lot of exposed organs.”

“I’m assuming you mean the Nomu?” Tsukauchi ventures, writing something down. When you don’t answer, he looks back up at you.

“What’s a Nomu?”

“…Seriously?”

“Is uh… is it like an invasive species?” You ask, feeling more stupid by the minute, Tsukauchi’s deadpan humbling your already wounded ego. “I don’t watch the news, just tell me what it is and stop being judgmental!”

“You don’t watch the news?” Tsukauchi asks incredulously. He looks distressed and upset all over again, eyebrows waning downwards as his eyes widen with horror. You make a panicked expression before shrugging and laughing nervously. “So—wait- when you called him ‘That Guy’, you seriously have no idea who the Hero Killer is? And you don’t know about the USJ attack?”

“No?” You blink, jumping in your seat when Tsukauchi slaps his forehead and murmurs to himself. “Is this, like, really bad?”

“Super bad,” Tsukauchi sighs, rubbing his temples. He then proceeds to launch into a detailed explanation of who Stain and the League of Villains is. He also explains what he knows about the Nomu, but no matter what he says you do not feel any better about its existence. 

You also don’t feel any better about killing Stain, but it does comfort you some that he’s no longer able to hurt people.

“And that’s why I’m the one interrogating you. I’m the one in charge of the League’s case and because the Nomu targeted you, I’m trying to gather more information on why. Anything we can get to understand the League better, will bring us closer to defeating them,” Tsukauchi finishes his explanation, running a hand through his hair wearily. 

“That makes more sense now, I was wondering why they made you come all the way here in the middle of the night when someone else could’ve run the procedure,” You hum thoughtfully, messing with your shoes under the table as you shift in your seat. “I thought you just cared a lot, but I guess that’s not the case…”

“[S/N],” Tsukauchi says, and you can see the metaphorical gray hairs you’re giving him.

“Joking!” You laugh, kicking his shin playfully under the table. 

“Well, I don’t think there’s much more I can ask,” Tsukauchi shakes his head with a huff, stepping on one of your toes and chuckling when you yelp. “It sounds like your luck just got the better of you again.”

“So… we’re done?” You ask, trying not to sound too hopeful.

“We’re done,” Tsukauchi confirms with a pleasant smile, laughing when you jump from your seat to cheer and stretch. 

“God I’m so tired, and I’m soooooo behind on assignments. I guess I have an excuse for being late now though?” You begin chatting to yourself, not catching the way Tsukauchi checks his watch and pales. 

“Speaking of late— we’re way behind schedule. The Chief wants to see you, why don’t you go find him?” Tsukauchi ushers you from the room, ignoring your confusion as he grabs his coat and rushes about.

“Uhm, okay. Do you…” You start to ask, watching Tsukauchi place his hat on and adjust his buttons, already beginning to walk away. “Tsukauchi?”

“Hm?” Said man pauses, looking over his shoulder at you from half way down the hall. He really is in a hurry, what could be so important?

“Do you have to leave so soon?” You ask, taking a few steps closer and giving your best puppy-dog face. You probably look crazy, considering you’ve got tear stains, scratches, and blood shot eyes. 

“I’m sorry, [S/N]. There are a few others I need to investigate, and you kno—“

You cut him off by wrapping your arms around his waist, burying your face in his shoulder and sighing as loud as you possibly can. He’s still for a moment, but eventually he melts, wrapping an arm around you and rubbing your back softly. It’s not often you get to touch people, or their souls. But when you make contact with Tsukauchi’s deep blue soul, you pull it against yourself tight, focusing every happy warm feeling you can into it. Your silent apology for all the headaches you know you’ve caused him.

“Is it really so hard to ask for the things you need, troublemaker?” Tsukauchi teases, poking your side and chuckling as you struggle in his grasp with a few curses about him being a traitor.

“No, I’m perfect. Nothing is difficult for me,” You insist, finally managing to pull away, just narrowly missing him trying to ruffle your hair.

“I wonder why you did not call when you ran into danger yesterday then,” A new voice speaks, and you immediately turn to salute, recognizing their gruff voice instantly.

Tsuragamae gives the worst tiniest amused huff at your display, which is a victory in itself, because you know he’s most definitely pissed at you. You are not excited to get a lecture from the Chief of the Hosu police station. 

“I will be driving you home,” Tsuragamae informs you, his snout twitching as he sniffs the air. “Leave Tsukauchi-San to go, he has important business to attend to.”

You glance between the two men, blinking a few times as you try to figure out whatever silent conversation they’re having in front of you. They’re exchanging intense eye contact, and then, in the creepiest way possible, they nod at the same time before walking in opposite directions. 

“I— hey-“ You sputter, unable to process what just happened. Tsukauchi is on route to exit at the back of the station, going who knows where; and Tsuragamae is walking towards the front, probably to fetch his car for the ride back to your shitty apartment. 

“Gosh you two are impossible— Bye-bye Tsuka!” You call, jumping twice in the air and waving dramatically like he’s off to war and using a nickname just to be a dick. Spinning on your heel, you jog after the Chief, knowing you can’t really afford to keep him waiting when he’s already in a bad mood. “Tsuragamae, wait up, you’ve got long legs—“

You pause at the lobby, slapping your hands over your eyes and groaning. “It’s so bright, did you guys finally replace the LEDs?”

“…No, I was not aware they needed to be replaced,” Tsuragamae says, but you're too busy blinking open your eyes and squinting at the windows to care.

“It's already morning?!” You gasp, running through the front doors ahead of Tsuragamae, getting outside and squinting at the sun remorsefully.

“It is nearly the afternoon,” Tsuragamae says, walking up behind you and knocking the back of your head gently to get you to stop your staring. “Which means we need to hurry along. I am a busy man, I have got places to be.”

“Don’t patronize me,” You grumble, following after him and sliding into the back seat of his ridiculously nice car. 

He won’t trick you with his textbook psychology, you’ll put as much distance between you both before he can start an argument you have no chance of winning anyway. 

Tsuragamae’s forest green soul is tense, that much you are certain of. But Tsuragamae always has a stick up his ass, so it’s kind of difficult to get a read on where the tension is coming from. You want to think it’s because a person died after being taken into custody, but you’re pretty sure Endeavor is going to take the heat of that blow. The alternative is that he’s going to go full parental-mode and scold you within an inch of your life. 

You really hope it’s the former. 

.

.

.

The first few minutes of driving are so dreadfully quiet that you know for sure it’s the latter. 

You’re not exactly a chatterbox per se, especially not with Tsuragamae, but you know how to hold a conversation. In contrast, pleasantries are not Tsuragamae’s strong suit. He has a level head in all case scenarios, and can rationalize virtually anything, all while constantly staying at a fact-based standpoint. This depersonalizing can make him insensitive at times though.

That's why you know he’s waiting for you to start the conversation, or maybe ask him what exactly he wants. He doesn’t want to feel like a jerk for getting straight to the point, even though it's obviously the only thing on his mind right now. Men.

“Do you want to explain yourself or did you get enough of an interrogation from Tsukauchi-san?” Tsuragamae asks, finally breaking your stalemate. He had nearly five whole minutes and still managed to find the most offensive way to open the conversation, charming. 

“I’m not sure what I can say to get out of trouble with you,” You reply after another minute of silence, biting at your lip and staring intently out the window. “I had no idea it was so dangerous to be in Hosu right now, if I had been aware, I would’ve never left the house.”

“You own a phone, do you not?” Tsuragamae prods, sounding a little too condescending for your tastes.

