#and I have a birthday buddy in the game.. THIS IS TRAGIC

[nervo-cat]

got pjsk again after a couple years.. I have 5 gbs of storage left tho so not sure I'll be able to keep it..

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - Not Ready Part 2/12

+18

Part 3 and Part 4 are out on my Patreon for FREE!

Readers sister dies in a tragic car accident, leaving reader and her boyfriend Ruben in the urgent custody of her niece and nephew. Readers life is suddenly flipped upside-down since having children hadn't been the plan for her and Ruben's life together. At least not now when his football career was reaching great new heights.

Enjoy! 💞

"So you're a...."

"Puppy mom. Jupp. That's what the ladies at the park call me."

"Well, damn." Your sister laughed. "Who would have thought?"

FaceTiming her on a Saturday morning was always as entertaining and chaotic. While you held up your new puppy for your sister to see, your niece and nephew Emmy and Vale fought each other for a chance to also get to see the dog.

"Kids kids, please." Your sister pleaded. "You're scaring the puppy."

"No, it's okay. He's still sleeping." You assured. The little pup sitrred in the palm of your hand. He had grown so big during the few weeks you've had him. By now he could run around the apartment for hours on end.

"Auntie, Y/N, when can we come and see him." Your niece Emmy asked, but was pushed out of view by her little brother. 

"What's his name Auntie, Y/N. Tell us his name!"

"I asked her first." Emmy groand and soon the children were fighting again.

"Hey, hey!" You shouted from your end. "Quit it you too!"

They settled down immediately to their mother's relief. "Thank you. Now you see what I have to deal with everyday."

You beamed at your screen as all three of them appeared with their cheeks squeezed together in order to fit into the small frame.

You tilted your phone, once again showing off the sleeping puppy. The children gasped in delight.

"His name is Iker." You smiled. "And hopefully you can all come and see him during your next school break."

"Yay!" The children erupted in joyful cheers, spilling out in the kitchen and around they're mother.

"Remind me to buy you a birthday gift." She smiled.

"No. Absolutely not. You owe me nothing sis. You've practically raised me since I was a baby. I owe my life to you."

"Well, that's very kind of you to say. Although true, I really want to give you something for your birthday. It's not everyday you turn twenty-five."

"Ugh, please don't remind me."

"Remind you of what?" Ruben said, walking into the kitchen, dressed in a two piece Manchester City tracksuit.

"How old I am." You said, shifting your phone for Ruben to see that you were in a FaceTime call with your sister.

"Oh. Hi Liza. Didn't see you there."

"Hello, Ruben. I see you're ready for the big game."

Ruben approached the kitchen table where you sat, greeting you with a kiss on the cheek. He leaned towards your phone, making sure that his Man City badge was visible on the screen. "Trust me Liza, City will bring it home this season once again."

"You wish." Liza snorted "Chelsea's got it together this year. I'll bet my money on that."

"Well don't bet too much of it."

"Ha ha."

Ruben moved away from the screen but just then Vale popped up. "Hi Uncle Ruben. Do you want to see my tooth." He held his mouth open with his hands, showing off his gums.

"Hi buddy." Ruben returned to the screen, his chin now resting on your shoulder. "I heard you got a visit from the tooth fairy not too long ago. Looks like she got you good, eh."

You nudged him with your elbow. Ruben chuckled, and turned to nibble at your ear.

"Just kidding buddy. You can barely tell that your tooth is missing. I promise. "

Again, your elbow found Ruben's ribcage.

"Looks like I've got to go." He groand. "Say hello to your sister for me."

"Ruben!" Emmy popped up on the screen at the mention.

"Hi sweetheart. How are you?"

"Good. Are you going to play football today?"

"Yes, I am. I was just on my way." He said, looking at you with a hand rubbing his stomach.

"Well.....then we've only got one thing to say?" 

"Oh yeah, and what is that?" Ruben turned back to the screen. The children, including your sister, backed up for him to see all three of them while they chanted: "CHELSEA! CHELSEA!" And then bursting into a heartfelt laughter before hanging up the phone.

"I'm so sorry, Ruben."

"Are you?" His cheeks blossomed. "Are you really?"

"Yes." You said, but struggled to hold in your own laughter. "It's just that they're such hard core Chelsea fans. My whole family is."

"But you're not, right?"

"Right."

He leaned in and kissed your lips. "Good. I'll see you at the game."

"Bye bye papa." You held up the dog as Ruben left the kitchen. He blew you both a kiss before leaving the apartment to yourself. 

Nevertheless, you didn't have time to do much before the game started. You made sure to walk Iker before you left him with a sitter a.k.a, Laleh. Who insisted on calling you while you were at The Etihad stadium, watching Man City's season opener game against Chelsea.

"So, a dog instead of a ring, eh?"

"Stop it Laleh, we've been over this."

"Over what?" She barked. Or it was Iker who barked, you couldn't tell sitting amongst the cheering fans.

"If Ruben wanted to propose to me he would have." You said. "There is no need to rush things. Besides, the two of us owning a dog is already enough commitment."

"Are you sure he sees himself as an owner and not just you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he bought you the dog as a gift. That makes you the sole owner of Iker not Ruben."

"It does?"

"Mhm. Seems like he tricked you girl."

"Stop it Laleh." You sighed. "Can't you be happy for me? Just this once?"

Again someone barked. 

"No." Laleh muttered. "Not if it makes me the babysitter to a little beast. Is he even potty trained?"

"Oop, got to go girl, the game is starting." The game was actually coming to end, with Man City having butchered Chelsea with a 2-0 victory. A result that Ruben would be more than pleased with.

"You feel so good baby. So tight and so wet."

You came home that night with Ruben practically escorting you towards the bedroom. There he did unspeakable things to you while riding off the high of his team's exhilarating first victory of the season.

"I love you so much, baby. Have I told you that?"

Things slowed down towards the end, with Ruben's cock still buried deep inside of you, however, his bare hips rolled against you slowly, savoring every moment that you took him into you.

"I love you so fucking much." He groaned into the crook of your neck, bottoming out. "I want us to stay like that forever, me, buried deep inside of your pussy."

"Yes, forever." You mumbled, drunk from the spine ripping pleasure.

"Fuck, you feel so good baby, so...fucking good." His release came in floods, the condom he wore filling up at the tip. Your walls clench around Ruben's wide shaft and soon you too rode the hills of your back arching orgasm. The two of you then lay quiet in the night. Unmoveable, but still attached to each other beneath your hips. Ruben didn't pull out until he was completely lank, tightening a knot around the condom before throwing the rubber into the nearest bin. The two of you then cuddled each other until you fell asleep, Ruben drifting deeper into sleep than you did. 

It was lucky that Ruben did not wake up when your phone vibrated against the nightstand, pulling you out of your brief slumber.

"Hello, Emanuel?" You rubbed your tired eyes at the sight of his name lighting up your screen. Emanuel was the name of your sister's husband, the father of your niece and nephew.

"Y/N....is that you?"

"Emmy?" You perked up at the sound of her sniffles. "Emmy what's wrong?"

"Daddy won't stop crying."

"What?" A sudden fear clenched your heart. "Is something wrong with your dad? Where's mom?"

"She's not coming back."

"Emmy, please. You're scaring me." You sat up. "Please, put mommy on the phone."

The escalation of your niece's cries sparked through your phone. "Daddy is crying because he says that mommy is not coming back. She's never coming back."

Part 3 and Part 4 are out on my Patreon for FREE!

[ideasarestuckinmyhead]

|•♡•♡{Welcome pick your man!}♡•♡•|

|•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡{Number 23}♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•|

Headcanon

{♡} ask

- silly hc of boo w Al being concerned

Holy shit my boyfriend turned into a plusie

{♡} personal

- Based on the plushie promo

Sweater stealing

{♡} personal

- hey this sweater is comfy...*yoink* it's mine now

Cough drops don't work

{♡} personal

- A projecting hc

Affectionate headbutting

{♡} ask

- He'd so love that

Fanfiction

{♡} personal

- Silly idea

The keys

{♡} personal

- Don't slap my ass get the keys

Immune system

{♡} personal

- He's an outdoor kid he def has a strong one

Jacked and kind

{♡} personal

- literally his trend

Him w a big family

{♡} personal

- Bc I was around family for so long give him a big one

Incorrect Quotes:

you look shitty!

I got a headache...

Shredding out music

{♡} requested

- HC's of Charlie finding out Casper can play a electric guitar

Incorrect Quotes:

speaking angel

Hey there pretty flower

{♡} requested

- HC's Finn x Cowboy listener who is insanely strong

Hair brushing

{♡} personal

- HC for Finn

Incorrect Quotes:

raging

where do you think??

release me

between me, god and my fbi agent

what an odd thing to say

tea with no liquor

Well isn't this interesting

{♡} requested

- Story of Rook and Auron getting teleported to V! Auron and Hunter's Universe.

Being truthful to each other.

{♡} requested

Mission gone wrong

{♡} requested

- Story of Hunter fighting another powerful Vampire. Then after getting thrown into V! Auron's manor he steps in.

Nursery surprise

{♡} requested

- Story of Auron surprising age regressor listener with a nursery.

Auron's 12 days of backshots

{♡} personal

- Based off of a joke me and my mootie made. Decided to make it a reality with writing

Hallmark's are weird

{♡} personal

- Birthday story for my favorite yv boy <3

Queen never cry

{♡} personal

- funny meme idea

I just want him to be happy

{♡} personal

- When he finally can be himself

Epic strikes again

{♡} personal

- Would you fall in love with me again?

Incorrect Quotes:

what are you my dom?

even me

Oh?....OH!

Scammer get scammed

{♡} personal

- Yeah try and scam someone that has a demon lover

fic idea

{♡} personal

- teehee protective Lucien <3

Incorrect Quotes:

tear his arms off

I want you to survive

{♡} requested

- Story of Alien stage! Jack x Buddy angst.

Tropical adventures

{♡} requested

- Story of Bittersweet trio going on a vacation somewhere tropical enjoying their lives.

Call that the freaky woods

{♡} requested

- NSFW Story of the bittersweet trio getting freaky on a camping trip.

Don't beg for mercy.

{♡} requested

- Short story based on the Six Hundred Strike from the Vengeance Saga. The part where Odysseus is stabbing Poseidon with Boo and Derek.

Eye contact

{♡} ask

- Art from a follower!

Old yt account

{♡} ask

- ngl this is so cute

Some times you just wanna snap

{♡} personal

- Listener snaps and argues with their boyfriend pt1

And scream at them

{♡} personal

- Listener snaps and argues with their boyfriend pt2

Spit fire strikes again

{♡} personal

- PT2 of Derek's fic I made a while back :D

Should have been me...

{♡} personal

- Trish and Auron's mom's tragic love story.

Turning white

{♡} personal

- based on my dad calling me pale

Argument

{♡} personal

- Could/would you argue with them?

Silly idea

{♡} personal

- These mfs have so many sayings

Bonding memories

{♡} personal

- Based off of a art piece my mootie made :D

two birds on a wire

{♡} personal

- This hurt me ngl

titles gifted by many, lives taken by one

{♡} personal

- Idea from the poem of Achilles for EoE Auron

Listener Hunger Games

{♡} personal

- Based off of my mootie's post bc I love angst w my oc's

Bittersweet trio podcast

{♡} personal

- Just imgaine it

Bitches could never!

{♡} art

- Art of Maracia (Angel OC) being cunty

Dream blunt rotation

{♡} art

- Silly Meowst going through it w my sona smoking w him

Reaction to the new lost and found ep

Twitter PT79 PT80 PT81 PT82 PT83 PT84 PT85 PT86

Incorrect Quotes:

Gossiping

Coming after Sunflower

show them how crazy you are

unfortunately

HOW DO YOU CHEAT AT A DICE GAME-

Please no fucked up Christmas adventures

carry me! - Southern Stars

ho is you good?

bonding

you loved her?

miss the boy you were

stop being a cunt!

your like my boyfriend!

[skylanyx]

Hi hi!

I know you’ve probably read my blog description lol all jokes aside, my real name isn’t Skyla Nyx. But since I don’t particularly enjoy giving away my personal information on the World Wide Web, I decided to use my FFXIV character’s name… since this is, after all, an FFXIV page (as well as a gaming blog, but mostly FFXIV).

So, since I started this thing I decided I should share a bit about me:

Name:

Skyla Nyx

Age:

27 (soon to be 28 next Friday!)

Pronouns:

She/Her

Do I have any pets:

I do! I have a Maine Coon named Castiel. He’s the best little gaming buddy a girl could ask for ❤️

Favorite Games:

Final Fantasy XIV (First started playing April 21st, 2023. I have quickly logged over 1000 hours on steam and still play every single day despite finishing MSQ twice now. I hope to write a post soon all about my journey with FFXIV. I can easily say Square and FFXIV, especially YoshiP, have saved my life in ways I am unable to describe.)

Persona 5 Royal (This game is just phenomenal in every way. The day I got my steam deck, which was the day before my 27th birthday ((received it on 8/24/2022 and my birthday is on 8/25)) I have always been haunted by this beautiful story and it’s characters. This game, much like FFXIV, has the best writing I’ve ever experienced in modern day fiction.)

Baldur’s Gate 3 (I’ve had this game since it’s early days in Early Access on my steam deck but only just started it at launch. I hope to write a review on it as soon as I finish it but I’m currently still exploring the story of Faerun with my Druid Tiefling. 💜)

Red Dead Redemption 2 (If you have ever played this game… you’ll know why it’s in my top ten list.)

Nier Automata (Same explanation as the game before it.)

Assassins Creed Odyssey (This game captures the epitome, the essence if you will, of a badass bitch.

Witcher 3 Wild Hunt (Hands down of the best fantasy/action RPG’s to ever be released. This was CD Projekt Red’s ultimate video game. It’s truly such a shame that they tragically destroyed their own reputation with a single game after their success with the Witcher.)

Dragon Age Inquisition (Only played a few hours but I absolutely adore the MMO feel to it. And the freedom you have with your own character.)

Dragon Quest Builders 2 (MINECRAFT BUT WITH AN ACTUAL AMAZING FUCKING STORY. That’s all. 😂)

Stardew Valley (Let’s just say if you were to ever build a farm with me? I will annihilate you in fishing and get us filthy rich. Mark my words.)

Garden Paws (The cutest farming game with SO MUCH YOU CAN DO. And you can do it as a KITTY.)

Favorite Movies/Shows:

Schindlers List

MCU Saga

Attack on Titan

Nier Automata

Persona 5

Demon Slayer

Signs

The Last Shift

Supernatural (DESTIEL IS CANON BITCHES. Stay mad. 😈)

The Last Exorcism

Conjuring/Insidious Saga

The Umbrella Acadmey

Good Omens

Hobby:

Gaming. I have always had a controller or portable system in my hand for as long as I can remember. I think I was 4 years old when I got my Gameboy. Ever since… I’ve been a GaMeR lol I hope to one day start writing reviews once I figure out what exactly I should look for in order to analyze for my first review. Maybe I’ll even do so here!

Anyway. There’s just a little bit about me to hopefully make some friends with similar interests!

[brockadoodles]

Let me tell you that I love you (4 +1) - b. boeser

AN: Burn this gif onto my grave honestly. BUT ANYWAYS. Uh decided to write during the Canucks game just in case they gave me pain. And they didn’t, and I finished something. A short sweet little 4+1 for you all. I haven’t written one of these in forever, so i really tried to keep each snippet short. Let me know what you think :)

Word Count: 3433

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol briefly 

One 

Brock Boeser was an irremediable fucking romantic. He was the guy who was always more than willing to cozy up on a rainy day with a tragic Nicholas Sparks-esque movie on in the background, never shy at admitting that something as achingly faux romantic as The Notebook could make him weep. He was the guy that all of the cliches were written about, the over sensitive Pisces who stitched his heart on the inside of his left sleeve, ready and eager to give it to someone. That someone, the one who he wanted to give his entire soul to over the last year had become you. 

You were someone he had met by accident, a romantic comedy worthy moment where you both had bonded helplessly at some overly fancy bar where you both had been stood up on dates. He felt stiff in his suit jacket, and you were there in that beautiful navy piece that had him wondering how the stars and planets had aligned in such a way that he was lucky enough to be half enjoying a drink next to you. You had smiled at him, opening the gates for a shitty date turned into a memory he couldn’t wait to tell the story of in twenty five years. One chance meeting had become a date, and more dates after that until over the summer he was bringing you home to meet his parents, where he told you that he loved you for the first time. 

Brock was nervous to take you home but it wasn’t because there was an underlying fear that his family wouldn’t see all of the things in you that he did. He was apprehensive because he knew the backstory of his own life was enough baggage to send someone away, and it had. He had gone through this before, bringing someone home who didn’t want to bear the burden of what life with Brock Boeser actually meant and that loss had shaped his perspective on relationships. Bringing you home was hard, because he wanted so desperately for this to work out, and if you couldn’t take on that baggage, he knew that it wouldn’t. 

Brock felt like he had that nervousness in his chest and stomach for the whole first twenty four hours that you were there. You had flown in late, settling into bed and falling right to sleep next to him. You always found a way to sleep, whereas he was consciously restless late into the witching hour, anxious about the next day where you would be actually meeting his family for the first time. 

He had spent so long waiting for the other shoe to drop, that when you got along seamlessly with his dad, he was still uncontrollably on edge. He was watching wordlessly as you sat out on the porch with Duke, a smile on your face as you listened to him, nodding and responding with Easton comfortably playing in your lap. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned, seeing his mom with a comforting expression on her face.