“I do, but I’m not addicted. I mostly watch it for YoTube tutorials or music. I don’t watch the news,” You say, doing what you think is a fantastic job at keeping the annoyance from your tone. 

This was apparently the wrong thing to say, because Tsuragamae’s soul literally spikes with frustration. You gulp and hold onto your seatbelt a little tighter, preparing for the worst. 

“What do you mean you ‘don’t watch the news’?” Tsuragamae is just full of questions today it seems, because where you were expecting an outburst, he just sounds mildly miffed. 

“The news is full of propaganda, I can’t be wasting my young impressionable mind away staring at a screen that wants me to submit to capitalism,” You respond cattily, basically asking for an argument. Yolo.

There is no argument though. Only more silence. It sets you on edge, because Tsuragamae always has an answer, even when he doesn’t want to. 

“Endeavor says he saw you near where the Nomus were attacking,” Tsuragamae says plainly after the fourth minute of silence, catching your eyes in the rear view mirror with a glare that lets you know you’re in trouble. It tells you he knows you weren’t there by accident. It tells you he doesn’t believe you. 

You decide at that moment you hate Endeavor, What a snitch. 

“…I was trying to find paramedics,” You lie anyway, breaking eye contact in favor of staring out the window again. You’re willing to die on this hill even if it means defaming Endeavor and cursing his whole bloodline just to convince Tsuragamae of your innocence. In fact, you’re in such a bad mood you might just get home and block him on Twitter. 

“Oh? Did you get injured before being attacked by the Nomu?” Tsuragamae asks, one of his ears flicking. He's using his no-nonsense tone now, and it successfully makes you feel scolded, even though he hasn’t truly started laying into you yet. 

“No. There was… a kitten. I found it in the rubble,” You say, knowing you probably sound every bit like the liar you are. There was a kitten, but Crowly certainly wasn’t injured. Crowly was also a traitor, because Crowly abandoned you in your hour of need. “It reminded me of Tamakawa, I couldn’t just leave it.” 

“And so you went towards the chaos, searching for help. Right. And I am supposed to believe this and let you off with a slap on the wrist?” Tsuragamae’s voice is more steeled now, and it’s the first time since before your grandmother passed that you feel like a child getting scolded again. “Forgive me, child, but I think there needs to be appropriate consequences for ignoring public law and deliberately putting yourself in harm's way. Putting others in harm's way.”

“I wasn’t trying to,” You grit your teeth, blinking your eyes rapidly. The feeling is different than from when Tsukauchi was lecturing you. You know that Tsuragamae is coming from the same place, but the way he goes about getting his point across can be uncomfortable, if not downright upsetting. “I can’t keep having this conversation. I don’t throw myself into situations like this willingly, all I have control over is what I do after.”

“You don’t watch the news, you go out alone at night without letting anyone know, and now you’re dragging your feet when asked to take responsibility for your actions,” Tsuragamae scolds, his voice gruff. You take a deep breath, reminding yourself that he is just worried for you, and that reprimanding you is just his way of showing it.

“I’m not a child,” You say slowly, your frustration mounting. “I appreciate everything the police force has done for me, I know I would be a lot worse off without you all. I do care.”

“You do not act like it,” Tsuragamae barks back, and it’s your last straw.

“I invited you all to my high school graduation, I celebrate my birthdays with you, I call just to talk about my day and ask you to name the cats outside my apartment,” You’re ranting now, voice raising in pitch and volume. It’s no better than what Tsuragamae is doing to you, taking out his frustration, but damnit weren’t you the one who almost died? “I do half my homework in someone’s office or the lobby, I don’t go anywhere for the holidays because I’d rather be with everyone—“

Your nails are digging so deep into your palms you can feel as they break the skin. You know it’s a low blow even before it leaves your mouth, but you’re so exhausted from the last twenty-four hours that you can’t help yourself. “Wasn’t everyone there when my grandmother died?”

The silence that follows is as long as it is painful, because you aren’t sure if you’ve crossed a boundary, and Tsuragamae’s lack of a response somehow feels like more of an answer than any insult he could shoot at you right now. He has to know that it’s killing you, it’s why he’s been doing it this whole car ride, torturing you with the possibilities. 

“I am sorry, I did not mean to lose my temper on you, child,” Tsuragamae finally replies, but he sounds defeated. Even his soul slumps, which is so utterly peculiar for him, it’s like seeing a white flamingo. It takes all the wind from your sails, and you deflate, not even realizing how tense you had gotten. 

“I’m sorry too, I know you guys are just worried about me. If I want you to stop treating me like a child, I should stop giving you reasons to worry,” You say with a mighty sigh, hanging your head and resting it against the back of his seat. 

“Well, that would certainly help,” Tsuragamae agrees, tone softer than before. Knowing that he isn’t angry at you lifts all the remaining weight from your shoulders. 

It isn’t long before he’s pulling to the side of the road and parking his car in front of your building. It must look strange to your neighbors, having the chief of police as your personal chauffeur. Considering all the weird shit you get up to, it probably isn’t all that surprising though.

“I will walk you to your door,” Tsuragamae says, already unbuckling. 

You freeze, panic setting in as you try to come up with an excuse. That eviction notice is still hanging on your front door. “Uhm! Maybe not— I uh- probably have guests!”

Tsuragamae pauses, giving you a pointed stare. 

“Spot and Harley are probably outside, they uhm— they might get scared?” You venture, knowing damn well the cats Spot and Harley like Tsuragamae worlds more than you. 

“If you would rather spend the time alone, I understand,” Tsuragamae replies, putting his seatbelt back on. You sigh quietly with relief, and open your car door, stepping out and bending at the waist to give him one last wave goodbye.

“I’ll see you soon, old man,” You say brightly, your most charming smile on as you wave enthusiastically before slamming the door and scream laughing in your dash away from his car.

“I had better not!” Tsuragamae shouts as he rolls down his window, a few more warnings mixed in as you giggle your way up the steps of your apartment. 

When you turn the corner to walk down the corridor to your apartment, you find that suspiciously enough, there are no guests. 

‘That's odd.’

You reach your door, and find it’s already a crack open. It sets off your alarm bells, but by nature you’re a curious person, so instead of running down to wave Tsuragamae back to help you investigate, you push open your door like every main character in a horror movie. 

Inside, sitting on your bed, is a man in his late fifties. He's got on the most ancient pair of glasses to survive the 13th century, a vibrant purple suit that has definitely seen better days, and a scarf. In May. 

His soul is a terrible green color, nothing at all like Tsuragamae’s. It’s foul and yellow tinted, and it reminds of how a leaf yellows when it dies. It sags and pools near his feet, sliming around him. You follow the movement with your eyes, distress mounting. 

“Dude, you didn’t even take off your shoes,” You say with horror, looking down at the footprints he tracked over your carpet. 

“You’ll have to forgive my rudeness,” The absolute monster who soiled your cozy home (jail cell), says, looking at you with growing interest. “I’m here to ask you about your future.”

“I don’t need help finding God,” You fume, snapping your fingers and pointing to the door, which is still standing open. “You can take your proselytization and knock off Prada pumps to the public service building down the street. I don’t do charity work.”

“I’m not a preacher,” The man says, still sitting on your bed, and still pressing his musty shoes into your carpet. His soul jumps with vexation, but you're certain that you're angrier than he is at this moment. “I want to know what you’ll do now that Stain is gone.”

“Hopefully my lab report. I’m a day late,” You sass, stomping closer to him, knowing full well you would lose in a fight if things escalated. “If that’s all, can you fuck off?”

“Kicking me out already? You haven’t even heard me out,” He says, looking up at you through his ugly ass glasses with a smile that’s more gums than teeth. 

“You know what, I'm just gonna call the police,” You say, taking out your phone and swiping to the call app, already dialing Tsuragame’s personal number. You make sure he can see you doing it too, because you are a bitch who’s always ready to be called on her bluff. 

“Wait—!”

‘That's more like it.’

“Oh? Don’t want me to?” You ask innocently, pressing each number with added theatrics. “You know how to make it stop.”

He does in fact know how to make it stop, because he grabs your wrist and snatches your phone from you. You were fully expecting him to leave your house, and you aren’t entirely sure why someone who broke in would do the morally right thing. Maybe Tsuragame has a point about the whole reckless thing. 

“Stupid girl, do you not hear me? I’m trying to give you an opportunity,” He seethes in your face, squeezing your wrist. His breath smells like smoke, forcing you to wrinkle your nose and crane your head away from him just to make it clear you think he stinks. 

“And are you not hearing me? I don’t want an opportunity from someone who broke into my house and can’t take no for an answer,” You spit back, struggling to yank your wrist away, swinging your foot out to knock his shin. Neither attempts work, as he is both stronger and quicker than you. 

“Your door was unlocked, I wouldn't call that breaking in,” He argued, throwing you full force at your mattress to face plant into the comforter. You roll over and push yourself up again as quickly as you can, only to freeze as you come face to face with him hovering inches away from you, glaring behind his lenses. “I’m trying to reconnect you with Stain’s colleagues. Get you some friends when you’re clearly down on your luck, if you truly want me to leave you alone while the whole world scrambles to find you, I will.” 

“What…” You stare back at him, wondering if you're still hungover and just misunderstood. “What do you mean the whole world is scrambling to find me.”

The old man doesn’t answer you, instead he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, clicking at the screen before turning it to you to display a video. He presses play and you cast him a curious glance. “You wanted to know.”

The video plays, and it details Stains life. It’s clearly propaganda, and you can feel your patience waning. Just as you're about to slap his phone from his hand and demand your own back, a clip of Stain raving begins to roll. What you failed to realize last night thanks to how wasted you were, is that Stain is absolutely captivating. Not in an attractive, charming way, but in a way that makes you sit and listen because his determination just pulls you right in. 

So you sit, and you listen. It’s a miracle you managed to completely miss this speech last night, because it’s absolutely terrifying. But it captures your attention, and you get so sucked in that you forget what you're supposed to be looking for until Giran pauses the video just before it ends. He forces the phone closer into your face, and that’s when you see it. There, just behind Stain, is your fallen figure.

It’s just your luck that both the Nomu and the green-boy were out of the shot, but you remain just enough in frame to vaguely decipher your features. You glance down at the view count and blanche at the number, feeling horror strike you further when you spot just how short it’s been up for. 

“You’re in the frame for less than two seconds and yet you’re the star of the show. Nearly every comment is about you, who you are, where you are, and what your connection to Stain is,” Giran pulls his phone away from you to look at the screen himself, opening the comment section and scrolling through them. “Strangely enough, no one seems to think you’re innocent. Looking at you now, I’d have never guessed you were capable of killing 46 people.”

“I was proven innocent in court for those deaths,” You say defensively, your heart rate picking up with every second. From the angle you’re at, you can’t see what the comments are saying, but you can imagine how obsessive they are. Fans of serial killers are the worst type of people. 

“And isn’t that something?” Giran says more than he really asks, like he’s making a point. He sounds so sure of himself. Certain that you killed those people. You wonder if that’s what everyone thinks. If they think you killed every person you helped move onto the next world so they wouldn’t be alone.

What if the whole world thinks you killed your grandmother?

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears now, the rushing of your blood growing until there is nothing but a dull ringing echoing in your mind and your body trembles. Did Tsukauchi and Tsuragamae know about this? Why wouldn’t they bring it up? Why wouldn’t they warn you? 

Swallowing the fear that’s paralyzed you is nearly an impossible task. Your stomach feels like it’s dropped to the bottom of the Earth, and your anxiety has nowhere to go. Giran’s mouth is moving with words, but you can’t hear him over the damn ringing in your ears. His ugly face isn’t helping you calm down at all. 

You really wish you had your phone so you could call someone to help. You really really wish you could check to see what people are saying about you. You really really really wish the world would just stop for a minute so you could calm down. 

How can you be in your own home, in your own bed, and feel so out of place? Out of body? Maybe you do need therapy, or god or whatever. It’s getting difficult to see on top of losing your sense of hearing, and you know it’ll only be a matter of time before you black out. But how can you black out when apparently a bunch of killer fans are hunting you down? You aren’t safe. You aren’t safe— You aren’t-

Just as it feels like there will be no salvation from your mind, a wave of calm washes over you.

It’s so sudden and dramatic that you actually sway in your spot, feeling light headed. The blindspots in your vision get worse for a few seconds even as you regain control over your body, blinking deliriously. You’re so wildly confused by it that you just pat at your forehead until you’re staring at the gross guy hovering over you.

The calm fades, leaving you empty and deeply confused, but at least your hearing has returned. 

“…it’s funny though, they were there too yet all anyone can talk about is you and Stain. Be sure not to lay the ideology on too thick when you meet ‘em,” Giran’s words are finally louder than the ringing. He must really like the sound of his own voice to be talking for so long with no answer from you. He's still going through the comments on that stupid video. “The boss isn’t too fond of the Hero Killers ideology.”

“You talk too much,” You grumble, bringing a hand up to rub at your temples. 

“You can call me Giran,” The man says, almost curiously as he pockets his phone with a grin just as slimy as his soul. 

“…I’m [S/N],” You return slowly, still feeling like someone’s just dropped a bombshell on you. 

“I know,” Giran says smuggly, finally taking his phone from your face and leaning away. “I want to help you, [S/N].”

“You can start by taking your shoes off,” You reply, standing from your bed and huffing, but all the fire has left your words. You’re biting at your lips, pulling at the dead skin you get caught between your teeth as you stare between Giran and his phone. 

“Outside it is then,” Giran turns, finally walking out your door and into the hallway. He summons a lighter and cigarette from literal thin air, and lights it up, taking a drag before you can even reprimand him for it. 

“How exactly are you going to help me?” You ask, following after him. 

“Every villain in Japan is feeling motivated by Stain’s little going away speech. But he’s not here to follow up on any of that talking he did, so a lot of people have this overwhelming motivation to do something about it,” Giran explains, smoke leaving his lips and stinking up your entryway. “Not everyone can be a lone-wolf like Stain though. So they’re looking for a new leader.” 

“And what, they think that’s me?” You ask dubiously, squinting your eyes at him and waving a hand in front of your face to try and prevent yourself from breathing in any ash. 

“You aren’t much of a leader,” Giran remarks, looking you up and down. “Though, neither was Stain. Not sure how you managed to get close with the guy.”

“Uhm yeah,” Is your intelligent response, because telling Giran you were not close to Stain seems like a stupid idea.

“It’s too bad he’s going to Tartarus. But I guess it makes sense. With all the public craze, I wouldn’t put it past someone to try and break him out. At least there, he’ll be locked up for sure,” Giran takes another drag, flicking some soot onto your welcome mat and rubbing it in with the toe of his shoe.

Thankfully for him, you’re too preoccupied with what he said to flay him for it. “In Tartarus? Is that… what the news said?”