“She’s great, Brock. Stop waiting for the bad.” She murmured. Brock turned back to look outside, where you were just reaching a hand to his dad’s wrist and laughing. He felt like the air was exhaling from his lungs the longer he let his mom’s words marinate in his mind. Brock opened the slider door and stepped outside, slowly walking over and pressing a soft kiss to his dad’s cheek, who in return patted his hand reassuringly. He then moved to you, settling into the wicker chair next to you and letting you hand over his nephew who was now reaching for him. As you handed Easton over, it was like everything clicked into place for him. This was what he wanted one day with you, passing over your own child with the sun setting over the lake and family all around. That was the first time he realized that he had finally figured out what love meant, because the feeling struck him harshly. He loved you, and instead of overthinking the feeling, he told you.

“I love you.” He murmured, softly enough that only you could hear it. Your eyes widened and your mouth hung open as if he could see every thought that was stampeding through your mind. He recoiled a bit, diverting his eyes from yours and swallowing back the feelings he had just let escape without thinking about the consequences. You smiled awkwardly, grabbing his hand and lacing your fingers together. You brought his hand to your lips and pressed a soft kiss to it, your non verbal way of not reciprocating. It wasn’t until you were alone that you explained to him you just weren’t ready yet, a conversation that felt like a punch to his gut but that he bore with patience and understanding. He pressed a soft kiss to your temple after, reassuring you that he understood what you were saying. You didn’t not love him, you just weren’t there yet, something he could have the patience to wait for. 

Two

The second time that Brock shared with you that he loved you was by accident. It was a classic case of drunk words revealing sober thoughts. Not that his love for you was a secret that he was trying to keep, but instead it was a closely locked away feeling that he was trying to wait to share again until you gave him the go ahead. The wait had been eating him up inside, a small sense of rejection had made a home out of his heart after telling you the first time didn’t go how he envisioned. He loved you, he was so beyond in love with you that he wished for nothing more than to be able to tell you that every second of every day. But you weren’t ready, and his sober self knew that, his wine drunk self, did not.  

It was your birthday and Vancouver had blessed (or cursed, according to most of the people that lived there) you with a dusting of snow. It was nowhere near what Brock was used to from growing up in Minnesota. He was used to long winters where the lake would be a solid sheet of ice that he and his buddies could spend their days skating on, with sometimes over a foot of snow on the ground. 

Vancouver snow was a different story. The small amount was enough to close businesses early, and cause the city to almost shut down until the snow was gone. The mere 5 inches was a lot to people in the pacific northwest, so he watched you with a fond expression as you dragged him down to the park that was near his condo, a pom pom beanie on your head and one of his jackets wrapped around you. 

You both had knocked back almost two bottles of wine, and there was a hazy aura surrounding you as he watched you twirl around with your arms out, catching snowflakes in your hair. Brock grabbed your hand and pulled you into his chest, kissing your forehead and then your nose and cheeks that were cold from the snow. 

“What are you doing?” You giggled, bringing your hand up to rest on his cheek as he looked at you. God, you were his entire fucking world, and once again he didn’t think before opening the box to that thought he had buried in his heart from the summer, the words slipping from his lips before any sense of sobriety could catch up to him. 

“I love you.” He whispered, a soft smile tugging at his lips and his eyes searching yours, hoping for a different outcome than the first time just a few months prior. You stepped back from him, bracing your hands on his arms and shifting your gaze away, something that sobered him up completely. 

“I’m not ready.” You mumbled, a sad expression behind your eyes that Brock wished wasn’t there. He tugged you closer into his chest, another soft kiss to your temple as he ran a hand along your back.

“Take as long as you need.” Brock reassured you, more than willing to live by that promise. You were worth any wait that he had to endure.  

Three 

Playoffs were Brock’s favorite part of his job. The rush of the do-or-die series was something that every player loved. He felt like playoffs were the time where his real skills came into view, where he stood on his own as a talented forward instead of in the shadows wondering where his place was. It wasn’t that Brock was insecure per say, he just always felt like he had something to prove, mainly to himself. The Canucks had battled through all of the rounds, knocking out their opponents, leading them here to the Western Conference Finals against Vegas. It was game seven, the last hurdle before playing for the cup, absolutely do-or-die for this season.  

It was everything Brock had been striving towards. It wasn’t a Stanley Cup, but god in that moment it may as well have felt like one. A game seven game winning goal, sending the team to the finals. Every year he had spent plagued with injuries, wondering if he would ever get back to that spot he had been at his rookie year, wondering if he’d ever actually feel like he deserved to be a part of that core that were the faces scattered on the outside of Rogers Arena. He nearly couldn't breathe as the puck passed by Marc Andre Fleury, hitting the back of the net and sounding off the familiar goal horn. Elias and JT were quick to pile on top of him, nearly knocking him backwards into the boards as the rest of the team ran out onto the ice. This was everything he had hoped for, a chance to play for the Stanley Cup and he was in tears knowing it was his goal that sent him there. 

After the game, all he wanted was to find you. He raced out of the locker room, past the press area where thankfully he still had twenty minutes before he needed to sit down for his interviews. He ran out into the tunnel, hair still slightly damp as he searched for you. It didn’t take him long to find you, you were standing near Holly. You turned to face him just as he rounded the corner into your line of view. He watched as you touched Holly’s arm, saying something to her that he wasn’t close enough to read on your lips. You nearly jogged up to him, jumping into his arms hard and sending him backwards as he braced for your impact. 

The two of you stood there for a moment, ignoring the entire commotion around you as some of his other teammates were cheering and coming out. He didn’t care about any of it, he cared about you. You were the one who was there for the worst season of his career, and sharing this win with you was almost more special than the win itself. You grabbed the back of his neck and kissed him hard, peppering kisses after. Brock took this as his moment, another moment where he could share with you just how he felt.

“I love you, I love you, holy shit, I fucking love you.” He mumbled against your lips. You froze slightly in his arms, hesitating before you crashed your lips back into his, hopefully distracting him from the uneasy feeling in your chest.

“I am so proud of you, Brock.” You whispered. He just looked at you and smiled, ignoring the slight feeling of letdown he felt at your lack of reciprocation. You weren’t ready, and he was okay with that. Instead of dwelling he just kissed you one last time to your lips and then your temple, holding you close before he went to answer questions from people he didn’t care to answer to before you all were going to celebrate. The Canucks didn’t win the cup that year, and his first thought after watching the Flyers rush out and hoist the coveted trophy was that maybe the disappointment would fade once he got home to you. 

Four

Brock Boeser was a fucking romantic, and there was nothing more romantic to him than a wedding. It didn’t matter how many he watched in movies, or attended as he got older and his friends and teammates started getting married. No matter who it was, there was something that calmed him about seeing two people so in love and committing to that for their lives. He always pictured his wedding, except it was only ever from his perspective. In his daydreams, he never saw someone walking down the aisle toward him, he only saw himself standing there with tears in his eyes and a smile on his face as he waited for whoever that person was to get to him. It wasn’t until he loved you that the perspective changed, and he saw himself looking at you walking toward him. 

It was Troy and Emma’s wedding, a small gathering just outside of the city and Brock was in a good mood all day. He was humming softly as he drove the two of you there, a smile permanently settled on his lips as the soft sounds of Kodaline came through the speakers of the car. He had one hand secured with yours in your lap and occasionally he glanced over at you, wondering how in the hell he got so lucky to still have you. 

The wedding was beautiful, Troy and Emma both cried softly as they went through their vows, cementing their relationship with that final first kiss as the small group of close friends and families sat in the gazebo in attendance. Brock held your hand the entire time, feeling his chest tighten when you reached up and kissed the back of it just as the vows were being shared. 

He loved weddings, but going to one with you had him tumbling back toward that locked away feeling in his chest. The romantic atmosphere clouded his judgement and dared it to come out for another time to share it with you. Brock made a mental note to stop getting ahead of himself, to stop planning out an entire future with you when you weren’t ready to even say you loved him yet. He tried to push the anxiety away, the feeling that maybe he was the one holding you back, maybe he was too sensitive or putting too much pressure on you to say it back, even though he had only let it slip less than a handful of times. He swore that sometimes he felt it. Sometimes you would look at him just long enough, with your lips pursed and the words sitting right there as he waited, but then you would falter and shake your head a bit, playing the moment off with a smile. He counted so many of those times and they were casting doubt into his chest that maybe he was there planning an entire future with someone who would never realistically be ready, no matter how hard he wanted you to be.  

You could tell that he was in his head, something about the way he was carrying himself through the day had you worried. You watched as his eyes wandered around the reception hall. He was watching everyone carefully and you knew him so well by now that it felt like you were almost inside his head with him. Only instead of letting you hear what was running through his mind, there was a locked door keeping you out. Brock shifted back to face you, grabbing your hand once more and helping you up.

“Dance with me?” He asked. Brock pulled you into his chest, wrapping an arm around your waist as he swayed slowly with you, not paying attention to much around him other than you. He was feeling grateful for a lot of things, grateful that he was able to share such a special day with some of his closest friends, grateful that now the picture of this with you was so clear in his mind, and grateful that you were there with him, dancing slowly around the room. Brock closed his eyes for a moment as you leaned your head into his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart as he moved you around. He pictured all of it, the flower crown you’d probably wear, the smile on your face, and the tears in his own eyes that he would have watching as you came toward him. He pictured every last detail, a vivid dream that he was set on becoming a reality now. 

“I love you.” He hummed, letting his eyes open slowly as you lifted your head. You didn’t even have to say you weren’t ready this time, the slight shift of your eyes had unfortunately become something that Brock was learning all too well. He did what he always did though, he pressed a soft kiss to your temple and tucked the box of love back inside, sighing softly to himself and wishing that one day you’d take it.  

Plus One

Brock loved you in all the ways that he ever thought that he could love someone, down to each subtlety of your demeanor and personality. He loved the way you laughed at his bad jokes, the way that you were patient with his dad, and the way you cared so much about the health of the world. But he also loved the bad things, the little annoyances that came with navigating a relationship that was long distance part time, the way you’d sometimes leave a mess at his place, hitting a nerve after a tough loss, he loved all of those things because that’s what made you human and your relationship normal.

This morning wasn’t anything special, there was no event the previous night that had kept you out late. There was no celebration of any kind. You had come over for dinner and stayed, falling asleep tucked under his arm with Coolie and Milo snuggled at your feet. This no doubt was Brock’s favorite way to wake up, and he’d do it for a lifetime as soon as you’d let him. 

Brock always woke up before you, he was often an early riser and whenever you were there he found himself settling in and watching you sleep for just a few moments before he would slowly roll away from you to get up and make coffee. This morning was no different. His fingers drummed along your hip as your eyes fluttered open and his chest filled with the same feeling he only ever imagined existed in an alternate reality. You smiled softly and tucked yourself closer into his chest, a soft and groggy  good morning escaping from your lips. He didn’t have time to think about if you were on his page, he was already writing the rest of the book with you. 

“I love you.” He said. 

He supposed it was just another instance added to the shortlist in his mind of attempts at telling you he loved you. Brock was now zero for four, more than a strikeout on the scoreboard, but Brock was also patient, and didn’t mind a late bottom of the 9th inning comeback if it meant his love was finally reciprocated. He didn’t mind telling you he loved you, because he did, but a small part of his heart cracked each time you smiled and nodded in favor of saying those three words back that he’d do anything to hear. Each kiss to the temple after masking that crack in his chest that was widening, possibly too far to fill in with hope much longer. 

Except this time, your smile wasn’t forced. There wasn’t a nervousness behind your eyes, there was something else. You leaned into him, kissing him softly while your hand tugged at the ends of his hair. Something felt different in this kiss, a calm wave settling into his chest instead of the usual feeling that Brock felt from the previous times he shared this with you. You pulled back, smiling at him brightly. 

“I love you, too.” And those words that fell from your lips didn’t hold a flame to any of the hopeless romances he not so secretly liked to enjoy, he now had the real thing. 

[cah0mie]

To all my MCs that never really Enjoyed Celebrating their Birthday

Mammon: Alright! What does everyone have planned?

Asmo: I bought them multiple massagers so they can have a relaxing, stress-free day!

Satan: I bought them the new book series for them from their favorite author. I figured we could discuss the meaning throughout the story together.

Lucifer: I convinced Diavolo to give them the day off from any school activities so that they may rest, since they have worked hard it was an easy request. I also made a reservation at Ristorante Six.

Beel: I practiced how to make their favorite dish perfectly so they can have a delicious lunch!

Levi: I bought them the new most popular game they really wanted to try!!

Belphie: Uuhhhh guys? I don't know about this. I mean don't you remember what happened when we asked what they wanted?

Mammon: When they said they didn't want to celebrate? I've thought of that, and I have a plan!

Satan: This ought to be good.

Levi: Why exactly are we letting him run things anyway?

Mammon: Shut up and listen up! We don't have to celebrate anything! We can just try to help them unwind a little. Just friends trying to help their other friend, for no reason at all!

Satan: That sounds so suspicious, they would realize what we were up immediately!

Mammon: Do you have a better plan!?

Satan: ....... *Sighs* No....

Lucifer: Then I guess that's our best shot at doing this for them.

Belphie: I'm not entirely thrilled about following a plan made by Mammon, but I agree that it's the only idea we have.

Asmo: That's pretty sad..

Mammon: Shut up! All of you!

Lucifer: Moving on, I have already told MC that we have no school tomorrow. Hopefully they will sleep in and buy us some time.

-next morning 9:00-

MC: Shit....slept in a bit late didn't I?

-there's a knock on the door-

MC: Come in.

Asmo: Oh good you're awake!

MC: Just woke up. What's up?

Asmo: Oh, just got you a little something~ *carries in a tray with a cover on it*

MC: ..... Asmo..... What is this?

Asmo: I just thought you deserved *takes the cover off* Breakfast in bed.

MC: ...... *Stares at Asmo* What's the occasion?

Asmo: Can't I just do something nice because I fell like it.

MC: You're a demon.

Asmo: But YOUR demon, right?

MC: *shakes head, smiling* Thank you for the food, it looks great.

Asmo: Oh, but that's not all. *Retrieves a bag set by the door* Now, this mask will massage your eyes and play relaxing music.

MC: Asmo-

Asmo: This here will massage your neck and shoulders- which you could really use being hunched over a desk constantly.

MC: ASMO-

Asmo: And these are supposed to wrap around your legs and feet. They are massaged through air waves.

MC: ASMO!!

Asmo: What? I'm on the last one.

MC: Asmo, what IS all of this?? I don't need all of this, if anything you should use it.

Asmo: Now isn't that silly, of course you need it!

MC: As-

Asmo: Now, enjoy your food and relax as long as you wish! *Leaves*

MC: .....*sighs* .. So it's gonna be like that huh?

-few hours later-

Mammon: Yo MC! How about a game of Poker? I know you can't resist the game and the bets!

MC: It's more of the people and the conversations that I enjoy then the game itself. If we get more people on board sure.

Mammon: Uuummm, then how about some blackjack?

MC: Mammon, you know I'm not a gambler.

Mammon: Then how about....... Rummy?

MC: How about Speed?

Mammon: What?

MC: If you want to play a two person card game that bad, let's play speed.

Mammon: ...... What are the rules?

MC: Come here, I'll show ya.

-half an hour later-

Mammon: Wha-!? What the hell!? How are you so fast!?

MC: It's called 'been playing it for years'.

-lunch time-

Beel: Here you go MC. I made your favorite.

MC: Beel, this is much appreciated but why aren't you getting your food first? You must be hungry.

Beel: Nah, I'm ok. Besides, you deserve it.

MC: How so?

Beel: For being a good friend. 😊

MC: ...... *Sighs* ... I can't refuse you when you look at me like that and you know it. That's why you abuse it....

-afternoon-

Belphie: MC, it's time for our afternoon nap. Are you coming?

MC: I'm coming, I'm coming. *Goes to lay down beside him*

Belphie: Oh hold on! *Grabs a different pillow* Use this one instead.

MC: .... Isn't this one of those pillows that are supposed to keep you cool all through the night?

Belphie: Yep! You kept mentioning how hot you'd get while you're sleeping and how uncomfortable you'd be. I'd like my cuddle buddy to be comfortable while sleeping together.

MC: ....... There's NO other reason behind it?

Belphie: What other reason would there be?

MC: .... Fine. *Lays down with the pillow* Thanks.

Belphie: No problem.

-Evening-

Satan: MC, I'd like to talk about the theme in this book I've been reading. It's really confusing to me, I was hoping for different mindset to even it out?

MC: Sure, what book is it?

Satan: Come to my room, I'll show ya.

MC: Ok, *follows*

Satan: *lifts a book off his desk* This is it, apparently this story is holding the idea that committing crimes is alright depending on the situation.

MC: For example?

Satan: Committing murder is alright say, if someone kidnapped your kid.

MC: You think that's not alright?

Satan: I'm a demon, watching humans kill each other is pretty much sport to me. I just see it very unrealistic.

MC: .... Depends on the situation. Say your child was abducted and about to be sold off and become a victim of human trafficking. If this is proven then you should be pardoned for the most part, you will just have to live under new names and protection.

Satan: Wow, I didn't realize how complicated it all was.

MC: Yep, that's life. *Goes to leave*

Satan: Oh, before you go. *Grabs the series of books* Here, read these. I already have and I believe they're right up your alley.

MC: ...... Aren't these the new series of books, that just came out the day before? And you already read them?

Satan: *smirks* If you don't believe me, quiz me.

MC: ...... *Takes the books* .... Why do I not believe this is all coincidence?

Satan: *shrugs* Who knows?

MC: ..... *Leaves*

-Dinner-

Lucifer: MC, you're cooking?

MC: Yep. Everyone else cooks for dinner, I figured I could pick up the slack a little.

Lucifer: How much longer will the food take? We have a reservation in an hour.

MC: It shouldn't take too mu- wait, back up. What the fuck are you talking about!?

Lucifer: Is there something wrong?

MC: A few things yeah! One, I'd like more of a heads up! Two, why now!? What is this for!?

Lucifer: Consider this a reward for all your hard work.

MC: ...... Ok yeah no, this calls for a meeting.

-Everyone is gathered in the common room-

Asmo: What's wrong sweetie? You looked stressed

MC: I am stressed, all of you are stressing me out.

Mammon: Oi!! What did we do!

MC: Everything that has happened today was because my fucking birthday! Wasn't it!?

Satan: So what if it was? Why can't we celebrate it?

MC: I asked you not to.

Beel: MC, why do you hate your birthday so much? We only want to make you feel appreciated... 🥺

MC: Don't give me that damn look. I told you that it was a little too personal, and I rather not talk about it.

Belphie: Do you not trust us?

MC: I didn't say that, it's just...hard to talk about...

Mammon: Have you even tried?

MC: Have you tried not stealing shit? Difficult isn't it?

Levi: Woah! Burn!

Mammon: Shut up!

Lucifer: MC, we would probably understand your request better if you were to explain.

MC: ....... Let's just say... Something REALLY BAD happened on this day.... And everytime someone tried to celebrate with me....I remember it..... When I don't want to....

Levi: .... Woah.... Tragic backstory confirmed!

Asmo: Oh sweetheart, I'm so sorry.

Satan: I'm not.

Mammon: Wha-! Satan!

Satan: What!? Come on! When they first show up they state us down like we're frogs in the dessert, and they don't want to be reminded of some shitty memory!! You're better than this! Whether you like it or not I'm celebrating your birthday every year! Because you deserve it!

Lucifer: Agreed. You're stronger than you give yourself credit for. I believe with a little push you can love past that block on your mind.

Beel: I'll still make you delicious meals that we can enjoy together!

Belphie: You're keeping that pillow, whether you like it or not.

MC: ......... You all are assholes..... I hope you know that....

Mammon: Yeah well, you're a pain in the ass too. So we're even.

-later that night-

Levi: ....... I got that game you wanted....

MC: ....... You want to play together?

Levi: ...... Please?

MC: ...... I'll grab some snacks and drinks. You set up the game.

Levi: Yay!!

-----

That was much longer than I meant it to be, and alot more feelsy. Regardless, I hope you all enjoyed.

If you see anything that I could have done better, please don't hesitate to inform me. I accept all forms of constructive criticism.

[emily-opps]

The box hidden in father’s woodshed

I don't remember being alive until my 12th birthday. Father says that is because I don't sleep enough. With his loud booming voice he proclaims: “You must stop spending so much time on your phone, it is why you don't have memories.” Why would technology cause me to forget half of my very own life? The school counselor always blamed it on a slightly unhealthy upbringing. My father had a lot of family visit me growing up, women & men of all sorts. I have but the faintest glimpses of them. Golden hair, stunning blue eyes and bronze hands. Tragically I don't remember them anymore, all of my extended family is a mystery. No buddy has visited me and father for years. I'm mostly alone, father leaves for work quite often. For the most part I have raised myself I like to believe, but he likes to credit all my aunts and uncles. I'm not sure why he does that considering I haven't seen any of them in over 10 years. Our home is small, a quaint little place. Hanging flower pots, gift from an aunt apparently. Neat little pillows on all the sitting, woven with intricate designs, another gift. The window looks out to wonderful cliffs and mountains, a spectacular view which I often drink tea from. We are quite some way away from the city. Part of me craves to move closer to the city to be able to spend more time with friends. Now in college I get to visit very often but its not the same. Yet I can't make myself leave. The smell of rosemary in all the halls, the collection of jazz music for the ancient radio (another gift, an uncle), the countless photographs of a family I have no knowledge about. A puzzling mystery that I simply can't run away from. My room is filled with instruments, awards from well everything, from poetry to decathlon awards. I have always been a sort of jack of all traits and talents. I feel shameful to admit that nothing ever felt like it belonged to me, not even this home. I adore it truly but it feels more like a family heirloom than a home.

The house moves. It shifts and twists, it smells intoxicatingly sweet at times, other times of grapes, of burning ashes without a fire, of the distant sea and of wild moss. The rooms they change. New ones appear at times, only for father to tell me they are for a guest. He claims the house has been the same since my birth, but I know he is lying. They all are, the psychiatrists, therapists, doctors & counselors. All of them are playing this weird game of my father’s. I know what I see, when new gifts or photos appear some of which I'm in but can't recall taking. I'm not just forgetting, am I? Why can I remember, why can't I see, see what they all see, a little house on the hill 3 kilometers away from the city. That's all, that's all it's ever been right?

My thoughts turning into dark overbearing shadows, I try to hide to run, but where to? There is no place to go that's near except for father’s woodshed. It's small, smaller on the inside, all of fathers strange equipment takes up quite a bit of space. But it’s dark, it's quiet, it smells of damp wood, nothing strange, nothing odd. Just a girl hunched over in her fathers shed, whipping, praying for it to stop. On this particular visit out of the corner of my covered eyes I spot a glimpse, a shimmer below the floorboards. Gold. It sings, it hums softs notes to me. It calls to me. I rip out the wood with my nails, and there I see it. A box, or jar perhaps? It’s shiny gold with red, blue and green paint, and jewels arranged in patterns throughout it. I felt this force making my hand clasp around the lid. All my life nothing felt like mine, for me, I belonged to nothing and no one. But this? This is mine, only for me, I feel it in my bones, skull & veins.

I have made a grave mistake. The air of the earth turns to ash and smoke.

I felt a gust of wind hitting my back, It didn't matter, the box was the only thing that did. In a swiftt motion I pull off the lid.

I hear my father say: “Pandora! What have you done!”

[sunlit-squid]

I don't care about everyone else! i care about you, SQUIDWARD! (simping softness asks)

For those who don’t know, my ask box is open. Send me a simping softness prompt, and I’ll write a short sbsp ficlet for you. ✰

so, uh -- i might have gotten a bit carried away with this prompt. it’s definitely longer than a ficlet, but oh well. either way, it was a lot of fun to write! selfish spongebob is so rarely explored.

fic under the cut. also, just in case, cw: drinking, drunkenness, etc.

Spongebob rose bright and early, long before his foghorn alarm went off at 7:00 a.m. With a cheerful shout, the poriferan jumped out of bed, earning a disgruntled “mrow” from Gary, who was still asleep nearby. Stretching vigorously, the sponge leaned down, planting a soft kiss atop the snail’s shell.

“Gary,” he whispered, practically vibrating with excitement. “Today’s the day!”

Turning away, Gary simply replied “mrow”, in a disdainful way that most certainly meant “whatever.”

Undeterred, Spongebob ran to his calendar. Sure enough, the day’s date -- July 14th -- was circled in bright-red, permanent marker, with the words “My birthday!” written neatly across it. And just below those words, was a tiny drawing of Squidward’s face, with dozens of little red hearts surrounding it.

Making his way over to the window, Spongebob gazed out at Squidward’s moai in the distance. He sighed, dreamily. What was Squidward doing right now? Probably sleeping, in that adorable dress of his.

The sponge lingered there, staring dazedly out at the moai, for perhaps a moment too long. Then, remembering himself, he sprinted to the bathroom. Once inside, Spongebob pointed a finger at his own reflection in the mirror.

“Enough beating around the bush, Mr. Squarepants!” he yelled -- much to Gary’s annoyance. The sponge lowered his voice down to a soft whisper. “Today, you tell him how you feel.”

His reflection simply shrugged. “I mean, okay,” it said. “But this is like, the 57th time you’ve said this.”

“Oh, shush.”

-0-

The party was supposed to start at 6:30, but Spongebob, in a manic cleaning fit, had the entire house ready by noon. This year, the party was themed around As The Tide Turns, a very polarizing-but-popular soap opera, especially in Bikini Bottom. If you were a Bikini Bottomite, you either watched the show genuinely, or ironically -- there was absolutely no in-between.

Spongebob and Squidward both genuinely enjoyed the show. It was one of the first things they bonded over, back when Spongebob started working at the Krusty Krab. Through the window to the galley, the two coworkers would talk for hours about the show, and whatever drama was center-stage for that season.

It got to a point where Mr. Krabs -- who only watched ATTT ironically -- got on them both, for shirking their duties.

“If yer gonna flirt,” he’d said, “do it on yer own time.”

So, Spongebob started coming over to Squidward’s house on Friday nights, when the new episodes would air. In fact, even when the show was between seasons, Spongebob still came over, just to watch reruns. It was one of the few times Squidward would (begrudgingly) let Spongebob inside, with no complaints.

Spongebob hummed softly to himself, his eyes scanning the small clipboard in front of him. Food, decorations, party games … Check, check, and check. Everything was present and accounted for -- and he had to admit, the house looked spectacular.

Every room was themed around a different, iconic arc in the ATTT series. His living room, filled with chalk drawings, crime scene tape, and red-string boards, was inspired by the murder mystery arc. His kitchen, decorated with leftover Halloween gear, was inspired by the vampire arc … and so on and so forth. Each and every room had its own particular, careful design -- and in all, it was probably Spongebob’s most intricate and detailed party to date.

That was because it had to be. Spongebob had a plan, a carefully detailed plan -- one that was sure to sweep Squidward Tentacles right off his … er, tentacles. And it went like this:

Squidward and Spongebob’s favorite arc, in all 42 seasons of As The Tide Turns, was the murder mystery. In the arc, the dashing Detective Heartthrob, accompanied by his sidekick-slash-lover Joey, must bring a heinous mass murderer to justice. At the climax, it is revealed that Detective Heartthrob is the true killer -- having been hypnotized by a witch, who was also his evil twin sister, for some reason. In the end, Joey must kill Detective Heartthrob, in a tragic display of love and sacrifice.

The season was thrilling, silly, and emotionally traumatizing, to boot. For months after the finale, Squidward and Spongebob would not shut up about it -- much to the annoyance of Mr. Krabs.

Either way, Spongebob had set up an elaborate, original mystery game, inspired by the events of the show. Each attendee would get a “random” card, assigning them a different role in the story. Squidward would be Detective Heartthrob, and Spongebob would be Joey.

Together, they would embark on an original mystery, one that Spongebob had devised all by himself. After he and Squidward solved the mystery together, and the party was over … Spongebob would finally, finally confess his feelings.

Of course, Spongebob had, more or less, rigged the game to ensure this would happen. Which was cheating, sure, but this was for love! So it couldn't possibly go wrong.

-0-

It went wrong. Almost immediately, in fact.

For one, the party started at 6:30 -- and, nearly two hours later, Squidward had yet to show up. Spongebob spent those first two hours lingering by the door, staring out the window towards the moai, and forgetting to refill the punch bowl. Sandy, ever the observant one, noticed immediately.

Pulling Spongebob aside, she asked, in a hushed voice, “Hey, partner. You good?”

“Oh, I’m -- I’m great!” chirped Spongebob, putting on his worst, most unconvincing smile. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Uh-huh,” said Sandy, flatly. “This about Squidward?”

Spongebob blushed, immediately. The squirrel sighed.

“I thought so,” she mumbled, folding her arms across her chest. “Did he say he was gonna come?”

The sponge nodded. “He said, ‘I’ll see if I can make it work’, which in Squidward-speak, is practically a yes!” groaned Spongebob, staring up at Sandy with his huge baby blue eyes. “He’ll come, right, Sandy?”

Sandy hesitated. She didn’t really know Squidward that well … but he did seem to have a soft spot for Spongebob. Awkwardly, she replied, “I mean … I can’t say for sure, but he did say he would try. Let’s be patient, okay, Spongebob? Maybe he just got caught up with something.”

Spongebob sighed, then repositioned his face into its usual chipper smile. “Alrighty. You do usually know what’s best, Sandy.”

“I sure do,” she giggled. “Oh, and Spongebob?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t cut his cable this time,” she said, before walking off to get more punch.

-0-

By 9:30, the party started to go a bit haywire. At this point, practically all of Bikini Bottom was at Spongebob’s house, except for Squidward -- and Larry thought it would be a great idea to play Truth Or Dare: Extreme Edition. The rules were pretty much the same as Truth Or Dare: Standard Edition, but with one exception: each subsequent truth or dare had to be more extreme than the last.

It started off alright. A few people were dared to take off their pants, or do a somersault down Conch Street while blindfolded. However, as the game progressed, the stakes grew astronomically. At one point, Patrick was dared to eat half of Spongebob’s pineapple. Later, Sandy was dared to juggle three of Plankton’s bombs, while riding a unicycle. Even later, Larry and Mr. Krabs were dared to switch shells and wrestle -- which wasn’t really destructive. Just disturbing.

The dares were stupid, but if there was one thing Bikini Bottomites had, it was a complete lack of common sense. Or any sense, really.

It certainly didn’t help that as the night progressed, the partygoers grew more and more … inebriated. The punch itself was non-alcoholic, but apparently, Karen and Plankton had taken it upon themselves to bring their own alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol.

By 10:30, Squidward still hadn’t shown up yet. Several people had either passed out or thrown up. And the pineapple was a complete disaster.

Spongebob sighed. He was seated on his living room sofa now, watching as the partygoers reveled inside (and outside) his home. Of course, the sponge was happy they were enjoying themselves -- but this day was supposed to be about him, and … well, nothing had gone as planned. His entire house was destroyed, it would take days to clean up the mess -- and Squidward hadn’t even bothered to show up! The nerve.

“Hey Patrick,” muttered Spongebob, waving a tired yellow hand at his drunken best friend.

Immediately, the starfish stumbled over to him, drink in hand. “Wha… haha … whasss’ up, Spunchblarb?” he slurred.

Spongebob pointed to the drink in Patrick’s hand. “Could I have that?”

Patrick grinned widely. “Yeeeeeahh! Now -- now, yer talkin’, buddy!” And with that, the starfish handed Spongebob his first drink of the night.

-0-

About three drinks in, Spongebob Squarepants was well and truly intoxicated. Which was nice, in a way. Now, the world was a weird, misty haze, and he didn’t have to worry about his pineapple being destroyed, or his party being ruined, or Squidward, or whatever. Now, he could just be peacefully drunk and stupid, just like everybody else in his house. Blissfully unaware of the world around them.

As the night went on, Spongebob began losing track of time. What time was it? Midnight? 3:00 a.m.? Did it even matter?

Over the course of one very stupid evening, Spongebob made more than a few bad decisions. For one, he bought like, ten mops online. Which was both counterproductive (he was a sponge) and financially irresponsible (he was also a frycook). Later, the sponge swam to the surface of the ocean to see how long he could breathe without water. He fainted within the first ten seconds, and had to be retrieved by Larry. After that, the night became a dizzying blur. Spongebob was certain he had been driving, at one point, and also dancing, and maybe singing?

Either way, several hours later, Spongebob was still dancing in his living room, a lampshade stuck on his head, when he felt something on his shoulder. Turning woozily, the sponge tried to get into “kara-tay” position, and ultimately failed.

“Who -- what -- stay back! I’m warning you!” shouted the sponge. “I know … er, kar .. karat … carrots?”

There was a familiar sigh, then a soft chuckle. “Oh, you moron,” came a voice, a voice that Spongebob loved so dearly, even in this drunken state. “You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

“Squ … squib … ?”

“Yeah,” said Squidward, wrenching the lampshade off of Spongebob’s head. “It’s me. Sorry I’m late.”

Spongebob looked up at Squidward -- and in his inebriated, hazy stupor, he couldn’t take it. He loved him so much, and for so long. It hurt. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. “Squi -- Squidward, you -- you came,” the sponge stammered, his bottom lip quivering. “I -- I didn’t think …”

“Hush,” said Squidward, looking around the room. “This is, uh … wow, you really had a rager, huh? I didn’t think you had it in you, Spongebob.”

Stepping away, Squidward began picking up random items off the floor -- the punch bowl, some photographs, and a spilled carton of milk. The octopus had to step over and around several bodies, which were lying passed out on Spongebob’s floor.

“Listen, I’m gonna try and find a way to get everyone home,” said Squidward, sifting his way through the pile of garbage and bodies. “Everyone else is knocked out -- ”

Spongebob had had it. He’d had enough. He’d planned out this whole day perfectly, just for Squidward to not show up, for his whole house to be demolished in the chaos. Sure, he was glad everyone had a good time, but deep down, Spongebob was a little selfish, and deep down --

“I don’t care about everyone else!” shouted Spongebob, clenching his fists at his sides. “I care about you, Squidward!”

Squidward, startled, nearly dropped everything he was holding -- and before he could properly respond, Spongebob fell over, unconscious.

-0-

For once, Spongebob didn’t wake up to the sound of his foghorn. Instead, he woke up to the sound of the television nearby. Very soft dialogue wafted its way over to the sponge, bathing him in its pleasant familiarity.

“Why, Joey, I think you’re right -- the killer is closer than we seem to think!”

“Then we best get cracking, Detective Heartthrob!”

Groaning, Spongebob sat up -- a dull, throbbing pain coursing through his skull. Dear Neptune. What happened last night? There was the party, the drinking, and … Squidward, maybe? Spongebob felt his heart drop at the thought of his neighbor, and sighed. He hadn’t gotten to tell Squidward how he felt. Attempt 57 had failed. Miserably.