“Yeah, Endeavor made a public announcement and everything. Figures a guy like him would end up being the one to capture the Hero Killer,” Giran shrugs, then sends you a curious glance over the top of his rims. “Did you not know?”

“Uh—“ You stumble, realizing you came dangerously close to releasing apparently top secret information to someone who definitely shouldn’t know about it. “No, I just got out of investigation. I was at the station all day, and night. I haven’t gotten a chance to check the news.”

‘Why didn’t anyone say anything? Why are they keeping his death a secret?’

“They investigated you?” Giran asks, with a sudden wave of suspicion. His nasty slime soul spikes with thinly concealed threat, and you force your strongest poker face. 

“And they found me innocent of any crimes, just figured I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time,” You say smoothly, making direct eye contact with Giran as you do. He hesitates for a moment before relaxing, going back for another smoke, soul evening. You aren’t much of a liar, you never have. Thankfully, half truths and leaving out important information suits you just fine.

“You’re lucky, not sure how you managed that with all those lie hound-dogs they’ve got, but maybe you aren’t as useless as you seem,” Giran concedes, dropping his cigarette and stomping on it twice before turning away from you. “Good to know, I’ll be in contact, [S\N].”

“Huh? Wait, you— you’re leaving? Now?” You stammer, panic seizing you. You still have so many questions. What about helping you? What about the opportunity? What are you supposed to do with everything you’ve learned?

“Send me a text when you make up your mind, I put my contact in your phone,” Giran tosses your phone at you (which you totally didn’t forget he had), and you dance around to try and catch it, sighing with relief when you manage to get all ten fingers around it. 

And then he’s gone, only the smoke of his cigarette at your feet still burning. You check your phone screen to see that he had in fact left a contact on your phone, but it only had the text message function available, the phone call button grayed out. 

Just below, in the notes section, he’s written “The job will pay well, don’t miss out.” You laugh at the absurdity, and also a little at his audacity, but mostly you laugh because this is the first job offer you’ve ever gotten in your whole 20 years of living. And you don’t even know what the job is. 

’What a dick. I should kill that guy.’

➢ . . . . .

Giran is a fucking liar.

If you didn’t hate him before, you certainly do now. “I’ll contact you soon”, quickly became two weeks of waiting for him to reach out. When you’d sent him a text, he didn’t even bother answering, the asshole just left you on read.

It ends up being the most stressful two weeks of your life. Your homework managed to pile up after a single night of absence, and your recent slump hasn’t made it any easier to catch up. 

And by slump, you mean late-night internet diving about any information you can find on yourself. 

You know it’s stupid, but it’s so tempting, and the anxiety of not knowing what’s coming keeps you up at night anyway. Your logic was to get it out of your system in one go, just to relieve your anxiety and get back to your norm.

And then relieving the anxiety became scrolling on Reddit for hours under Stain forums. And Yotube. And TigTog. And Twitter, which you’d managed to block Endeavor on. You’ll never forgive him for ratting you out. 

From what it seems. No one knows where you live. It’s at least not public information, which you have the police department to thank for. They keep your documents under tight restriction thanks to how many people already hated you for your “accidental” appearances at their loved one’s passing. 

How Giran found you in under 24-hours is beyond you, but he’s clearly a man who has connections, and he’s been the only one. It isn’t much of a comfort, but you’re safe for now, so all you can do is hope.

Matter of fact, the only thing anyone seems interested in talking about you is your involvement with death. It’s like they don’t really care about you, they just care about how your mind works, and how you managed to ‘get away with murder so many times’. 

It’s dehumanizing, and awful to read, but it’s also deeply addictive. You couldn’t admit you had a problem until the tenth day, when the first thing you did when you woke up was reach for your phone to check if there had been any new posts about you (there had). Checking your phone first thing when you wake up was so unlike you that you just gave up and deleted most, if not all your apps to try and cut the problem off at the root. 

The worst part of it all is that you feel as though you can’t talk to anyone about it. You have the station, but you aren’t sure how much you trust them right now. Stain is dead, and yet the whole world knows a different story. As far as they’re concerned, you don’t know that the dark side of the internet is making you out to be some princess of darkness, a harbinger of reckoning. You literally just told both Tsukauchi and Tsuragamae that you don’t watch the news, and they know damn well you don’t talk to anyone outside of your close knit circle at the police department. 

You don’t want them finding out about Giran, because then they’d know you’re getting evicted, and that would really suck. You also don’t know how you’re supposed to justify not immediately calling the police when you found a stranger in your home. Yeah, too many lectures. You’ll deal with internet-anxiety. 

You’ve got, at best, a week and a half before you’re effectively homeless. That isn’t Giran’s fault, nor should you reasonably be placing all your bets on him getting you a job (because seriously, who the fuck trusts a guy like that), but you’re anxious and out of options. 

When he does finally message you back, it’s one short text with the most cryptic description of a meetup spot you’ve ever seen. You genuinely stare and scratch your head at it for five minutes before going to sleep and deciding it’s a tomorrow-you problem, like you usually do.

Tomorrow-you suffers greatly for the consequences of her actions though, because you remain just as stumped about what the hell you’re supposed to be doing, where you’re going, and if you should be telling someone. 

Giran doesn’t tell you what type of job it is, so you don’t bring anything with you. If he wanted you to, tough shit, he should’ve been more specific. You set out on foot to the random ass part of town Giran mentioned and figure that you’ll just have to check everywhere until you find him. Then, in all your mighty wisdom, you don’t tell anyone where you’re going. Again. 

‘What they don’t know can’t hurt them.’

Finding the location Giran gave you was ridiculously difficult, much more than it probably should have been. You’re well aware you’ll need your wits about you, and that these types of dealings are typical for whatever mess you’re about to land yourself in, but for fucks sake street-smarts have never been your thing. 

The only thing you’ve learned from ending up in a detective’s office every other weekend is that you have the survival instincts of a dodo bird. 

When you do finally make it to the sketchy building Giran had vaguely (very vaguely) described over text, you take a moment to consider your options with your hands on your hips. This was probably your last chance to turn back and keep your innocence. You might not be shrewd, but you were aware enough to recognize that whatever ‘job’ Giran had for you, probably wouldn’t be entirely legal. Not when he asked you to meet in a building like this. 

Whatever. It doesn’t matter what he’s got planned, there can’t possibly be a bigger crime than that ugly ass scarf and purple suit coat combo. You’ll be fine.

Shrugging, you make your way through one of the doorless entrances and into the building, careful not to step on any broken glass shards. The inside is just as abandoned and sad looking as the outside, but the air is remarkably more stale. If you breathed deep enough, you could catch the faint trace of something dying. 

There’s not much of anything around besides bugs and weeds. This place isn’t just abandoned, it’s straight up deserted, reclaimed by nature. You’re sure if you weren’t specifically avoiding checking, you would find several spiders in any available corner or dark hole. 

The only real sign of human occupation is the faint sound of voices somewhere deeper in the building. It takes you a bit of wandering to figure out exactly which direction they are coming from though, because your senses are dogwater. 

When you do, you’re careful to walk quietly, tiptoeing as slowly as possible because realistically you have the stealth skills of a seagull. The voices get louder, and you can make out the familiar grimey tone of Giran among them.

There’s a door that’s mostly closed, with more light than any other room peeking out from under the gap. You’re certain it’s the right room, and you think yourself clever as you lean against the wall next to it. You have every intention to be the gossipy-eavesdropping-bitch you were always destined to be, but freeze when the talking stops and one of the voices speaks much louder than before. 