Blinking slowly, the sponge looked around, and with surprise noted that his bedroom was not a mess, like it had been during the party. In fact, it was squeaky clean. The only thing out of place was the living room television, which had been moved to the end of Spongebob’s bed. The TV was playing an old rerun of As The Tide Turns, from the murder mystery arc. A smile tugged at Spongebob’s lips. How ironic.

Wait a minute. Who moved the TV?

Just then, there were footsteps on the stairs -- the tell-tale pat-pat-pat-pat of someone with four legs. Squidward. He was still here! Steeling himself, Spongebob sat at attention, gripping the blankets tightly.

When Squidward entered, he was holding a tray of food and wearing a long pink apron. When he saw that Spongebob was now conscious, the octopus jumped, nearly dropped the food, then steadied himself just in time.

“Squidward!” said Spongebob, cheerily. “You’re here!”

“Of course I’m here, you nitwit,” muttered Squidward. “Who else was gonna clean up that messy party of yours?”

Squidward crossed the room to place the food tray on Spongebob’s nightstand. Once there, the octopus shoved a glass of water and two pills into the poriferan’s hands, with one simple command: “Drink.”

Spongebob did so, gratefully. Then, he asked, “The party … what all happened?”

“I don’t know, but it was a mess,” sighed Squidward. “I’m pretty sure half the town was completely passed out by the time I got here. I’m surprised the cops didn’t get involved.”

“Oh,” said Spongebob, feeling very guilty all of a sudden. “Did -- did everyone get home okay?”

“Yeah,” said Squidward. “Listen, don’t -- don’t worry about it, okay? I took care of everything. Your house is clean, Gary is fed, everyone got home. That’s all.” Squidward’s cheeks were stained red.

Spongebob smiled, his heart jumping happily in his chest. “Thank you, Squidward.”

After a moment of silence, Squidward brought the food tray up to Spongebob’s lap. “You should … you should eat that,” he muttered, then took a deep breath. “Look, I … I’m sorry I was so late, alright? The truth is, I … I got caught up.”

With a mouthful of food, Spongebob asked, “Wif whaf?”

Squidward grimaced. “You’re disgusting,” he snapped, then looked away, blushing brightly. “Anyway, I … was trying to get ahold of your birthday present. It was supposed to be delivered here, to Conch Street, yesterday -- but I guess there was a mix-up, and it was instead delivered to Conch Road, which is … in an entirely different town. Several hours away.”

Spongebob blinked. “You drove all the way to get it?”

Squidward scowled. “Whatever,” he snapped, pulling a small red present box from beneath Spongebob’s bed. “Either way, it’s here. So, I guess … open it, maybe.”

Shoveling down the rest of his food (much to Squidward’s disgust), the sponge quickly shredded the pristine red wrapping paper to reveal -- a boxed set of the entire As The Tide Turns series. The extended edition, with all the bonus scenes and commentary tracks. And to top it all off -- the box was signed by the stars of the show.

Spongebob looked up at Squidward, eyes shimmering with shock and awe. “Squidward, this is -- this is amazing, I thought they didn’t sell these anymore!”

“Oh, trust me,” said Squidward, shuddering. “You have no idea what I had to do to get my hands on that.”

“Let me guess,” said Spongebob, holding up two yellow hands to form finger-guns. In his best Joey impression, the sponge said, “You had to kill a lotta folks, didn’t ya, Detective Heartthrob?”

Squidward chuckled immediately. In one suave motion, he leaned against Spongebob’s bed, and pointed a finger-gun of his own. In his best Detective Heartthrob impression, the octopus replied, “I did, and I don’t regret it at all, Joey!”

The two laughed for a good long while. Then, suddenly embarrassed once more, Squidward looked away. Taking a deep breath, the octopus said, “Look, Sponge, I -- last night, you said something kinda weird, and I wanted to know if -- if maybe --”

“Huh?”

“You said -- you only cared about me, not anyone else, and I -- I wanted to ask,” stammered Squidward, “... what exactly … you meant by that.”

Spongebob’s eyes widened. Oh, barnacles. Did he really say that? Well … there was no hiding it now. Gripping his sheets tight, Spongebob steeled himself for what was to come. “It means I … I wanna keep hanging out with you, Squidward,” said the sponge, staring down at his yellow knuckles. “I wanna hang out with you more than anyone else.”

Squidward swallowed, hard. “Sponge, what are you saying?”

Spongebob looked up. Their eyes met. “I like you,” said the sponge, smiling nervously. “A … a lot.”

A long moment of silence passed. Spongebob’s heart hammered furiously at his chest. Then, Squidward sighed, and picked up the ATTT boxed set. Walking over to Spongebob’s TV, the octopus inserted the first disc, grabbed the remote, and returned to Spongebob’s side.

Lifting the blankets, the octopus said, “Scooch over.”

Spongebob blinked, then did as instructed. “Why?” he asked.

“You really are an idiot,” muttered Squidward, climbing into bed with him. “It’s a Sunday, the Krusty Krab is closed, and we have a whole boxed set to watch together. Might as well start now.”

Spongebob smiled, happily. “So -- so you -- ”

Squidward rolled his eyes. “If you must know, yes, I … I like you,” he snapped. “I’m not gonna drive halfway across the ocean floor for just anybody, you know.”

Spongebob grinned stupidly. “I guess not.”

With that, the show began, its melodramatic theme tune echoing pleasantly across Spongebob’s pineapple home. And just below the bed, Gary let out a soft, contended meow -- which almost certainly meant “finally.”

-0-

References:

The line about cutting Squidward’s cable is a reference to the episode “Party Pooper Pants”, in which Spongebob cuts Squidward’s cable to get him to come over for a party.

[lesbianlovelanguage]

Origin of Love

I heard it’s someone’s birthday, so I wrote a thing for @yikesharringrove. I remember seeing that you really liked Origin of Love from Hedwig, and considering it’s one of my favorite songs too I thought this would be a cool take. I hope you like it!!! 

Read it below or on ao3 here.

*****

Steve had always been clumsy. No one could figure out why, but it was like he was missing half of his body somehow. He fumbled footballs so much they kicked him off the team and had perpetually bruised knees from falling over nothing. At first it was cute, how clumsy little Stevie was, but after the age of 9 his parents started to be concerned. They went to the doctors, but there wasn’t anything physically wrong with him, he was just clumsy. He was supposed to grow out of it.

Middle school was rough to say the least, kids calling him Spaz Steve and purposely tripping him at the worst moments. Now, not only were his knees bruised but his elbows, back, shins, and chest from falling or being bashed into lockers.

He finally got away from it freshman year of high school, when he proved to be amazing at keg stands, adopted the new title of King Steve proudly, and found he was able to focus enough to not do anything too clumsy during school hours. It did mean his grades suffered a little, but once he scored a place on the basketball team and started rising in popularity, his father forgot all about the mediocre grades. He eventually forgot about his son altogether. But who needed parents when instead he could have parties and booze and any high school chic he wanted? He was living it up as King Steve, and life was good.

And then Billy came to town.

Billy Hargrove was cocky and arrogant beyond belief, but it wasn’t his attitude that stopped Steve dead in his tracks during basketball practice two days after Billy’s arrival to Hawkins. They were playing shirts and skins, and without a care in the world, Billy ripped off his shirt. Along with revealing miles of tanned skin and firm muscles, Steve saw a faded red mark right above Billy’s navel that seemed to resemble the sun. While it wouldn’t seem unusual to anyone else, Steve couldn’t take his eyes away from the little red splotch. That is, until he heard Tommy’s hyena cackle in his ear and felt someone slam into him from behind.

He fell onto his knees, holding out his palms to stop the fall, before looking back behind him to see Tommy winking at Billy.

When the hell had they become friends?

Steve waited for Tommy to walk away and then stood up, brushed his hands off on his gym shorts, and headed to the opposite side of the gymnasium. The rest of practice passed without another incident, and Steve was able to duck into the locker room before any of the other guys in his class. He was on his way out of the shower when he caught sight of Billy’s mark again. It was just a glimpse, but it was enough for him to confirm that it looked exactly like his own mark right above his navel.

He didn’t have time, or really the brain capacity, to fully think about what their shared sun mark could mean at that moment though. He had a girlfriend to calm down after what had been a truly disastrous dinner with Barb’s parents. Steve still wasn’t really sure what had set Nancy off, but he knew she had left even more distraught about Barb’s death than she had been before visiting. She hadn’t said a word the entire ride home, hadn’t even looked at him. She was distant and cold all day, but during lunch he had gotten her to agree to a study date at the library.

It seemed to help, he got her to agree to the halloween party at least. One night of being a normal teenager.

-

The halloween party had been nothing less than a disaster . Not only would he never be able to unhear Nancy say he was bullshit, and that everything about them was bullshit, but he had to deal with Billy fucking Hargrove again.

He had successfully avoided thinking about their shared sun mark right up until he couldn’t possibly ignore it anymore. Until Billy Fucking Hargrove was standing above where he sat on the curb outside Tina's house, no shirt and opened jacket, absolutely reeking of cheap beer and expensive cologne.

“King Steve!” He was slurring his words, not to the point Nancy had been at but enough to let Steve know this was not sober Billy talking. “How’d you fall so far, Pretty Boy?”

“Fuck off Hargrove. I don’t need your machismo act tonight, I’ve had enough bullshit thrown my way already.” The word felt like chalk in his mouth, practically choking him as he spit it out. Billy just chuckled and plopped down next to Steve on the curb. “Don’t act like that, Stevie Baby. I’ve seen you eyeing me up, just wanted to see if you were interested in more than just undressing me with your eyes.”

“You’re delusional. I have a girlfriend.”

Billy rolled his eyes and leaned back on his palms. “Pretty sure I saw your girlfriend walking out of the party and into the car of another man. Tough break though.”

Steve saw red, stood up and glared down at the drunk blond below. “I don’t need this shit, especially from you. You look like a drowned rat, buddy.” He threw over his shoulder a quick and snarky, “Have fun with that hangover tomorrow,” and walked to his car.

-

Sleep was difficult that night. Not only did it take forever to actually fall asleep, but once he was unconscious he had the weirdest dreams.

What started as possibly jumps through time, all centered around the same brunette and blond who both looked startlingly familiar, ended with a truly bizarre scene.

Steve was standing in an empty rock land, mountain peaks in the distance and the sky lit aflame from the brilliant sunset. He felt oddly at peace, felt as if some empty part of him was filled finally. It wasn’t until he went to go exploring the empty world he was in that he noticed he was larger, with two more arms and legs. Again though, looking at the extra legs and arms felt natural and whole.

“Where we going, Pretty Boy?” came a voice from behind him, but it also seemed to come from within him. Without consciously deciding to speak, he responded.

“Anywhere we want Billy Babe.”

As they were roaming the land, Steve wondered at the peace he was feeling, and the beauty of the sunset above him. But just as he felt the calm settle into his bones, a great sense of panic overwhelmed him, and a giant flash of light shattered the sunset.

And then all Steve knew was agony as the lightning split him right down the middle, leaving him panting and staring down at his two hands and feet. The peace, the calm, the whole feeling he had gotten to expect had been ripped away from him, left him groaning and gripping at his stomach where the pain seemed to center. He looked down to see a sun shaped scar, pink and raised and fresh.

His head shot up and he frantically searched the area around him. There, sprawled about five feet away from him, was a prone figure staring up at the sky. Some deep part of him, right behind the new scar, reached out and out towards the figure, pulled Steve towards the man. It was his other half, the half that had been so crudely ripped from him, now separated and too distant. Once Steve arrived next to the man, he fell to his knees and began to weep. Through his tears he could only make out the curls of blond hair and bright blue eyes stare at him, hands moving closer before tugging Steve into a firm chest where he curled up and wept until his tears dried out. Once his sobs quieted down, he could hear the soft voice whispering comforting words into his hair. Steve looked up from where he had buried his face, and saw Billy look down at him with the most tragic expression clouding his face.

Just as they bent together to share a tear stained kiss, rain began to pour from the heavens and wind whipped around them. Steve was blown from Billy’s lap almost instantly, and as the rain grew thicker he couldn’t see his lover anymore, could barely see his own hand.

He lost him. His lover, his other half, his soulmate. Gone, lost to the storm.

Steve shot up in his bed, sheets pooling around his waist and skin clammy. He was panting harsh, and his hand flew up to grip at his sun mark so tight it almost hurt, just as it did when we were ripped apart.  

But it was just a dream.

Right?

-

Steve didn’t get anymore sleep that night, plagued with a sense of restlessness and the carnal need to see Billy again. The hours between when he had jerked awake to when he would head to school seemed to pass rapidly and achingly slow. By the time his BMW pulled into the school parking lot, he was a mess fueled only by anxiety and a crushed granola bar he forced himself to eat.

But the blue Camaro was glaringly absent amongst the plain sea of beige and silver beater cars. Billy wasn’t there.

The school day passed in a blur, and practice was sure to be the same. Steve headed onto the court in a daze, head foggy until he looked up to see Billy dribbling a ball and wagging his tongue at the girls in the bleachers. It was as if the storm had passed, and that strange sense of wholeness and peace that Steve had felt in the dream washed over him again at the sight of the California Rat King.

And then he was promptly reminded of Billy’s attitude problem.

He was a monster on the court, managing to knock people over without getting fouled and snatch balls from even the best offensive players. Despite posing a threat, Steve couldn’t help but being a subtle tease. For some reason, he felt sturdy and more centered around Billy, and he used the focus he would have had to dedicate to staying balanced and applied it to some simple tricks he had seen from NBA games. He was headed straight for the basket when Billy met him straight on. Steve felt the press of a sweaty, sculpted torso press against him and hot breathe blow into his ear.

“Hey Pretty Boy. Harrington right? Used to run this school before turning bitch for an ice princess?”

Steve couldn’t believe he was getting this shit again.

“Why don’t you just shut up and play the game?” He panted. Instead of a verbal response, Billy snached the ball and drove through to score another basket for his team. He turned around to wag his tongue at Steve this time, but before they could go at it again, there came a quiet “Steve?” from the corner of the gym, and he had to go deal with the other headache in his life.

-

He skipped the rest of practice. After finding out Nancy remembered nothing of last night, he couldn’t stand the thought of facing Billy and his wagging tongue anymore. He needed sleep.

Apparently the coach had the same idea of ending practice early though, because halfway through his shower, the other guys on the team funneled into the locker room, with Billy leading the pack. He was standing at his locker, fiddling with the lock, when Steve walked over to get dressed.

“Awe, leaving already Pretty Boy?” He leered, eyes slowly rolling down Steve’s body, leaving a tingling hot path in their wake, all the way down to the red mark right above Steve’s navel. He could pinpoint the exact moment blue eyes met red lines by their widening size, and Billy’s jaw beginning to work overtime, like he was chewing on some leather. He clearly recognized it as an exact match to the one adorning his own body, and he knew exactly what it meant, probably knew more than Steve from the face he was making.

Steve barely opened his mouth to comment, ask a question, anything to prove it wasn’t all in his head, before Billy abruptly slammed his locker door and slung his bag over his shoulder, leaving the locker room still dressed in his workout clothes and sweat leaving his hair matted and sticking to his neck.

Steve almost fell over in his rush to get dressed and follow after Billy. He practically sprinted out to the parking lot just in time to see Billy pull open the door of his Camaro. In a last ditch effort, Steve jumped in front of the Camaro as Billy turned the key and made the engine roar.

“Out of my way Harrington,” he yelled out of the driver side window, where he had popped his head out.

Steve shook his head and shouted back, “I just want answers Billy. What is this?”  He angrily raised his shirt just enough to make Billy bear witness to the mark again. Sighing, he pulled his head back inside the car and rubbed his eyebrows for a moment. Steve took the opportunity for what it was and walked around to the side of the car.

“Fine. Quarry, 6 o’clock. Don’t be late Pretty Boy,” and with that Billy pressed his foot on the gas and zoomed out of the parking lot.

-

Steve was going to go to the quarry, but he had to make one stop beforehand. He needed to break up with Nancy, felt the urge deep in his bones that it had been headed south for a long time and last night was just the breaking point. But stopping in front of the Wheeler’s somehow ended up with him and Dustin searching for a lizard, and then a whirlwind of Oh Shit, the Upside Down is back.

It all led to him, camped out at the Byers’ house with a pack of angry little brats trying to convince him to do some more dangerous shit, as if almost becoming alien chow at the junkyard wasn’t enough. He was going toe to toe with Nancy’s little brother when the random red head jumped away from the front window to say that her brother was headed down the driveway, and he was gonna kill them. Her claim was backed by a   familiar engine revving in the driveway.

Billy Hargrove was here.

Steve calmed the brats down and then slowly walked out the front door, closing it quickly behind him.

“Am I dreaming, or is that you Harrington?”

“Yeah it's me, don’t cream your pants.” Billy huffed out a laugh and dropped his half-smoked cigarette to take off his leather jacket.

“Something doesn’t sit right Pretty Boy,” he said as he stalked across the yard towards the house, “You miss our date, my sister goes missing, and you all wind up here? Gives me the heebie jeebies man.”

“Sorry Bil, don’t know what to tell you. Shit happens.” Steve shrugged his shoulders, trying to play off how annoyed at himself he was for missing the chance to get his questions answered. Like hell he was getting answers now. Billy was right in front of him now, silver necklace glinting in the full moonlight. He swore he could even hear Billy growl before he replied.

“That’s not good enough. What’s my shitbird sister doing here with you? What’s going on Harrington, and don’t make me ask again.”

“Well, I’m babysitting the Byers kid and your sister isn’t here. Just me and a little kid, none of your concern.”

Billy pulled out his Marlboro pack and stuck one between his lips before looking up and locking eyes with Steve.

“Then who,” he said, pausing to light the cigarette, “is that.” He plucked the cigarette from his mouth and used it to gesture at the front window where a flash of red hair was disappearing behind the curtains.

Fucking hell.  

Left grasping for straws, Steve wasn’t prepared for the fist that came sailing towards his face. He fell to the ground in a heap, and by the time he was able to untangle, Billy was already in the house and yelling at the kids.

Fuck their connection. No one threatened Steve’s kids.

He ran back into the house to witness Billy push Lucas up against the wall of the living room. Just before he could punch the frightened kid, Steve tapped him on the shoulder. When he turned around, Steve socked him in the jaw and sent him tumbling into the kitchen. He recovered quickly though, and they were quickly locked in a wrestling match that only stopped when Billy reached out for stability and flung open the fridge door.

Out tumbled a dead demi-whatever, right on top of Billy’s chest. He didn’t scream, but it was a close call. Steve rushed over and pushed the dead thing off of him. He reached out a hand to help Billy up, and once they were both upright, Billy actually did growl.

“Answers. Now.” Steve nodded along before ducking closer to Billy and whispering his response.

“Okay, sure. But first, we make a deal. I’ll tell you what’s going on here if you tell me what this,” he gestured to Billy's mark, which was on display under his opened shirt, ''means and why we both have one. Got it?”

“Fine.” Billy nodded and then moved to sit on the couch. “Explain it to me.”

-

After a full crash course in what was going on, including what they had all been arguing about prior to Billy’s arrival, his only response was to stand up and head toward the front door. When he got to the door though, he looked over his shoulder.

“Well, are we going or not?”

-

They did it. They fucking did it. The Gate was closed and the Upside Down banished for good.

The tunnels had been pure nightmare fuel, but somehow Steve knew it would have been worse if Billy hadn’t gone with. Whether it was because of their strange connection, or it was simply because he had another grown human with him, Steve was nothing short of grateful for the support.

After returning to the Byers’ house, Steve and Billy and the kids waited anxiously to hear from the others. Slowly, everyone mixed up in the Upside Down mess returned back to the Byers’ home, and once everyone was confirmed safe and the sun was beginning to rise, they dispersed. Steve dropped off Lucas and Dustin, and then went to the quarry. It felt like the better option, than going home to a cold and empty house.

He had parked the BMW and gotten out to sit on the hood of his car not very long before the rumble of another engine grew closer. A blue camaro pulled up right next to his car and parked, the absence of the engine and music that had been screaming from the windows was deafening in its silence, and Steve watched with a mix of nerves and anticipation as Billy climbed out of the driver’s seat. He walked up to the hood of the Camaro and fiddled with his lighter for a few moments.

“I think I, uh, I made you a deal Pretty Boy. Answers for answers and all that shit.” He sighed and finally lit his cigarette. Steve let him get in a puff before responding.

“Yeah, I just thought you might know more about the,” he had to cough before finishing his sentence, the awkwardness of the encounter starting to get to him, “the mark thingie,” he finished lamely.

“What do you know?”

“Not much. I guess. He started listing on his fingers, “I know that we both have identical marks in the same place somehow, I’ve had mine since birth so I figure you had yours forever too?” He waited for Billy to nod before continuing. “I also had this, um, this dream? About, uh, us?”

“Oh, yeah? Dreaming about me already, Bambi? Was it fun? What were you wearing?” Steve instantly flushed and started sputtering, trying to form a reply. Billy’s smirk grew bigger the more Steve fumbled for a response.

“Not that kind of dream Hargrove.” Steve finally answered. He paused and then added, quieter, “Not exactly I mean.”

“I’m sure it was, Pretty Boy. What was the dream about?”

“It was us, kind of? Like they looked like us, and it was like we were mashed together until we weren’t and then I lost you in a storm.” Steve was expecting teasing or maybe another punch to the face, but instead Billy let out a sharp bark of laughter before doubling over and pushing the heel of his palms into his eyes, the cherry of the cigarette shockingly close to his golden mane.

“You okay there Hargrove? You look a little…” Steve trailed off, unsure how exactly to describe Billy’s appearance.

“A little freaked? A little fucking scared? What is it Harrington? I look a little what over the fact that my fucking soulmate is a dude and my dad is the biggest fuckhead? This is fucking bullshit man.” Billy’s voice slowly rose until he was screaming the last sentence.

Where did Steve even begin processing what had just happened? It was full of landmines, from being fucking soulmates to Billy having serious daddy problems. He decided to focus on their joint issues.

“What do you mean, soulmates?” Billy’s head shot up and he pushed off the Camaro hood to come stand directly in front of where Steve was sitting crossed leg on the hood, hands on either side of his lap and face close enough for Steve to count the light freckles spattered across Billy’s nose.

“I think you know exactly what I mean Pretty Boy. Soulmates, destined to be together, forever entwined, that kind of shit.”

“And you know so much about this because…”

“It ran in my mom’s family. It's like a genetic thing or some shit. Listen, all she told me is that I would meet someone one day who had the same mark as me and would share my dreams.” Billy took an aggressive drag of the cigarette before continuing. “Take a wild guess of what I dreamed about Princess.”

“Me?” Steve squeaked out.

“Bingo amigo. Spot on.”

“So, so what? We’re soulmates or whatever. What does that mean? ” Steve pushed. Why did he feel pulled towards Billy, why did he feel so settled?

“It means jackshit, Harrington. Just forget about it okay?” Billy started to pull away, and something inside Steve flinched at the thought. Before he knew what he was doing, his hand shot out and fisted in the other boy’s shirt, yanking him back into place.

“Not a chance, Hargrove,” Steve whispered before continuing to follow his instincts. He flicked one last glance at blue eyes before focusing on plush lips and leaning in.

Their first kiss was a firestorm, filled with heat and rage and passion. Billy ran his tongue over Steve’s bottom lip and Steve tangled his hands in golden curls to hold Billy that much closer. They only broke apart because Billy tugged at Steve’s beltloops and accidentely pulled him off the fucking car.

They both landed in a heap in between the two cars, Steve on top of Billy and giggling up a storm. He was high on endorphins, and for some reason found himself working a hand down Billy’s body to find the sun mark that started this all.

As soon as his fingers grazed the edge of the sun, he felt a rush of heat and love and want shoot through him and Billy let out a broken moan. The heat was starting to overtake everything, the overwhelming need to be as close to Billy as possible, but once again Billy proved to be stronger than this soul bond thing they had. He ripped himself away from Steve, not very far but just enough for the haze of need to dissipate a little. The absence left both boys panting, breath intermingling and foreheads touching.

“Holy fuck,” was the most eloquent thing Steve could think of to surmize the feelings he had just experienced. Billy hummed in agreeance, leaning in to nip once more at Steve’s swollen lips before pulling away fully and standing up. He pulled Steve up and into his space again. They looked at each other for a minute, just taking in the moment as Billy held onto Steve’s biceps and Steve wrapped his arms around Billy’s torso.

“I am never forgetting this.” Steve whispered finally, and Billy chuckled before shaking his head.

“No, Bambi, I don’t think I will either.”

[buckybarnesbingo]

Our third and final round of 3 Prompt Summaries!

Prompts by @riotwritesthings​ - Rainstorms, breakfast, firearms

Summary by @dreaminglypeach​ -  Bucky’s not going to lie, Malaysia in the middle of monsoon season is far from his ideal holiday destination. 

 And that’s before he winds up trading gunfire with Hydra agents before he’s even had his breakfast-curry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Prompts by @dreaminglypeach​ - Palace, cross-stitch, Valkyrie

Summary by @fightingforcreativity​ -  Valkyrie hadn't been to the Palace since her lovers death. Too shameful, too painful the memory of her greatest failure. She didn't want to join Loki and Thor back there, in the end she followed for her big guy Hulk, and her tiny scientist Tony. What neither had expected, was Hela already being there, trying to claim what had been hers rightfully once. The battle was fierce and the lose high, but in the end they managed to win and while the palace, while Asgard burned, Valkyrie stood watching. 

 "You know, my uncle Bucky used to cross stitch whenever he lost something. I started to do that, too." 

With these words, Tony had pushed some cloth and a needle to her, giving her a gentle pat to the shoulder and left again. On the cloth was already the outline of the palace and Valkyrie had to chock back a sob.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Prompts - jungle fever, meeting under duress, “punk”, palace

Summary by @riotwritesthings​ - For the record: it’s all Steve’s fault. Being lost in the jungle was supposed to be the worst part of Bucky’s day. Now he’s caught in a snare, dangling from a tree branch, and probably hallucinating, because he’d swear he keeps catching glances of a palace through the trees as he twists and dangles. To make matters worse, he can hear footsteps approaching and he has a feeling he’s about to meet whatever hunter set up this trap. If he ever sees Steve again, he’s going to kill that punk.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Prompts by @riotwritesthings​ - Rainstorms, breakfast, firearms

Summary by @fightingforcreativity​ - Steve hated that everything since they came back resolved around Stark Tech. Stark phone here, Stark Vision (not Vision but a television) there and ; "Oh Stevie! Look at this arm! It's full with Stark Tech. Tony even included firearms!" 

 If Steve was honest, it wasn't the tech itself that bothered him. What really got under his skin was Bucky making goo eyes at Tony, even before breakfast. What bothered him even more was, that Tony and him still hadn't gone back to their old... whatever they had. 

When they were discussing where to have their weekly train session, Steve suggested to fly over to Wakanda and meet with T'Challa. If he was honest mainly because he wanted Tony and Bucky to be distracted by other people and not each other. 

 "There is supposed to be a rainstorm coming this afternoon, we shouldn't head out with the quinjet." Tony had retorted immediately. 

 "What's the matter, Stark? Stark Tech isn't water proofed or what?" 

 In hindsight, Steve shouldn't have challenged Tony there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Prompts by @blurockets - Captain Marvel, amnesia buddies, wolverine

Summary by @fightingforcreativity​ - Finding out that she was from Earth and not- well she really hated the whole Kree affair. Still, there were gaps in her memory, filling her with a sense of dread. judging by the way Stark and Rhodes looked at her she had known them once before. 

 She leaned on the railing, over-viewing the New Avengers training session when Barnes stepped next to her. "What can I do for you, Sarge?" 

 "I heard them talkin'. Wanted to know if it's true." 

 "What and who?" 

 "You've got memory... you're not remembering your whole life?" 

 She turned to the former assassin and her expression softened. If one person could relate to how she felt, it was Barnes. "Yeah..." 

 "... you wanna join our club?" 

 "Club?" 

 "Wolverine and I got the soldier being amnesiacs club going. Helps sometimes."  

"Oh. Well, sure." 

 Somehow, Carol found herself a place amongst them, and this is her and their story of getting better together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Prompts - Cross stitch, rainstorms, punk

Summary by @blurockets - Where Maria hill gains a new cross stitch buddy on a rainy day. Maria talks about punk history while she stitches. She pulls the needle through talking about the culture and brings it around as she talks about how it related to queer culture. Bucky listens to her talk about the ones that were lost in 'the crisis' with a passion he had never heard her express before.  There was something military in her bearing as she went futher into detail about the things he had missed. Like she knew, and knew he would care. It was tragic the things he learned but knowing them. That they still survived.  It was good. It was heartening. 

The rain hammering the roof of the compound provided a backdrop as she stitched a 32-bit like figure (He will have to thank Clint again for explaining the styles of video games) with a bright green mohawk

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Prompts by

@blurockets - Captain Marvel, amnesia buddies, wolverine

@dreaminglypeach​ - Palace, cross-stitch, Valkyrie

@riotwritesthings​ - Rainstorms, breakfast, firearms

@fightingforcreativity​ - jungle fever, meeting under duress, "Punk"

"For f*cks sake!" Bucky was frustrated. His sisters had always made it seem so easy to cross stitch some patterns on a torn knee or shirt, so it looked good again. He just wanted to repair his shirt he had accidentally ripped earlier that morning because he had been in a hurry to get to breakfast after Steve's and his morning run. Steve, that punk, had laughed at him for ruining yet another of his shirts. 

 The kids of the X-man school were currently visiting and training with them, and thus the usual breakfast table was packed if you made your way to it too late. So it had been a frequent thing for Bucky, sadly enough. 

 A soft knock and a contradicting loud, "Sarge, what's up?" let Bucky look up and come face to face with Carol and Valkyrie. 

Somehow those two were attached to the hip, often joined by Shuri and often enough Tony. Oddly, even Wolverine seemed to be around them way too often.

 "You look like your birthday was crashed due a rainstorm."  While Val really tried, she sometimes still slipped up phrases, just like that one. 

 "I'd rather face meeting some HYDRA assholes in a freaking jungle, catching jungle fever, then having to deal with this!" Bucky sighed, shoving his shirt aside.  

"Awww, c'mon, bandit, let me help you. I mean from amnesiac to amnesiac, I gotta give ya a hand," Carol playfully drawled, which resulted in Bucky pouting. 

"I should have taken T'Challa's invite to the Palace when I had a chance", he grumbled." 

[kamwritesshit]

What the Arrow Pierced

A Greek Mythology AU this time, heavily inspired by the Tragic Orion event story in Revue Starlight Re:Live, with Zeus!Sakyo, Apollo!Muku, Artemis!Juza and Orion!Banri.

Enjoy.

Word count: 4,243 words

"Oh Juchan, you always worry me, you know?"

"You're worried 24/7."

The two cousins conversed as Muku, the God of healing and medicine tended to Juza's, the God of the Moon and archery, wounds. Even with Muku's constant worrying, the ruler of the Moon rarely got hurt from his hunting hours. Today was one of those rare days where Muku's worrying and talent paid off. Muku only sighed at the nonchalant response his cousin gave and offered a tired smile, to show he wasn't mad but rather exasperated yet glad with his attitude, a sign he hasn't changed for the worst for a few centuries now. And he hoped it continue the same as always until the day they are to surrender to death, because as strong as the Gods are, the Grim Reaper will reap what others have sowed.

"And...there," the God of healing concluded as he finished treating to the wound on his cousin's cheek which grazed thorns as sharp as Sakyo's, Juza's all-knowing and powerful father, gaze. Sakyo, God of lightning and creator of their current world, was seldom present in the same room as his son, abandoning him for the sake of the world beneath him. It wasn't as if he didn't love him; humanity demanded his attention more than his son ever did and so they were his priority. Juza never minded, fully acknowledging his father's duty as the all-powerful, but Muku was still brought to his palace to accompany him and live under the same roof as him.

"...Thanks. Sorry for making you worry. Again," Juza replied and attempted a smile, to which Muku responded with a smile back. He never really felt sorry for spending most hours of his day hunting and frolicking in the woods, surrounded by all sorts of game to be gained and eaten at home; deers, wild rabbits, he could go on forever. But he was clumsy today. Too, too clumsy. But he couldn't blame himself. There was a distraction, one he couldn't possibly be rid of, as much as he hated to admit it. His mind flashed back to the fateful encounter, seemingly unable to completely remove the memory.

~

"Who're you? What's your deal here?" He asked the stranger then, but he had a feeling who they were. They stepped forward with a stupidly devilish grin that was pure irony to how godlike they looked. Blonde hair that mirrored their smooth skin, eyes as blue as the delphiniums in his palace garden, muscular physique men could only dream of — even then, Juza only desired for his grin to be wiped off his face. Perhaps a simple punch could get them to leave but they didn't seem like the type to back down easily in a fight, which was why he scowled. From his observation of this stranger, he concluded that they could only be one being, and Juza didn't even like his own conclusion.

"The name's Banri. You've probably heard of me," he taunted and that dumb, dumb grin was still on his face. Juza only wanted him to go away and leave him alone to hunt for some wild hog, a treat for both Muku and him for today's dinner. As if to taunt him more, Banri sat down on an enormous log near Juza and looked straight at the expansive forest right in front of the both of them, still waiting for either to make a move. It was oddly silent, as if the stomping of Banri, the descendant of the Titans, demanded nothing but quiet from the forest. The inhabitants of the woods were accustomed to seeing Juza hunt and they weren't to hesitate on running, even if they do like him to some degree.

"You didn't answer my second question. What the hell's your deal here?" Juza threateningly questioned the other man and continued to sharpen his next arrow, his sights now on a wild hog he saw was strolling without a care in the world. He wanted to scream at him to leave, leave, leave but, unlike his father, he made sure patience was a trait that could be inherited. Still, that didn't mean his blood was boiling and was on the way to reach 100°C. 'You said "What's your deal here?", I don't remember any "the hell's in your question,' but he kept that to himself as to not make Juza lose his temper. He cared THAT much, at the very least.

"I wanted to see you. They were saying you're the best archer in the land and all that. And I came here to challenge you," Banri answered quite honestly, to Juza's surprise. Still, how dare he challenge a God when he was a mere Titan descendant, who lost the battles with Juza's father centuries ago? To engage in a so-called challenge would only be a waste of time, as Banri would never measure up to him. Besides, does he even know he is God of the Moon and of archery? He'd be beaten in milliseconds. But Juza recalled the conclusion he had made: Banri is the type of fool who'd never back down from a fight. Or a sore loser, as Juza liked to call them.