“You can stop being shy and come in now,” The voice from the other side of the door commands. Damnit, busted.

Pushing away from the wall, you move to stand in front of your entryway to hell instead. You try to peek at the crack between the doorframe to figure out if you can see who is inside, and if you really want this. If there’s hookers on the other side of this door, you’re gonna run for the hills and move to a tiny island in the middle of the sea. 

You cringe as you push the door open more with your foot, its hinges scream out impossibly loud. Inside, are three figures, who all turn to look at you.

Giran, who’s green soul flickers with interest as he spots you. An admittedly very cute looking girl with twin blonde buns on either side of her head and a soul of such a pale red color it looks pink. Finally, a man with large patches of burn scars and piercings lining every inch of his skin, who has the most pained purple soul you’ve ever laid eyes on. 

“Ah, there she is. Meet Stain’s apprentice.”

[alyssacat013]

Sooooo I’ve now watched episode 7 of season 2 of Twin Peaks. I wasn’t planning on making another post so soon. I figured I’d make an update every 4-5 episodes, but this one was too big not to get its own post.

You see I watched episode 6 last night before I went to bed and then had to get up the next morning and pack because I was going on a flight so I wrote my last update at the airport terminal while waiting for my flight to board and then decided to watch episode 7 on my flight (it was a short flight-only an hour) since I had downloaded the episodes on my iPad and wow I was not expecting anything that happened. After the episode ended I was in shock the rest of the flight and the car ride home. I literally stared at the screen with my mouth wide open.

Quickly before I talk about the REVEAL, I’ll discuss a couple other important things that happened this episode. In this episode we find that Harold committed suicide and also ripped up Laura’s diary although Cooper was able to piece some of it back together. Also, we find out that Ben Horne and Laura had a relationship of sort and he says that he loved her, which like what, seems like many people were in love with this girl. This then leads to Ben getting arrested for suspicion that he killed Laura which I honestly knew right away it was definitely not him. Also, this episode at the end we find out that Catherine has been the Japanese business man in disguise this whole time, which I honestly was not expecting that, interested in what her end goal is I’m assuming something to screw over Ben.

Okay, NOW let’s get to the ending. Last episode we found out that Bob was hiding as/inhabiting someone and that this person was frequently at the Great Northern Hotel, well now it’s been revealed that Bob is actually Laura’s dad, Leland!!!!!! The mirror reveal scene was so chilling and such a great reveal. Also, the subsequent murder of poor Maddy afterwards was so horrific and disturbing. Like the cuts between Leland dancing with Maddy and Bob biting and kissing her were so creepy. The whole surreal dreamlike quality of the scene, with the bar singer’s voice intercut with Maddy’s screams made an unforgettable scene.

Also, looking back it’s crazy how everything makes sense now with this reveal. Like Leland works for Ben Horne so of course he’s at the Great Northern Hotel a lot. Also, it makes sense why Leland said he remembered Bob as a kid living in a white home next to them and yet there was no record of Bob ever living there. Also, it makes sense why Laura’s mom and Maddy were the only two people who had those visions of Bob because they were living with him. Also, I’m now sure it was Bob/Leland who shot Cooper and probably attacked Dr Jacoby because both of those incident were from a man wearing all black with black leather gloves and we see Leland in an all black outfit with leather gloves when he kills Jacques. Also, it makes sense why Laura has been haunted by Bob since she was a child because he’s been her Dad the whole time! No wonder poor Laura was so messed up when she got older she was living with a monster her whole life. It also makes sense why when Laura and Ronette were kidnapped and tortured that Ronette was able to escape. They mention in the show that the reason they think Ronette escaped was because Bob was so intently focused on Laura for some reason that he didn’t notice Ronette escaping and now we know why. Also, I guess this explains why his hair went suddenly white overnight for no reason.

Honestly, this reveal was the most heartbreaking outcome because that means Laura got killed and tortured and r*ped by her own Dad. It’s too horrific to even process. Also, Leland seemed so sweet and kind and just a poor man struggling with grief that this reveal was like a shot to the heart. I’m honestly still in somewhat disbelief over it and I’m equally desperate to continue the show while also being scared to. I’m so curious what impact Maddy’s death will have and if we’ll see more of Bob now that we know who he is and how are Cooper and Truman going to figure it out.

Anyway, this episode was incredible and this show is incredible and I can’t wait to see what comes next.

[ghost-go-roasty-mctoasty]

So basically the Collectors aren't allowed to interfere with all the life that they collect according to their rules. If I'm to make a guess by the picture at the bottom, they were treated like gods.

And looking at all these pictures, there seemed to always be 3 Collectors "ruling" at once.

So the collectors had a war with the titans, and obviously the titans won, which is why no one on the Boiling Isles know anything about The Collectors. In the pictures here the titans seemed to be potrayed as evil, but since we only have the current Collector to go off of, they dont seem very trustworthy,, although this Collector has never lied tbf.

But on the pictures here, the Collectors look like theyre greeting a baby Collector (this current one?), and then all the baby titans are playing with a that baby Collector. These two beings probably spent time together, since it was pointed out that theyre somewhat equal power-wise, I assume a war broke out between them? Maybe the current Collector started messing with them too much and the titans didn't want to put up with it. Maybe the titans were actually good, which may be why they just locked him away instead of killing him.

But where have all the other Collectors gone? Are they all trapped in their own discs? And are there any more titans out there? The titan trappers said that there was only one left (King) but they were also living on a hand from a completely different dead titans body, so its possible theres another baby titan out there...

Anyways, I noticed that some of the pictures were torn up, similarly to the ones in Belos' mindscape. Belos tore up those pictures because he didnt want the memories haunting him, did The Collector do that for similar reasons? But nvm I zoomed in and theyre just copies of the other pictures lol. Maybe Eda ripped them up when they were transporting her back her as the owl beast?

I have so many questions!! Is this kid the last collector? Did the Collectors kill all the titans? It would make sense since the titan trappers worship the Collector...

I can't wait for the next episode 😭

[silverbladexyz]

May I request headcanons of Yukito the “insanely smart and hot detective” with a fem s/o who is the “insanely really smart and divine old money heiress of her successful family”😩

My insanely smart and hot anon, why of course~ ;)

The image does not belong to me. It belongs to it's original owner.

TW: None.

Ayatsuji with a really smart fem!S/O who is a divine money heiress

-Two words: power couple

-An intelligent and sassy detective with an equally as intelligent and wealthy partner? The vibes you two give off scream 'cool' and 'dangerous'; almost as if Fyodor and Dazai were in a relationship although this isn't about them

-Ayatsuji loves how smart you are. He thinks a lot of people in his life are slow and dumb, and it’s annoying how he has to keep explaining things to them. So having you as his partner is really refreshing for him because he finally has someone who can keep up with his speed of thinking

-He brings you out to a lot of his cases. Two minds are better than one, and especially when it’s two smart minds working on a case. You help to go through all of his deductions and the evidence and help find any mistakes that he may have made. Ayatsuji is quite thankful that you’re able to cover up his blind spots

-And since you two are around the same IQ level, expect Ayatsuji to hold a lot of conversations with you that normal people would’ve had a headache trying to keep up with. Whenever you two are in a deep and ‘intelligent’ conversation, it’s almost as if you’re talking in code with him. Ango has spent countless nights without sleep trying to figure out what you two meant

-Ayatsuji plays a lot of mind games with you for fun. You never back down, and sometimes you even beat him at his own game. Afterwards you two even play a few rounds of chess and cards with no signs of exhaustion; even chatting amicably as you were trying to checkmate his king