"I don't want anything to do with a womaniser like you. Get lost," he shooed him away once again but that only made him inch closer. He laughed at the word "womaniser" and clutched his stomach, debunking the phrase "laughter is the best medicine" because all that laughter only hurt him more. Juza felt heat surging, increasingly becoming unable to keep all the anger and irritation deep inside. Banri's laughter chased the woodland creatures away and the arrow in his hand almost split into two. Not that Banri would've cared nor noticed.

"Womaniser? Buddy, I swing both ways. Which is partially why I'm here," he teased and Juza couldn't take it anymore. The arrow in his hand split into two but Banri seemed to be getting more excited. Juza stood up and gazed into the greenery that enveloped his whole view and perspective. He took deep breaths and let the broken arrow fall to the ground as he weaved another out of his father's light, which was gifted to him for one of his many, many birthdays. Banri watched in awe of the God's power; but in his head, he was still somehow superior, being of Titan descent even if they lost. But they lost against the Gods — even getting into battle with them was no easy feat.

"...Fine. But I doubt you can keep up with me. Even if you can, there's no guarantee I'll get along with you," Juza finally gave in and Banri happily cheered as the first step of his plan resulted in victor. He took out his own bow and arrow and readied himself. Juza watched stoically, not all that impressed with whatever he was presenting. Still, he was slightly impressed a fool like him could annoy him enough to the point where he'd give in. Or there was a possibility that Juza longed for a partner to hunt with, whether platonic or romantic, as the woods could get quiet at times.

...No, there's no way.

They began to hunt and needless to say, Juza was more than impressed with the other's archery skills. Sure, he wasn't as good as he is but he never saw someone who could catch up to him as much as the foolish Titan descendant did. Sometimes, he couldn't help but watch in awe, jaw slightly ajar and eyes widened by a millimeter. Which was most likely the reason why he got a few scratches in the first place. He hated it so damn much. How that fool was the center of his attention for a good few minutes, how he was entranced by his agility and how he wanted to be rid of that stupid, stupid grin. Juza hoped that his skills would wipe the grin off his jester face but he only seemed to beam more and more. But, he guiltily admitted to himself, it was a nice change of pace.

And maybe, just maybe, he wanted Banri to be back again tomorrow.

~

"Juchan~. Are you okay? Do you have something on your mind?"

His cousin's soft tone snapped him back to reality. Muku's expression only screamed of confusion and genuine confusion as to what caused his dear cousin to space out. Juza wasn't one to get lost in his thoughts when accompanied by anyone or anything — he hates the thought of leaving one in utter and complete silence as he delved deep into his own universe. But he couldn't have done anything to prevent this. And he hated that fact so much. He both hated and loved today. Oh, how he wished that Banri fool wasn't such a confusing one. He was the type you both love and hate at the same time. Somehow, though, Juza managed to find his voice and speak.

"No, it's nothing. Don't worry about me," Juza assured him and offered a smile, one that complimented his appearance this time. Muku had a feeling that his concerns were not answered genuinely and completely so he had to search for an answer of his own. He still questioned his cousin with his innocent sky blue eyes Sakyo would always marvel at, as if the sky he conquers was shoved into two tiny orbs. Juza tried not to sweat as Muku searched for the real answers and gulped. He was rarely intimidated but the intense gaze Muku held was rarer and for that he was stunned right where he sat, on the smooth marble tiles of the palace.

"Or...are you thinking about somebody? Did you finally found your true love?!" Muku yelled in excitement as his eyes lit up, filled with genuine happiness and pride for his darling cousin. Juza didn't have the chance to elaborate as Muku was too busy being proud and gushing at the idea of the so-called unfeeling God of archery falling in love with somebody, regardless of their identity and reputation or rank. Juza was surprised to find his cheeks were tinted red and to find that Banri flashed for a second on his mind. No, he was only amazed that a mortal could keep up with him in the woods just now, it isn't anything beyond that. Besides, love at first encounter doesn't exist, and his father made sure that was fact.

But time seemed to prove him wrong.

☽

"Wow, he's actually late..."

Banri mumbled under his breath as he checked his watch and impatiently tapped his right foot, creating a beat no ant could resist the urge to dance to. Juza was always punctual, as the trait was probably beaten into him as a child (or whatever the god equivalent of it is), so for him to be this late both intrigued and slightly angered the blonde. Plus, he wasn't the only one who was waiting; the whole forest was stomping their feet impatiently, almost creating a catchy tune but Banri was pretty sure every inhabitant was tone deaf. He only sighed and searched his surroundings for any sign of his lover.

Yes, his lover. Banri would've never guessed that Juza reciprocated his feelings, considering how stoic he is and how much of a "tsundere", as humanity calls it, he can be. Nevertheless, Banri was ecstatic to know that the feeling's mutual, even if they have to sneak around and keep it a secret. He didn't mind, as long as he was with Juza, he was content. He had to admit to himself, he was initially interested in the God of archery because of his skills thereof and, he unashamedly admitted this, he was very attractive. Banri thought he'd have a fling with him, just like he had done with many others, but somehow he got attached. It's most likely due to how enchanting he was whenever he strikes his targets and how he absentmindedly smiles every time he lands a good hit.

"Sorry I was late. My dad was back after a while," Juza apologised and bursted Banri's bubble of thoughts. Banri immediately froze at what he was witnessing; Juza with his hair down, his bangs hanging down similar to how palm tree leaves are dragged down by gravity, most likely a result of rushing all the way here as to not make him wait any longer. And because of that, Banri appreciated the sentiment, but he was too busy admiring how so, so attractive his lover looked with his hair down like that. He tried not to blush or feel inferior, because he acknowledges his beauty, but Juza stole the spotlight for once. Banri cleared his throat in an attempt to dispose of his obvious thirst.

"You should be sorry. Anyway, c'mon, I heard that it's elk season~," he spoke as to not seem too soft, even though he did grew quite affectionate the longer he's with him. He was already a step ahead and he could feel the wind through his hair, a friendly reminder that he was also here to hunt and not to tease Juza all day until he leaves out of embarrassment. Again, something he had done with his flings for a night of passion, but done with Moon God to bond and grow love. Banri thought soulmates were a myth and that lead him to frolic with many but the thought of living without Juza made him feel ill. His old self would glance at how lovestruck he was with Juza and thunk it as pathetic but he was dead, an arrow struck right in his heart.

Juza attempted to get a headstart but was halted by a strong grip on the neck of his robe and so he glanced behind him to see who dared stop him from doing what he does and loves best. To his surprise, Muku stood there with the angriest expression Juza has ever seen on his angelic face and it scared him a little. It was difficult to disappoint or anger Muku; he was one of the most patient beings Juza knew and to see him grimace so much made him feel wretched. The guilt dug a hole in his chest and yet he felt like rebelling — he already knew why his pure-of-heart cousin was here.

"What are you doing with that filthy Titan?! I was so happy to know that you've found somebody to love, but you fell in love with a monster!" Muku shouted and Juza was shook at how angry he sounded. Then again, he's still a cousin of his and that meant he has the capacity to be threatening and imposing. Juza wanted to run then and there as Banri was already gone, oh-so-deep in the woods. Juza envied Banri somewhat, of his carefree nature and of his ancestors who couldn't see what he was up to as easily as the Gods could. Plus, Banri was the one to have thawed his frozen heart and made him not hesitate to feel so, so many feelings.

"I never told you to be happy for me. Besides, Banri is Banri. He's nothing like his ancestors!" Juza found himself defending his lover, the black hole of guilt digging deeper into his chest at every word he screamed at his cousin. He didn't want to, knowing that Muku was soft-hearted as if his heart was made out of clouds, but now it's as if his heart was armoured and heavily guarded. Juza even had the urge to slap him into oblivion, but that was too much, he thought. "Your hunting skills have been worse lately too, and it's all due to that filth personified!" Muku scolded him again and Juza was filled with much more rage at such a ridiculous thing to ridicule.

"I didn't get worse, he was the one who got better and better. I know him well, Muku, and I know he is sincere and genuine with me. I know of his breathing when he readies himself for hunting, I know of his soft smile when he was sincerely happy, I know of his everything and I love each and every thing about him. The war between my father and the Titans has nothing to do with us," Juza defended himself again. And as if there wasn't any better timing, Banri stumbled right out of one of the bushes and rolled to the ground, landing near their feet. Juza instantly kneeled down to check up on his condition, knowing he also rarely got hurt from their hunting sessions (though he still gets hurt more than Juza).

"Why weren't you..." Banri mumbled and attempted to get up but he let himself drop into Juza's arms at the sight of a furious Muku. Their secret was no longer one; the whole kingdom will surely hear of this. Banri, descendant of the Titans, the supposed "womaniser", had somehow pierced Juza's heart that was supposedly made of iron. Humanity will hear of it, the Titans will hear of it and of course, the Gods will hear of it. And both of them will be punished. Banri didn't mind being punished for pursuing his one true love but the thought of Juza suffering angered and saddened him greatly.

"So you're Banri. You know what? I'll give you a chance to save yourself, Banri. You either leave this land without a trace and do not keep in touch with Juza or you'll die by my hands or Sakyo's wrath. Choose wisely," Muku bargained, but Banri seemed to grow angrier. A stroke of anger flashed for a second in his eyes; Muku was oblivious to it but Juza knew what it meant. Juza glanced at him, eyebrows furrowed worryingly and his lips were in a sad frown. Banri attempted and struggled against Juza's tight grip, no longer able to fight the need to punch the God of healing, despite the angelic and almost brotherly look he held. Unable to break out of his lover's embrace, Banri scoffed.

"I'd rather die, thanks. But in return, you keep Juza alive. Don't lay even lay a single finger on him, got it?" Banri barked as Juza tried to shush him in desperation, knowing full well whatever words that will come of out of his mouth will put himself danger at the very, very least, although Juza had no doubt that Banri'll be executed and in the most painful way possible, even to Gods alike. He doesn't deserve that. Both of them don't deserve such pain and agony. Sakyo knew no mercy and Juza used to wish he was the same. But if it weren't for the spite-driven patience and compassion, he would've never got to love or even met his true love.

"How dare you threaten a God! This is why you filthy Titans are of the lowest of lowly beings! I am the one who decides what happens to Juza, whether you like it or not. But it seems you have made your choice. Very well then!" Muku grew more furious, somehow. The woods fell silent and the air was stagnant, the tension rising above the stratosphere. As Muku procured a bow and arrow out of Sakyo's lighting, the couple widened their eyes at what they were witnessing. "What...?" was the only word Juza could utter at that moment. He was the God of archery — why does Muku have the ability to weave a bow and arrow of thunder of his own?

"Sakyo said I was destined to be not only God of healing but also of archery. But I didn't want to take that away from you, Juchan, I didn't. I cared for you, worried about you 24/7 as you said, but this is how you repay both me and your father. Well, I hope all that time wasted in the woods was worth this moment," Muku confessed, eyes filled with such melancholy and disappointment, it was almost uncharacteristic. But Juza recalled; Muku was also a God, and of his lineage no less, so it was no wonder how he could have looked so menacing and malicious. Juza got up and stood in front of Banri.

"I won't let you have him!" Juza howled but Muku seemed unfazed. Banri took hold of Juza's left leg but he begged for him to let go. As the couple struggled against each other, Muku drew his bow, as graceful as a swan on a spring day. He let go and the arrow, expectedly enough, pierced Banri right in the heart. Banri looked down at himself as his soul was slowly leaving, departing for a place to belong in the sky above their heads. Juza kneeled down again, this time out of breath at the sight of the arrow in his lover's chest, his arms flailing in desperation to save him.

"You can't save him, Juchan. You're lucky he's only made into a star, instead of his soul being sent into the underworld. And be grateful you aren't being sent anywhere yourself, as Sakyo and I still somewhat and somehow believe that you still have the brains to repeat the same foolish mistake. From now on, he'll be a part of Rigel, but both Sakyo and I will make sure you won't ever have to lay your eyes on him, whatever form he may be in, ever again!" Muku called out and slowly but surely, Banri was fading into stardust. Juza hated how he couldn't do anything but hold him in his arms. Juza choked out a sob, something he thought he wasn't capable of until today.

"Cry all you want but I'm still gonna turn into a star, y'know," Banri tried to lighten up the mood but tears still slowly streamed down Juza's cheek, which Banri now caressed for the last time before leaving. Juza's eyes went blurry even after one or two tears and he could barely see his surroundings. But that didn't matter when all he could see was Banri and only Banri. His beloved, his hunting and archery partner, his best friend, the shadow to his Moon, his sky and land and ocean and whatever lies beyond the world where their feet are planted, albeit his lover being a mere Titan descendant.

Juza kissed Banri with all the might left in him, which wasn't a lot but it was enough to say goodbye and to respond to his lighthearted farewell. Even as his lips slowly faded, the couple clung onto each other and hoped they will never have to let go. But after a few moments, Juza stumbled into the dirt and Banri was among the stars in the night sky, but forever hidden to his lover's eyes, naked or not. Juza closed his eyes tight and wished for the Earth to bury him deep, deep under, because he might as well be dead than alive. He was overwhelmed by all these feelings. And he regretted not saying it earlier, a result of his naivety and, he had to admit, his "tsundere-ness".

"...I love you. I really do. Forever and always. Thank you for everything."

☽

He was looking up at the starry night sky again. But this night was quite special — a September night, specifically the 9th. His lover's birthday. He couldn't care less about the preparations for his birthday the whole palace was rioting about. 18 days felt like 18 centuries either way. He stole some cake from the kitchen for him to snack on as he read every constellation and searched for Rigel despite the punishment he was given a year ago. He still hoped he could see him just once despite the events that had occured and the punishments he'd endured and still enduring. And he'll never stop hoping. Until he saw a familiar glint and glimmer in the starry canvas above him.

There he was. Banri himself. In Rigel, but Juza could've sworn he heard his cousin and father renamed him to Orion, which he admits is a very beautiful name. Orion. Even then, he preferred Banri. Banri is engraved into his mind and it became a heavenly name to him. Sure, his lover was no angel or even a kind mortal but he sure was an interesting (and quite attractive) specimen. He mocked him but out of love, he planted kisses on his cheek fully knowing Juza was always unready for kisses on the lips. His skills managed to hypnotise Juza every time and that memory eventually lead to painful scene Juza wished he never had to witness. Still, he got to say his farewells and kiss his lover like one would normally do.

"Ori...Banri. I wish I never met you. Damn life-changer," Juza mocked lovingly and smiled to hinself, as if Banri really could see and respond to his taunts. But what if he could see? What if he was always watching from above, even if he was invisible to Juza? Maybe his twinkling and shimmering was just another way to convey his feelings, and Juza wholeheartedly accepted them. Juza thanked whatever deity or miracle (because it surely wouldn't be his father) for letting him see him again despite him most likely undeserving of it, as he quietly munched on his cake. And he was surprisingly grateful that, out of everyone that has ever lived on his father's Earth, Banri's arrow was the one who pierced his heart.

Metaphorically, of course.

[chiiquititamoved]

dracula ep 2 - observations

ahhh! the scene is set and i cannot wait for more agatha 

so we open up onto dracula’s castle? i think 

dracula and my beloved aggie are in a room together

wait so are they buddies now? drac’s not trying to eat her or anything, which i find suspicious

there’s a chess game going on with some symbolism i am too tired to grasp

drac starts telling agatha about the voyage he made to england 

scene changes to a ship and the captain having a nightmare about a dismembered hand? idk

now we meet a passenger, dr sharma who’s looking at a body or something

it’s the “grave the children complained about” ??? i’m getting lucy vibes 

the coffin/body is 70 yrs old but there’s fresh scratches on the lid! i wonder where this is going 

ew a very gross body rises out of the coffin 

scene change! we meet a dead guy, piotr

his mum/sister/relative is saying he was going to be a sailor but he died before he could, and there’s this very suspicious guy sweeping in a doorway and listening to the conversation

but then a nun closes the door and locks him in his room

and then the lady relative is told by the priest to stab w/ a stake piotr and she does. wise move, ma’am

this is all taking place close to a shipyard/dock 

oooh suspicious guy is going to the ship and impersonating piotr! interesting 

so it’s established that the one-handed guy from the nightmare the captain had is coming back on the ship. apparently it was the captain’s fault he lost his hand, but the nice one-handed guy is making a joke out of it and it’s all very friendly, but it still haunts our cap i guess

lord and lady ruthven are coming aboard the ship. they just got married, and it’s all very exciting 

the lord jokes about “making it a long voyage” (wink wink) to cap (comedic genius right here) and then this guy who introduced him is like “oh, it will be” we’ve got so many suspicious characters already, i feel so blessed!!

okay - i’ll call the guy who’s pretending to be piotr fake piotr to avoid confusion and i’ll call the other suspicious guy (i think he’s lord and lady ruthven’s servant/secretary? he’s got pretty nice clothes, idk) bob 

there’s an old guy who approaches fake piotr like “are you as inexperienced as you look? are you scared?” and he’s like well yeah and the other guy goes “me too.” ???? that’s reassuring!! 

ah the doctor (i forget his name) and his daughter are boarding 

dracula boards openly as himself because THAT’S a good idea 

agatha, of course, echoes my thoughts and drac’s like “what do you think i would’ve done, lie around in a box for 4 weeks?” uh, yeah, you’re a fucking vamipre

anyway, back to the ship. fake piotr is about to enter a room (no. 9) but this crewmember comes up to him and goes nah you can’t go in there these passengers are sick (he sounds like he’s lying) and fake piotr is like okay thanks i won’t do that then 

there’s fucking flies EVERYWHERE on this ship jesus 

like i get they’re undead and it’s symbolic and suspenseful or whatever but it’s also fucking GROSS

anyway drac comes up to the crewmember, who for some reason is listening at the door of no. 9, and says some creepy stuff to him (turns out he’s from bavaria. this may be relevant later?)

so fake piotr is from romania and he’s boring the handless guy with his “story” - the handless guy points out that it sounds SUPER fucking fake. anyway time for dinner!

so now they show the fancy dining room and lord whatever is there w/ bob (his name’s adisa, actually) and adisa’s like ooh this wine isn’t good i don’t like it and then they argue whatever and the doctor interjects 

OH MY GOD! adisa and the lord are together! the lord’s like you know this marriage is a necessary evil and adisa’s like yeah but it hurts. :,( i feel him man

drac introduces himself to the old lady, bla bla, and then he drinks this crewman’s blood and like absorbs his mannerisms (and his german)

god this is boring i want more of my tragic gay love story 

turns out drac and the old lady (who is a duchess) danced together on her 18th birthday? okay? i don’t care where’s adisa 

and that’s the night the duchess’s mother disappeared. great. 

now drac drinks the old lady’s blood

there’s a fog around the ship... it seems to be following them... how mysterious...

okay now drac is creeping out fake pietro by telling him a gross story because he was looking in a barrel? I DON’T CARE WHERE IS ADISA

ahh finally adisa’s back. so dorabella (the gay lord’s wife) is tired (and everyone else is like OOHhoo i wonder why) but drac seems to be on to them. uh oh

honestly other than agatha adisa and the lord are the only characters i actually want to have a happy ending 

okay everyone’s asleep but doc, and he’s having flashbacks or whatever to that body from before 

he gives his sleeping daughter (who’s mute + deaf, btw, forgot to mention that) a touching little monologue abt how there’s monsters in this world and he’ll protect her (that sounds sarcastic but it actually is sweet) 

lady whatever (gay’s wife) goes out on deck in the night, for a walk, but meets dracula out there 

he’s kinda flirting/talking w/ her outside but she’s obviously in love with her husband, unfortunately

m’lady reveals she’s going to america

dracula shows her the water in a barrel or something? but refers to it as a mirror? he shows her a pic of her and her husband in the reflection and goes “i thought i’d show you a picture of what might have been,” or something dramatic like that 

the doctor’s daughter starts bleeding from her face in her bed, and she wakes up

turns out the blood is from the lady and is dripping through the ship’s deck! 

doc’s daughter goes up to investigate and sees drac drinking the lady’s blood

:( i really don’t want the doc’s daughter to die

well of course now drac is threatening her >:(

like i feel bad for dorabella but i want adisa to be happy. i’m very conflicted

they’re going to search for the murderer now 

DRACULA IS SO OBVIOUSLY THE CULPRIT OH MY GOD. he keeps saying the most suspicious things and nobody cares

okay now drac is saying that they should search cabin no. 9? which only the captain has access to, for some reason, and he’s super anxious to not let anyone else in?

there’s a bunch of flies in cabin no. 9. great, more death

it’s established that there is actually another person in cabin 9, the mates hear breathing or something

drac: “ah, but you’re a scientist.” doctor: “yes, i was, at the university of calcutta. are you a scientist yourself?” “no, but i have an appetite for it.”

this guy gets injured because of the fog or something 

dracula is like addicted to blood, and he can’t stand the sight of it or something 

NO THE LORD RUTWHATEVER IS WITH DRACULA 

IF HE’S GOING TO CHEAT ON ADISA I WILL RIOT

oh no thank god everyone else is in the room with him 

The gay lord’s friend who told him to take this ship is called balaur? oh my god balaur is the dude that the rich old lady said was paying for her trip to england in the beginning! i feel like we’re onto something my dudes 

i was right! balaur is also the doctor’s sponsor

So the injured guy (the crewmember) gets woken up by the gay lord’s wife and she’s like ooh it’s okay but then it turns out it’s dracula pretending to be her and he drinks the guy’s blood

Ooooh shit most of the crew left on a lifeboat!!! Shit

NOW WE’RE FINALLY GOING TO SEE WHO’S IN CABIN NINE! 

Okay so we cut back to drac, who spouts some cryptic bullshit as usual 

Ahhhh we’re finally getting an explanation for why he and agatha are here! She gets up ans she’s like “how did i get here? We were at the convent!” and dracula let mina go? But he didn’t let agatha go

Agatha’s like “the people you feed on, you make them dream!” 

NO, HE DRANK AGATHA’S BLOOD????!!

OH MY GOD AGATHA’S IN CABIN NUMBER NINE 

Drac goes into the cabin and he’s like agatha is the murderer! 

And they’re about to hang her!!!!!! No but she’s the love of my life!!!!

okay the captain and the doctor are like she couldn’t possibly have done it! she’s too weak

now, my darling agatha, who of course has her wits about her, says that she’s a vampire so they can’t hang her! and they’re like uh okay i kinda believe her

but then drac starts to kick the barrel from under her! and aggie BITES HER LIP AND THE BLOOD FALLS 

dracula goes a little batshit (! get it???) and they see it! and then the doctor’s daughter (who you will recall i ALWAYS had faith in) comes in and makes the sign of the cross and drac’s repulsed

IS THE DAY SAVED? no, there’s 30 minutes left in the episode

DRACULA RUNS AWAY WHILE THEY’RE SAVING AGATHA 

AND MY HERO (AGATHA, OBVIOUSLY) JUST SITS UP AND GOES “i am sister agatha van helsing of the st mary’s convent, budapest. captain sokolov, you are relieved of command.” JUST LIKE THAT! MY HERO! 

okay so the doctor has a little potion for if he’s undead? I guess it kills an undead person

the remaining crew members threw all of the boxes of earth but one off of the ship (drac needs to sleep on transylvanian earth for some reason?)

gay lord just called dracula seductive >:( where’s adisa?? I miss him 

WhAT the FUCK? gay lord LIKES dracula? 

NO ARE GAY LORD AND DRACULA GOING TO FUCK

GAY LORD IS ON DRACULA’S SIDE 

DOCTOR AND HIS DAUGHTER JUST PULLED SOME CROSSES BECAUSE DUH AND GAY LORD IS THREATENING TO SHOOT THEM

NO NOW THE DOCTOR AND HIS DAUGHTER ARE DEAD 

AND DRACULA JUST STARTS TO DRINK THE LORD’S BLOOD 

Fake piotr then walks into the cabin and is like “wtf,” obviously, and then runs up to the deck and tells people, who are nailing pages of the bible to the deck 

Oh no adisa’s sad! He’s crying no :,( 

They’re all in the bible circle tho

Oookay so they were suspicious of piotr because last time drac took over harker’s body 

So now they’re all telling fake piotr to step out of the circle and back in 

Fake piotr does it and succeeds but then ofc fucking dracula appears. *eye roll* 

So adisa was like hey what the fuck why is religion the only thing stopping dracula? This is bullshit 

and adisa’s like drac you took the love of my life :((( no adisa he’s not worth it!!!

dracula’s taunting adisa to step out of the circle!!! Nooooo

NO HE STEPS OUT OF THE CIRCLE

ADISA SHOOTS DRACULA NO

NO DRACULA BITES ADISA!!!:((((

Fake piotr lunges at dracula but he throws him down and a barrel pops open 

The captain comes at him too

they’re all fighting him!!! 

They set him on fire! About fucking time 

He jumps into the water 

Okay this is making me nervous where did he go

Scene change! It’s morning and the sun is shining

“Where’s olgaren?” “cooking.” “just when you think you’re out of danger.”

Fake piotr sees a white bird with its head severed on deck :| 

We’re in the hold now, and aggie is keeping watch on the crate of dirt. The cap comes down and talks to her 

Oooh agatha’s saying that this ship must never reach england. we’ve got one lifeboat left, apparently, so i guess that works

She wants to blow a hole in the hull 

NO AGATHA WANTS TO SINK WITH THE SHIP 

NO I LOVE HER 

SHE SAYS SHE’S GOING TO DIE ANYWAY BECAUSE THE VAMPIRE’S CURSE LIVES INSIDE OF HER 

Awwwwwwwww cap’s giving her a hug :,(

I’m HEARTBROKEN!!!!! AGATHA IS THE LOVE OF MY LIFE

I kinda have a feeling she won’t die tho

Ew there’s a fly buzzing on a doll’s face. hm - totally unrelated, by the way i wonder what dracula is inhabiting 

Okay the guys are all leaving the ship 

Aggie’s praying down below but then she hears a noise and comes up to the cabins 

oh fucking hell dracula’s coming 

great. just fucking great 

oh no it’s the cap! Cap stayed with her on the ship!

fuck is it dracula inhabitng his body?

Agatha just found that dracula put a ton of dirt under a bed and he just slept on that one :/

okay the cap went on deck and agatha followed him but drac killed him before she could do anything 

drac’s like follow me, and walks off 

Agatha looks at cap’s body and cap’s alive!!! And he goes keep him talking!

So agatha goes on deck with drac 

Drac says how he got back on the ship, etc. 

Cap’s climbing towards them! Go! I’m rooting for you! 

Ookay they’re doing some menacing small talk, dracula’s lying, whatever 

Yes!! Cap set the ship on fire!!

Drac’s about to drink agatha’s blood - agatha: “yes, go ahead. The last thing your eyes will ever see is the contempt in mine!” 

He throws her down onto the deck + runs away to the hold

THE SHIP IS EXPLODING!

Agatha’s in the water! She’s drowning noooo

Convo between fake pietro + one handed guy: “They’re dead, then.” “yes.” “what now?” “we honour them.” “how?” “by telling their story.” :,(

huh - so marius (hmHMHM) is fake piotr’s real name

Okay no dracula swims to england (it’s not that far away)

HUH 

WHAT THE FUCK

WHAT THE FUCK?

NOW DRACULA’S IN ENGLAND AND A HELICOPTER ARRIVES??? AND A BUNCH OF MODERN CARS??? AND AGATHA VAN HELSING BUT SHE’S WEARING MODERN CLOTHES?? 

TO BE CONTINUED 

WELL. that’s done i guess. 

oh my god the wc on this thing is once again 2000. i don’t mean for this to happen i promise 

IN CONCLUSION: the next episode had better be fucking good. I mean it, Gatiss. The ending was insane (i had to rewatch it to make sure i wasn’t hallucinating) and honestly? This REEKS of season 4 sherlock (or whichever season it was when everything went to shit). If they make this some kind of ridiculous future au i WILL die. Thanks for coming to my ted talk. 

(P.S. I will try to watch the next episode this weekend! so watch out for (more) deranged ranting.) 

[spookyspaghettisundae]

Real Monsters

Two empty bottles of cheap shoddy beer stood on the bar counter, right next to a cup with a finger’s width of whiskey resting in it. Emily blew a strand of fire-red hair out of her face and, for no apparent reason, glared at the bartender as he collected and removed the empty glass containers from in front of her.

Over the course of the hour she had spent there, she slumped more and more over the bar counter where she sat. Every now and then, she glanced at the flat screen TV hanging over the bar, watching the news flashing across the screen with mild disinterest. The lights of cars on the city’s street outside the bar’s windows drearily passed by. The more she drank that night away, the more those lights outside turned into hazy blurs, contrasted by the soft illumination in this quaint pub.

Emily’s willowy frame and symmetrical features would lead to anybody describing her as an attractive woman in her late twenties—if you could stomach the strong stench of cigarette smoke clinging to her like a dark miasma—so it was nothing unusual for her to have some guy sidle up next to her with a warm and friendly smile. He even did a decent job at holding back from cringing, once he inhaled some of the air in Emily’s vicinity.

“Hey, I was just—”

“Fuck off,” she told him without looking up from the glass of whiskey she was nursing, swirling the liquid inside her glass in one hand. She trained her eyes on the TV screen even though the lines and text on it were getting blurry for her.

The young man’s face turned sour in an instant and he uttered a string of profanities at Emily while leaving her to herself, causing the bar stool next to him to scrape over the floor with a loud noise and prompt some other patrons to turn their heads.

The regular murmurs and conversations and clinking of glasses continued without incident though, as this sort of thing was a common scene in a bar like this.

Emily sighed when she saw a familiar segment rearing to come up on the TV. While some advertisements fired up with obnoxious lettering and white-washed imagery on the screen, she waved the bartender over.

“Can we change the channel? Isn’t there, like, a fucking game on, or something?” she asked him, clearing her throat in between the sentence fragments, taking her voice from raspy to gravelly. She pointed her index finger past the glass of whiskey she was holding.

The bartender, seemingly nice enough all evening, slung a small towel over his shoulder and leaned in over the counter to her. He seemed to register her request with a bit of a delay, then forced himself to smile. He nodded, then pointed to someone at the opposite end of the counter.

“I’ll get right on it after taking care of the gentleman over there,” he said.

She watched him saunter over yonder, taking his sweet time. Stifling a groan with a sigh, Emily muttered to herself, “Happy fuckin’ birthday to me, I guess.”

Right about when the bartender returned to her end of the counter, the ads ended and the segment started. Some shaky, grainy pictures flashed across the screen, commented on by a lady with one of those perms that looked like it was made of plastic. The graphics heralded an exposé about human trafficking discovered on the Canadian border between Vancouver and Seattle.

With a rosy color flushing her pale cheeks, Emily emptied the glass and covered half her face with a hand as if to bury it there, though all she wanted to do was hide.

The bartender leaned down and grabbed something from behind the counter, then froze mid motion of aiming the remote control at the TV set. He blinked as he saw a red-haired reporter with a mean green-eyed glare on the screen—one who happened to look a lot like Emily. Or rather—exactly like her, if you could tell the change in outfits apart. His head went on swivel between the Emily at the bar and the Emily on screen until he lowered the remote and casually leaned against the counter.

“Holy shit, is that you? You some kinda reporter, huh?”

“Fuck,” Emily hissed under her breath, managing to eke out a smile that refused to reach her eyes. She hunched even deeper over the counter towards the bartender and then hushed him with the words, “Yep, that’s me, Sherlock. Let’s not make a big deal out of it, ‘kay? I’m trying to unwind tonight.”

The bartender scanned her face with what was growing interest, but he turned to look back up at the screen again, giving her a curt nod in response.

“Gotcha,” he whispered. Watching the footage fly through, inter-cut with pieces of interviews and Emily being followed by a shaky camera switched into night mode, the bartender still couldn’t help but emit a short little whistle between his teeth.

“Damn, I’m not gonna turn the audio up, but that looks like some rough stuff,” he said.

His features softened as he could spot Emily’s mien darkening. He slid to lean over the counter and keep his voice down as he asked, “You okay? No offense, but you’ve been lookin’ down in the dumps all evenin’.”

“No offense, but whenever anybody starts anything with 'no offense’, it’s gonna offend, buddy,” she said, glaring at him.

“Jeeze, okay, I get it. You’re not here to talk. But I feel like I’d be an asshole for not asking,” he said, absentmindedly scratching the fashionable stubble on his chin.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Brian.”

Emily smirked and said, “Okay, Brian? You keep the drinks coming, we both mind our own business, and I’ll make like a tree soon enough.”

Something sparkled in Brian’s eyes and he shook his head with a strange slowness. Emily struggled to read what it meant or where it was coming from. A couple of drinks earlier and she would have had him figured out easily, but the meds mixing with the booze were doing her signature skills no favor. Her gut instinct swung wildly between him either feeling pity or genuine care for a fellow human being.

“I do have some responsibility here. I wouldn’t let you walk outta here knowing you had to drive after all the drinks you’ve been pounding down on, and I sure as hell am not gonna just pretend you can see that kinda—”

He cast a sidelong glance up at the TV screen, then continued, “That kinda shit doesn’t just bounce off o’ ya. Just seeing something like that on the news is enough to upset me. I can’t even imagine what it’s like to be there, and talk to the monsters who do shit like that. Or, y'know, the victims of those monsters.”

The sparkle in his eyes turned wet, glistening with empathy. Brian was good, Emily thought.

“C'mon, humor me. I bet it’ll be a load off o’ your shoulders to talk about it. I hear plenty o’ sob stories and have to pretend that they’re oh-so-tragic, but even all that petty bullshit eventually gets to me.”

Emily said nothing. Continued studying his face.

“Costs you sleep, leads to drinking to sleep more, which leads to—eh, you know where I’m going with this.”

He shrugged and bit his lip, awaiting a response from her after all his rambling. The other people in the bar never turned silent, but the silence that welled up between Emily and Brian became so thick that you could have cut it with a knife.

“Okay,” she said. She put the glass down and repeated herself with another smirk, this one far less convincing and with far less confidence than any other expression she had brandished that night. “Okay. Brian? You might wanna buckle up, because this is a wild ride. Fuck, I don’t even know where to start. Much easier to write these things than to present them.”

She shot a glance up at the TV, conveniently presenting one of the monsters Brian had unwittingly mentioned.

“See that schmuck right there? Married, three children, successful business owner, respected in his community, loves walkin’ his dog in the park, probably tips generously, and also responsible for making twelve Vietnamese women live in a filthy fucking dungeon of a basement for ten years—forced into sex work, allowed out only to assemble and package counterfeit watches. Real piece o’ shit, sub-human, scum-sucking trash with a heart so fucking rotten that it might as well be a black hole. And he wasn’t even the mastermind or anything, he was basically middle management in this outfit of human-shaped turds.”

Emily kept getting more worked up as she swore up a storm and recounted the discoveries from her research. Brian visibly swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat and she could tell he was only moments away from breaking out into a cold sweat just from hearing the fury in her account.