-Also since you’re rich, buy some expensive and fancy things for him! Not anything too big and extra, but he would probably prefer matching accessories because it’s a really cool reminder of the love you have for each other. One time you bought him a princess outfit when he asked you to wear a maid outfit that he bought #PrincessYukitoAyatsuji2023

-In the rare times when you two would not be playing mind games or solving cases, Ayatsuji would make dolls with you. He has a talent for stitching them, and you were obviously intrigued with his interest, so you asked him to teach you the skill. When you finished making your doll, Ayatsuji would prop it up with his other dolls in his basement and regularly clean it

-Expect times when Ayatsuji would teach you some new stuff, whether it be general knowledge or case etiquettes. He loves teaching you, and sometimes even teases you for not knowing it earlier. But you get back at him by teasing him about stuff that he doesn’t know about

-Basically you two are a powerful and intelligent couple that must not be messed with, or there’d be hell to pay

By the way I didn’t tag some people because I am not sure if they have read Gaiden yet, so please let me know if you have read Gaiden and/or Stormbringer so I know which posts to tag you on.

@pixyys @nekokinax @pianotross @xxelfmamaxx @yuugen-benni @yukitomybeloved @arisu-chan4646

[fang-and-feather]

A Third Chance to Live

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Characters: Robert Hooke, MC

Words: 1,096

Tags: Canon Divergence, Hints of Magical MC, Background Isaac x MC, Fluff

Summary: One would think that after dying once and becoming a vampire, it would take out the strangeness of waking up when you thought you were dead. It didn’t. But in the midst of his confusion, he met with Isaac's girlfriend, the woman to whom he owns his third chance at life, even if she has no idea how that happened either.

My entry for the Wish Upon an Aide event by @wordycheeseblob and @lorei-writes, for the Yellow Prompt: Life

Although I had more ideas, this is probably the only one I will finish in time (well, "finish" if you count a chapter as finishing, but it's that kind of chapter that can kind of stand on it's own, at least form my pov). I chose this one of all the ideas I had because I felt like it was something quite unique that although I thought of long ago, I don't think i would have another chance to actually write since unique things usually make e nervous...

Also, I feel like this fic sounds a little too shippy from all sides, and that was not the intention 😅

IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist / AO3 Link

One would think that after dying once and becoming a vampire, it would take out the strangeness of waking up when you thought you were dead.

It didn’t. Waking up this time was equally disorientating.

Where was he? How did he survive? The only strange thing he could remember as he lost consciousness was a strange warmth that spread from the wound, enveloping him.

He stood up, but not without having to find purchase on the wall. It hurt to breathe too deeply, making him check to find the wound hadn’t fully closed. Did that mean he wasn’t out for too long?

He took in his surroundings. A simply furnished bedroom, with the curtain drawn over the window, only a sliver of light escaping through it and indicating it was daytime.

With the fog clearing from his mind, he realized there was only one place he could be in. That didn’t explain why he was alive, though.

He could feel the light burning in his throat, making finding food his priority. But he had no idea where to find the kitchen, and moving was difficult. Sometimes he had dizzy spells. At others, his legs threatened to give out.

He had to stop to catch his breath when someone finally found him.

“Mr. Hooke? You shouldn’t be out of bed.”

It was Isaac’s lady - had she told him her name? A lot of his memories were foggy, - who rushed to his side, balancing the empty tray she was carrying with one hand and pressing the palm of her free hand against his forehead.

“You’re burning up. Let’s get you back to bed and I’ll get you some Rouge. Even if you don’t think you need, I think it should help.”

“Thank you.” Robert nodded and let her guide him back.

It was strange to find himself alone with her again, with the woman being so nice to him.

Despite his messed up memories, he was aware of what he had done. They had smoothed things out before his ‘death’, but it still felt strange that she was so comfortable and so worried with him.

He was happy Isaac found someone like her.

It took a few minutes, but she returned smiling, bringing, besides the Rouge, a pair of sandwiches and another cup.

“I brought food and coffee too, but you don’t need to eat if you don’t want. I just thought it would be nice.”

“That is nice of you. Thank you.”

Although vampires didn’t need to eat, she went out of the way to make him something in case he wanted.

“You’re welcome. I always find that good food helps when you’re ill, if only by improving your mood. Although I just improvised something I could make quick. And I don’t even know if you like coffee…”

“This is enough.” He smiled, reassuring her, before drinking down the Rouge and then turning his attention to the food. “Will you sit with me for a moment?” She nodded and pulled the chair from the desk closer to the bed. “How long I was asleep for?”

“About five days. Your wound was taking too long to heal, and we were worried. Isaac especially. He’ll be happy you woke up.”

Robert nodded. He would be happy with the opportunity to talk to Isaac again, but that reminded him this was his third shot at life. Not many people received a second chance, let alone a third. And this time, he hadn’t chosen to come back. He had no idea why he wasn’t dead.

“Mr. Hooke?” The sweet, worried voice interrupted his thoughts. “Should I leave so you can rest?”

“No. I was just lost in thought.” He thought of asking Isaac about this latter, but she was there too. Maybe she would have answers. He wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it for long until he had answers. “Do you know how I survived? Both of us know I shouldn’t. What happened?”

She furrowed her brows and looked down at her hands that closed into fists around the fabric of her skirt before speaking, voice just above a whisper.

“I… I think I saved you. But I have no idea how I did that. My body reacted on its own and… there was a light… your wound started to close, but not enough that you were out of risk. Whatever energy had overcome me was gone in an instant. Comte said it was a miracle. Whatever they shot you with should have been able to kill a vampire. He said I should be proud to have been able to save a life but… well, I am happy. But I’m also confused, and… maybe I didn’t fully recover from losing that energy either. And up until now we had no idea if you would really survive…”

“I admit I am curious about how you could save me,” Robert interrupted her, seeing how distressed she was, “but I will also be forever grateful to you for this.” He stood up, feeling a little more stable, and bowed to her, making her look up at him with surprise. “After wasting my second life with senseless grief, chasing something that no longer exists, I am glad for a chance to restart, and that I will have an opportunity to talk to Isaac again. And it’s all thanks to you.”

“You’re welcome, then. I am also happy that Isaac will have a friend like you. Now,” she stood up, “I think I should get back to work and let you rest. I will tell Isaac to drop by when he comes back.”

“I’m looking forward to it. Thank you for keeping me company.” He bowed again, and she mimicked the gesture with a smile.

“It was my pleasure, Mr. Hooke. If Isaac doesn’t come home soon, I’ll drop by again. If you don’t mind.”

“I would love that. And you can call me Robert.”

She told him her name, extending a hand for him to shake.

Robert hoped their relationship would remain friendly, since she was the one who saved his life and they would both be sharing a close relationship with Isaac, and he knew she had priority.

Isaac went from a man who lost everything to one who had everything while he wasn’t around. Maybe it was selfish of him to seek to restore the relationship they once had. Maybe he was too stuck in the past.

But he was given a third chance. Something he thought impossible. And he would try not to have so much to regret this time.

I did't know if I should tag people on this, but...

Tag List: @tele86, @nightghoul381, @natimiles, @bicayaya, @eventinelysplayground, @2-lines-and-a-circle

If you want to be tagged/untagged on future writings, you can reply to this post or send me a message

IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist

[ming-sik]

How do you think canon would react to your au?

there's definitely a lot of them who are mostly unrecognizable, like tuuli's personality overhaul is so substantial and her original character is so flat that i think that baon!tuuli would scan as a completely different character who happens to share her name if they ever actually met. there's also a lot who are similar enough that there wouldn't be a huge clash, although canon angelica and baon!angelica are very different, you wouldn't notice the differences unless they were called to perform a task without using enhancement magic and angie suddenly had to deal with dyslexia symptoms. so im just gonna do the highlights

canon rozemyne would probably find baon!rozemyne to be a bit of a coward. myne entering noble society under conditions that force her to constantly keep the danger nobles pose to her in mind means that she has to act way more cautiously than canon rozemyne gets to since she cannot solve any problem that canon rozemyne solves by brute force. i do think she would be very worried about the fact that rozemyne is hartmut's retainer. surprisingly, otherwise she's the character who changes the least since i already find her interesting to mess around with.

ferdinand is basically the same in personality with only the details changed. he's an analytical, callous proponent of noble society who is the way he is because he views his own life as a tool. he's a version of himself who wasn't surprised by myne and therefore didn't allow her to influence him. that said he comes across as way more villainous simply because we don't mainly see him through the perspective of the one person he likes and respects, we see the way he treats everyone else.

hartmut would be one of the more divergent comparisons. in the AU he fixates on printing itself instead of rozemyne, fascinated by the myriad of practical and social challenges to implementing widescale printing. this comes after rozemyne earns his respect by accurately and viciously chewing him out in a way he's never experienced. his initial assignment to help with the printing industry ended up in him slacking off and sabotaging it bc he doesn't care, but despite everyone else knowing it was common sense to just wait for it to be over and try to pick up the pieces, rozemyne pointed out that he was being such a jerk because he didn't have any actually helpful knowledge since he refused to listen to lower-status nobles long enough to learn the basics and didn't back down when he tried to strongarm her into giving up. idk if canon hartmut would be impressed by rozemyne being good at arguing(or extremely stubborn when it comes to books) but baon!hartmut's main problem is that his entire brain revolves around whatever he finds interesting and anything outside of that is for the most part beneath his notice, so when rozemyne interests him and makes printing interesting, he latches onto it. he mirrors ferdinand, but because of his age she's able to push their dynamic closer to peers and unlike ferdinand he comes to see her as someone who is intellectually his equal, as well as them being very similar kinds of autistic. also he ends up playing the comedic role sylvester does since he's a silly guy who is her boss but who she isn't especially scared of and has a personal rapport with.

sylvester is as always my special little guy. i cannot decide if he and baon!sylvester would totally get each other or fight to the death. i push sylvester a Lot farther, with him being forced to choose and choose and choose whether he cares more about preserving his status or doing what he feels is right with the cost of doing what he feels is right getting higher every time and eventually him having to accept that his fundamental worldview is incompatible with him as a person. canon sylvester might think he's kind of a dumbass since most of those problems are solved for him by someone else so he doesn't have to deal with them or just don't exist in the first place and while in my heart sylvester is just waiting for the right push to go full communist i dont think that's supported by canon if we don't ignore the back half of the series. he spends a lot more time as an antagonist or at least a character who is definitely doing something wrong, and unfortunately his silliness is very constrained by how on fire everything is for the majority of the story. born to game forced to adult as some might say

charlotte might view baon!charlotte as a kind of wish fulfillment, at least at first. since charlotte decides to take advantage of wilfried's condemnation by launching a story-long mission to become aub ehrenfest at any cost, she's a wayyyyy more active force in the story. she's a massive schemer and although her goal is to stabilize ehrenfest and become an aub who can save it from the brink of collapse, she is ultimately incapable of doing that on her own using the tools of her nobility, almost getting turned into georgine's pawn through trying to exploit her without fully understanding who she's up against. how much and how viciously she fights with sylvester is definitely very different, since their conflict between sylvester wanting to keep charlotte safe in the immediate future and charlotte wanting her life to be as valuable to her duchy as possible, plus an entire childhood of bad blood from sylvester's neglect mean that charlotte actively hates him for a lot of the story.

detlinde is more expanded than changed. detlinde's narcissism as a result of the abuse and neglect she's under means that she clings until her fingers bleed to the idea that someday she will be big and powerful enough to leave all the haters in her dust. she's aware that her mother only cares about her as a pawn, but she's bad at that and so she rails against it, refusing to throw herself at whichever noble her mom demands she curry favor with when all it has ever done is make people hate her more. charlotte is initially just a target georgine gives her, but charlotte is too committed to gaining her as an ally at first and too sympathetic to her later to give up. detlinde is in a very complicated place for a lot of the story, torn between wanting to stay in her comfortable shell or follow charlotte to the terrifying world of trying to function within society instead of hoping to spontaneously escape it one day. this kicks into overdrive when georgine starts treating charlotte as the daughter she always wished she'd had, which explodes her and charlotte's relationship, and is unfortunately After hartmut is engaged to detlinde on charlotte's promise that he would be a reliable ally in her own quest for the throne. detlinde & hartmut end up being a team of antagonists once charlotte defects to the revolutionaries but that's way later i havent thought about the details yet. probably they're tragic antagonists because that's fun :)

[neko-naruto]

from hero to the hunted

Summary: a brief glance into the ways John Dory coped with the isolation, and how the hell a Pop Troll managed to survive for twenty years in the mountains

Warnings: gutting a massive fish (it gets a bit gross), grieving, check Ao3 port for full tags

Authors Note: I've been thinking of how in the fuck he survived out there in isolation since I saw the movie, now I've written about it so I can sleep easy at night. anyways! hope ya'll enjoy and if you do consider dropping a reblog or checkin the ao3 port, it really means a lot

"It's just me and my armadillo now, I guess," John Dory said, out loud, too himself, even though no one else existed in this empty forest. It was just him and his armadillo, which he was going to kill for meat, but chose against it when he realized she was sort of... Hollow.

She didn't have any meat, she was just an exterior, why she was like that he didn't know. And he would've left her alone, forever, but she decided to nuzzle up against his leg and chirp at him and he couldn't deny that. Only a monster would deny that, so he picks her up and starts on his way to carry her through the woods so she doesn't step on anything sharp.

It's kind of stupid, adopting an armadillo for no reason other than 'she looked at me and made sound' but he's a big brother. He's the oldest brother, he's spent his entire life before leaving being the caretaker. Their parents just paid attention to each of them equally and it didn't feel like enough, so he decided to start taking care of his little brothers too. Packing lunches, doing laundry, just being as good a brother as he could be before the band started.

And now it's been four years since he left, he's twenty one and he's probably going a little bit crazy with the isolation. Just a little bit nutty, a minuscule amount of absurd with how much he hasn't interacted with anyone or anything in years. Maybe that's why he's picking up this little creature and carrying her around like she's his little sister. He needs a placeholder to fill that void of a little creature in his life, that'll fend off the depression if nothing else.

"I'm gonna call you Rhonda," John stated as he placed her down on a log and started on foraging on some small twigs and slightly larger rocks for a fire pit.

Rhonda just chirps in response.

-/-/-/-

"I think it's a big one!" There's a laugh on his voice as reels in dinner for the night. It fights, thrashing and kicking up a massive splash of water every which way.

Rhonda is quick to amble over and bite the back of his vest tugging him just a bit whenever he lurches forward. Step by step she slowly pulls him back while keeping the cord from snapping with the tautness of it.

"Thanks girl, I'll save you the liver," John promises, it elicits a purring chirrup from Rhonda. He yanks the rod one last time and the fish is in the air, falling down to the ground in seconds, "Hold it down for me."

The armadillo does as told, pressing one paw on the tail fin to keep it down despite it's writhing. She bats it once or twice with her other paw while John grabs his knife, although it's more of a cutlass compared to the size of his body. He drives it through the eye and holds it until the fish stops moving, Rhonda steps back, resting on hind legs as John works.

He works smoothly really, digging the tip of the knife into the tender underbelly of the fish and running it up to the base of the jaw. Blood is minimal, but it still drips from the frayed flesh as he pops on his goggles. He takes a deep breath before diving into the complete and utter darkness. It's dripping with whatever rests inside of a fish's organ cavity and it used to make him feel like vomiting, but that was a long time ago, back when he could still carry Rhonda in his arms.

It's a pulsing and oozing mess, but he persists, cutting the cords and just hauling them out like they're anything but organs. He takes extra care with the liver and tosses it to Rhonda specifically before sliding out and moving onto cutting off the head.

"I hope you like that liver, this guy was living offa swamp scum," John commented as he lopped off the head, severing the spine with a practiced ease to his motions.

He's twenty seven now, ten years into his isolated life in the mountains and the forests and the swamps. He doesn't know how much longer he's gonna stay out there for either, he's probably a freak to the average Troll society now. He's happy here anyways. He has Rhonda, he has his sword, he has a group photo of him and his brothers before everything went wrong.

He's absolutely odd these days, positively so, talking a shocking amount of thoughts that enter his head. Eating whatever plants don't look poisonous and having Rhonda hit him with those defibrillator paws if he passes out from said plant. Cutting open giant fish and other assorted creatures that he comes across. He can store most of his stuff inside of Rhonda anyways, he could sleep in her if he wanted too, but the nights are never cold enough he has to leave her alone at night.

"Hey girl, can you get a fire going for me?" He asked rather loudly as he worked on trying to wedge some of the bones from delicate fish flesh. It was a tedious process but he'd rather do so than risk Rhonda choking on some bones.

There's a loud rumbling purr before Rhonda walks off to get some sticks.

-/-/-/-

It's a bad night, age thirty and he's spending another night laying awake thinking of his brothers and he left them. He thought he dropped this habit on his sweet, sweet twenty sixth birthday where he found an abandoned barrel of lager. He drank himself into a waking coma that night and came too about a week later, semi naked and covered in tinsel and hay. He still shudders to learn where that tinsel came from, but even more so about where the fuck the hay came from.

He's sleeping inside of Rhonda that night, the cold bite of winter air too much for him to bear. He's stuck staring at the ceiling with his few mementos of what his brothers were lay beside him plastered to a wall. He knows they've changed by now, for fucks sake, he's changed, albeit, probably for the worse considering how feral he is. He eats meat, he's always on the run from some monster, he talks to his armadillo van, he definitely wouldn't be able to just assimilate back into society.

John heaves a sigh, tears are hot on his face and his body shudders as he exhales. He misses his brothers. He misses the nights he'd spend falling asleep nestled against Spruce cause he stressed too hard over the song line ups, or he worried too much about his brothers in one way or another. He misses having Floyd there to try and calm down, he regrets not listening to his younger brothers worries and soothing words. He misses all the jokes and the choreography that Clay would carefully craft for them, he misses their secret handshake. He misses Spruce, he misses Floyd, he misses Clay, he (somewhat) misses Branch.

He doubts they miss him, he broke the one law of eldest sibling: never leave you baby brothers. He shattered it, he ran off to the mountains and he's been in said mountain for thirteen years hiding and scavenging. He left, he abandoned them to go be 'brolone' and he's experiencing a intense wave of regret again when he was sure he was over it.

"This is fucking stupid,"

He's an idiot, he thought he'd be fine alone. He adopted an armadillo, he killed her parents, her siblings, he killed all of them and took her in to replace his brothers. He can't go alone, he's not built like that. There's no more stress to keep all of his pieces together, he's gotten so comfortable in the mountains the wilderness fear has gone down too much to act as a substitute.

John just rolls onto his side, away from where his few memorabilia of his brothers exist. Out of side out of mind. He's crying because he lost his favorite vest to the woods, not because he lost his brothers due to his own hubris. Definitely not, and maybe if he tells himself that lie enough times he'll believe it.

[felixravinstills]

hello it’s me again!! i just read your latest fic (obsessed) and it’s got me thinking about Diana and Alma Coin. i was wondering if you had any thoughts or headcanons about them and their relationship that you’d be willing to share?

(the fic mentioned in ask. the fic people should read before that one.)

Hello!!! Always excited to hear from you! Also for everyone who doesn't read my fics, please note that the Diana here refers to my OC, Diana Ravinstill, not Diana Ring (although she is named after her). She's Felix, Artemisia (my other OC), and Festus' daughter, (Biologically she's Felix's and Artemisia, and they're in a throuple with Festus who co-parents her).

I think I mention this briefly in All That You Can Do, but these two definitely connect over grief. Coin loses a daughter and a husband before the events of Mockingjay and her life's probably been defined by all the limitations of living underground to escape the Capitol while Diana's life is also just equally defined by things and people she's lost.

They're both weirdly comfortable with how unsure they are of each other's genuine feelings/attraction to the other. There's always this element of Diana being a major source of the funds for the Rebellion while Coin is obviously Thirteen's president and has more political power than Diana. They both need each other to ensure their own power, they're both using each other a little bit, and somehow that gives them comfort. I think it stops them from thinking their relationship is too real or serious.

Going off that point, I imagine Coin is reluctant to see herself in a serious relationship because of having lost her husband and daughter and the pain of that while Diana saw what her parents' deaths had on each of them and entertaining a serious romantic entanglement would mean (to her) that she's liable to be hurt and fall apart in the same way

Of course, Coin dies and in any world except All That You Can Do, Diana's first reaction is 'well, of course, this happens.' I think after all the loss in her life. She'd just think it was the cherry on top of the cake that as soon as she gets the revenge she's spent nearly half a century waiting for, the woman she's been seeing gets assassinated.

Since Diana's personaliy/behavior changes a bit depending on what specifically happens with her parents. Close Your Eyes! Diana imitates more of Festus' old casual and laidback demeanor to hid her hurt, and I think that means that she and Coin are closer to the bickering dynamic of Festus and Felix which these women transform into something almost antagonistic while It's Still You! Diana leans into her more into a genuine personality that engages with issues that Coin might be having so in a funny coincidence the dynamic becomes more Artemisia and Felix.

(The fact that Felix ends up being the Coin parallel is alarming to me, resident Felix enjoyer who occasionally worries that my version of him will stray so far into the morally questionable that only I'll be able to love him... <- part of that could actually be a bad summary for It's Still You)

And also because I apparently love giving characters the hardest dynamic to explain ever (and I've mentioned this in at least one Author's Note), but I can imagine a throuple situation with Diana, Coin and Plutarch could exist, but Diana and Plutarch aren't actually involved with one another, because I headcanon (or is it just canon cuz she's my OC?) that Diana is a lesbian. (Honestly, idk if I'll ever make this in-text canon in one of my fics, but thinking about the absolute mess that this would make Thirteen's government in Mockingjay makes me laugh. Soap opera-level drama happening just outside Katniss' view.)

Okay, this got pretty long lol! I love the random curveball that I had to throw at the end.

This was genuinely a very fun ask to answer, because I don't think many of these details will ever make it to an actual fic (although who knows?)! And surprised and delighted that someone wanted to know more about Diana and Coin's situationship.