“Her name was Tran. These dirt-bags trafficked her across the ocean to America, together with other girls, in containers that must have reeked to the high heavens of human shit and piss, subsisting on nothing but scraps of rotten fucking food. She was separated from her 5-year-old kid when they took her after promising her a better life for her family, and then these rat bastards on our side of the drink tried to ferry her over the border to Vancouver with some others by sticking her in a fucking refrigerator truck where she froze to death behind some pallets stacked with meat. With fucking meat,” she said with some spittle frothing on her lip. “Because that’s all she was to these monsters.”

Emily crammed a fist into her jacket pocket and produced a crumpled up pack of cheap cigarettes from it. She dumped it on the counter in front of her, together with a smartphone with a display so cracked that it would be close to impossible to read anything on it, and a plastic lighter clattering out onto the counter next to it.

“I don’t even know if they deserve to be called monsters. Because a monster at least acts upon instinct, like a fucking animal. Eat, fuck, shit, sleep, rinse repeat. But these motherfuckers, I swear,” she dug a cigarette out of the pack and swiftly lit it up.

Brian’s face had long fallen into a twisted visage of disgust and despair, paralyzed and incapable of escaping her cutting monologue, and his speechlessness extended into his inability to tell Emily she wasn’t allowed to smoke inside the pub. He feebly pointed at the cigarette she now took a long drag from and then rubbed his face instead.

With the force of frustration, she blew out some smoke before continuing her furious rant. She pointed at the TV screen with the burning cigarette clamped between her fingers. Some heads at the other end of the dive now turned to look at her again, the murmurs likely questioning what was going on there.

“They go home, they go shopping in a grocery store like you and me, they go to barbecue parties, they tuck their kids in at night, and they probably play poker or some shit. All the while they are quietly committing passionless murders; just cold calculated without any remorse. Enriching themselves with the suffering of the human beings they treat like fucking meat.”

More smoke billowed out of her nostrils like a dragon breathing fire when she picked up again, not missing a beat, “By the time Tran was twenty-seven and they recovered her body from the back of that truck, the autopsy showed that all the slave labor and all sex work had given her permanent spine damage. So, she was in constant crippling pain for the final fuckin’ years of her life before she died an undignified death without a single fucking soul to mourn her passing. And don’t you fucking give me that bunch of rotten, disingenuous politicians farcically conveying their condolences while scampering around to cover up for anybody in the police or border control who were in on this whole operation before we popped the lid on the entire stinking cess pool. Allegedly,” she said, letting the final word ooze out with bitter contempt.

Emily stopped herself, arched her head back and released an almost satisfied groan. It did feel good, at least somewhat. Sweet, sweet release.

She looked at Brian the bartender, now staring at her with eyes as wide as saucers, rendered speechless by her outburst of pent-up rage and verbal diarrhea that came from a festering disease that was what Emily’s view of humanity had become.

Her heart raced, but the frayed ends of her nerves had stopped screaming. For now.

After taking a long drag from her cigarette and savoring the next cloud of smoke she exhaled, she dug around in her pocket to get out some cash, spilling it out onto the counter in form of crinkled dollar bills and coins and leaving a pathetic tip because that was all she had on her.

Her voice dropped in volume, “Thanks, Bri. Good talk.”

She patted the money she was leaving on the counter and stood up straight. Or as straight as she could manage, because she drunkenly swayed a bit—which she elegantly masked with her years of drinking experience by slinging her jacket on.

One of the other patrons whose stare lingered on her for too long drew another deadly glare from Emily.

“The fuck are you lookin’ at?” her words muffled as she kept the cigarette clamped in between her lips. His eyes widened and he lowered himself over his drink while the other people at his table went silent with him.

Brian stammered out something, but Emily was too wasted already to really make out the precise words, and too far gone for that night to give a damn. He was probably going to check in on her and see if she was alright, yet again. Bless his soul.

She pushed open the front door. The jingle of a bell overhead caused her to flinch when she staggered out into the drizzle of rain outside the bar and she let the door slam shut behind her. Emily popped the collar of her jacket and wandered off into the city’s night.

After taking a final angry drag from her cigarette, she tossed the butt into a gutter and buried her hands in her jacket pockets while she stumbled on her way home, in the rough direction of her dingy downtown apartment.

She came upon a homeless guy sitting on the sidewalk with a cardboard sign right next to him, but the letters written on it blurred into something incomprehensible to Emily’s drunken stare. He was wrapped up in layers of sweaters and jackets and had a hood up over his head, with some newspapers spread out on top to shield him from the rain. But the sheets of paper were turning dark quickly, soaking up the raindrops as they grew in size and frequency.

With the rustling of the newspapers, the homeless man looked up at her, but the darkness concealed most of his features beyond a gray beard and skin that looked like a roadmap of sunburnt wrinkles.

“You should get outta the rain, buddy, s'gonna be a downpour tonight,” she told him.

He just stared at her. Shadows cloaked his eyes and a pit formed in Emily’s stomach.

“I ain’t got any change. Just pissed it all away just now. Sorry, man.”

She tried to lock eyes with him, but found no eyes underneath that veil of darkness over his own. The lack of a reaction began to creep her out. She gave him a bowing nod and walked on with a clipped, “Night.”

A few steps further down the sidewalk, she figured she might regret it, but considered inviting him home. The poor bastard might freeze to death on a late autumn night like this.

“When the world is a prison, there are those who are the prisoners cursed with unknowing, and the jailers who hold the keys to their unseen cells. Which are you?”

Those words rolled out with a fluid clarity and a gravity to rival the weight of the world. There was something about them—a sense of finality—that lent them a sinister air. They came from behind Emily—from that homeless man.

She turned slowly. Her heart raced, this time not with anger, but a growing sense of dread. She feared to see what this homeless man had turned into. His voice was as voluminous as that of a giant, as imposing as a king.

But there was nobody there. Emily looked around in disbelief. There was nobody else in this narrow street. The drizzle intensified until it turned into full-blown rain.

A cold shudder ran down her spine and Emily shivered. She suddenly remembered the pictures of Tran from the autopsy report, pale and lifeless, with eyes closed. An innocence destroyed by the monsters of this world. A horrible truth that Emily had helped unearth.

Emily went home and locked all three locks of her apartment door, shooing her three cats off her bed and crashing onto the covers without undressing.

The dark void of a dreamless sleep enveloped her within seconds and the next day, nothing would be the same, ever again.

This was the final night before her awakening.

—Submitted by Wratts

[the-gay-trashmouth]

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Underage drinking/smoking

Ship(s): Javid, background sprace and Newsbians

Notes: This is pure fluff. Im so sorry it took me this long, brain is a bitch but i really tried.

~~~~~~~~~

Davey Jacobs was, as they say, a good jewish boy. He didn’t drink, he didn’t smoke, and the only drugs he took were his antidepressants and anxiety stabilizers.

So, how the fuck did mister golden child end up at a party like this with friends like these?

Around him, the friends in question danced around Katherine’s living room as Billie Eilish filtered through the speakers. Half of them were drunk off the vodka Mush had somehow gotten hold of and the other half were high from the weed Davey knew Albert got from one of his older brothers, even though the red-head swears he has some top secret dealer.

The only sober one aside from himself was Spot, who didn’t drink and refused to get high with so many people around. Davey had really only ever seen him high once, and that was the night of Jack’s 17th birthday when the five of them, Crutchie, Jack, Race, Spot, and Davey himself, all went up to the roof to smoke.

Apparently, the King a’ Brooklyn was a giggly stoner.

Davey also found out that he was a philosophical stoner, but he’ll keep that to himself. He would actually be murdered if his mother ever found out what really happened at Jack’s 17th birthday party, and he quite enjoyed being alive at the moment.

Now, ever so tragically, the only other sober person there was currently making out with Race on the couch, and Davey had less than zero interest in going anywhere near that. So he stood against the wall, sipping his lemonade and laughing quietly to himself when his intoxicated friends made absolute drunken fools of themselves.

He heard a commotion from the other room, but before Davey even had time to wonder what it was, Jack somehow appeared from the void and draped an arm around Davey's shoulders. Though he had gotten much more used to the casual touches and surprise arms slung around his shoulders, Davey's brain still gave him a brief error message whenever it happened.

He shook it off and looked at Jack with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes?”

“Hey Dave” he slurred in the taller boy's ear. David shook his head and tried his hand at a grin, though it looked more like a grimace when he scrunched up his nose up at the sent of the strawberry liquor.

“Hello Jack”

“Hey Dave?” This time it was a question instead of a greeting.

“Yes Jack?”

“Hey Daaave?” Jack either didn’t hear him or was too drunk to register that Davey had answered already. Davey just snorted softly and rolled his eyes.

“Whaaaat?”

Jack paused, looking up at him with the best puppy dog eyes his intoxicated brain could muster. Davey, for his part, was pretty okay, amused even, despite the fact that the smell of vodka on Jack’s breath was starting to make his head hurt.

“You should come play truth or dare with us,” he said, and immediately Davey ducked away, causing Jack to stumble forward without Davey to hold him up.

“No”

“But Daveyy!”

“But nothin’” davey crossed his arms and fixed Jack with his best motherly glare. Alas, it did not work and Jack just tried again.

“C'mon!” He tugged at Davey's arm and gave his best pleading look.

“Jack, buddy, pal, my platonic soulmate- there is no way I'm playing truth or dare with all of our intoxicated friends” he said decisively, “Jacky, I wouldn't play truth or dare with our friends sober. I love you all, I really do, but I don't trust any of you with my free will”

“Pretty pleease” Jack was now hanging fully off of David’s arm, begging like a child. David’s mouth quirked up into a smile for a brief second but returned to its usual motherly look.

“Not happenin’” Jack looked up at Davey with pleading eyes and the taller boy sighed. He really wasn’t getting out of this. Jack would just keep begging and begging until he gave in, there was literally no other option but to play.

“Alright alright, you win. I’ll play. But only for like two rounds!” he held up two fingers for emphasis and Jack grinned, grabbing his wrist to drag him towards the group already circling up.

There was a chorus of drunken whoops as he sat down in the circle. Spot raised an eyebrow at him as he begrudgingly joined them.

“Thought ya ain’t the type for these party games?” he asked, combing his hands through Race’s dirty blonde curls as the italian’s lips acted as chimneys, blowing curls of smoke in Spot’s face.

“Hey! I’m not some stick in the mud! I can have fun!” he replied indignantly. Spot just fixed him with an unimpressed look, though he wore it so often Davey thought that it may have just been his default expression.

Still, the taller boy sighed in defeat, “yeah, I’m not. But I suppose I am for tonight.”

Spot nodded, raising his capri sun at him in a toast as though it was a distinguished wine or manly beer, not a kids juice in a pouch. The sight made Davey chuckle softly to himself, The King a’ Brooklyn, scariest teen in New York, rumored to have connections to the mob, toasting his joining of truth or dare with a capri sun.

Really, why was the entire city so scared of this guy?

David jumped as Jack plopped down beside him, arm around his shoulder again. He blinked away the error message and sighed.

It started out innocently enough, weird as it was. Blink had to chug the rest of the voldka, Hotshot had to do a headstand for a full minute, and Race had to sit on Spot’s shoulders for the rest of the game. (He didn’t mind)

David also found out that JoJo once hooked up with an alter boy in church, Kathrine once blackmailed both of the Delancy brothers into doing her bidding for a full month, and Mush failed second grade and then skipped third.

“So, Spot, buddy, truth or dare?” Mush grinned drunkenly at him, draped over Blink’s lap.

“Truth”

Mush booed. “Boring~” he groaned, “fine, what's your real name?”

Race looked up at him anxiously, but Spot just nodded. “Ah, yes, funny story-” instead of finishing his sentence, he snatched the bottle of alcohol from Jack and took a swig.

“Oh, C’mon!” Spot just grinned, shuddering at the taste before passing it back to Jack.

“So, Jackie boy, truth or dare?”

Jack grinned, “Dare, I ain't no coward”

Spot raised an eyebrow, looking at Race for a beat before grinning like a shark. “A’ight, mista brave boy, I dare ya’ ta kiss the prettiest person in the room. Anyone’s up for the chopping block, except of course my Racer here,” David knew Spot was at least buzzed as he looked up to grin at Race as the other boy “aww”d and pressed a sloppy kiss to the corner of his mouth. Albert made a gagging noise as Race flipped him the bird.

David looked at Katherine with a raised eyebrow. Everyone remembered when she and Jack dated in their sophomore year. It ended badly, but they got to be friends again. Now, Sarah was passed out in her lap, arms wrapped loosely around her middle.

She was most certainly over him now, but he still assumed that she’d be who Jack choose.

So imagine his surprise when lips landed on his cheek.

He was too frozen in shock to really register the whoops and whistles coming from their mutual friends. He looked at jack, blue eyes wide as saucers, only to see the other boy with a lopsided grin.

Spot snorted, “that wasn’t even a real kiss! Thought you wasn’t a coward?”

“Hey! It’s rude to just go an’ kiss a fella!” he argued, “I ain’t kissin’ him ‘less he wants me too!”

“He does, trust me” Sarah grumbled from her spot in Katherine’s lap.

“Saz!”

“What? Ya’ do”

David sputtered, cheeks reddening be the second. His breath caught in his throat when Jack brought his hands up to cup his cheeks. He smiled before leaning in a bit. “Please tell me you’re okay wit’ this” he said almost breathlessly.

“I uh, yeah,” David cursed his stutter for probably the millionth time in his life, “Yeah, total-”

He was cut off with Jack’s lips on his. He dully registered the whoops and hollers from the teenagers around his but currently his senses were overtaken with just Jack Jack Jack Jack Jack Jack Jack.

When they pulled back, they were both breathless. David looked up at Jack, who hadn’t stopped grinning.

“That- I… You taste like vodka.”

[morbid-n-macabre]

This is Cody Posey. Cody murdered his entire family when he was 14 years old; a few years later, at age 21, he was released back into society.

Cody had been living on a ranch in Hondo, New Mexico with his father, Delbert "Paul" Posey, his step-mother, Tryone, and his step-sister, 13 year old Marilea Schmid. From day one Cody's life had been troubled; two electricians would later recall doing some work for Paul when Cody was approximately 18 months old; apparently baby Cody did something which his father didn't appreciate, and Paul took his belt off. The electricians claim they had to physically pull the man off of this baby. Cody's biological mother, Carla Burst, couldn't deal with the abuse, she left Paul pretty early on. A bitter custody battle which stretched out over the years ensued; Carla finally gained full custody after Cody was beaten black and blue with a board by his father. The boy was thrilled to be with his Mama, but tragically Cody's happiness would only last a few months; there was a roll over car wreck which took the life of Carla Burst. Cody begged and pleaded not to be placed with his father, but that's precisely where he was sent.

From here on out Cody was abused each and every single day. The boy was beaten and forced to work 7 days a week on the ranch, from dawn to dusk, often without any food at all. But simple beatings and work wasn't the worst of it, Paul was sadistic bastard; he used an electric cattle prod on his son, beat the child with a lasso, dragged him behind a horse, and this is only some of the physical abuse in which this child withstood! Sadly Paul's wife, Tryone, was no better, and even Cody's stepsister was recruited to join in on the abuse; Marilea was rewarded for telling her parents whenever Cody did something his father wouldn't approve of. Even at school Cody could find no solace; he was watched like a hawk by his perfect stepsister who was just slightly younger than him, and beaten for every and any little thing. For Cody there were no buddies to hang out with, no football teams to cheer for, no days spent riding around on his bicycle, no little girlfriends to crush on. Cody was nothing more than an unpaid ranch hand and his father's whipping boy, and that's it. Well, I say unpaid, but that's not completely true: Cody was allowed ten dollars per month. Paul cashed the monthly SSI checks which Cody received from his mother's death, yet the boy reportedly worked every single day for months with holes in his boots until he could save enough allowance to purchase a new pair of work boots! Yes, child protective services was called several times throughout the years (I read somewhere that the abuse was reported 7 times!) but nothing was ever done; it's just one of those cases where everyone dropped the ball.

All of this went on for years, and maybe the teen never would've retaliated but Tryone and Paul finally pushed the boy too damn far. You know that old saying: There's only so many times you can kick a dog before he bites back? Cody finally bit back. On the evening before of the murders, 4th of July in 2004, Cody claims he was called to his parent's bedroom; when he walked in to see what was required of him, Cody found his stepmother, Tyrone, laying completely naked in her bed. Paul ordered that Cody be intimate with Tryone while he watched, and his nude stepmother attempted to pull the teen to her chest. When Cody refused, his father burnt him on the shoulder with a scrap of metal and a torch! The teen bit Tryone, an act for which Cody was burnt by his father once again. He somehow managed to get away from the situation, the teenager ran to his bedroom where he claims to have cowered in fear the rest of the night. Paul and Tryone had been abusing this young man for years; they'd beaten, tortured, isolated, starved, and humiliated him, but they would not sexually abuse him. In the morning Cody went out to perform his usual duties which included cleaning out the horse stalls. He wasn't performing this "chore" quickly enough, and his father slapped him; Cody later testified that this was when "I more or less lost my mind", it's thought that the teen likely dissociated. Cody grabbed a .38 Special out of his sister's saddlebag, went into the house, and walked up behind his step mother who was nestled up on the couch with a book; the teenager blew a couple of holes through his female abuser's skull. When his father and step sister heard the gun blasts they immediately ran to see what was the matter; the teen shot Paul, then he turned the gun on his sister. How could he leave Marilea alive when it had been her job in life to tattle on him for everything? When his family was dead, the teen loaded the bodies up in a backhoe, dumped them in a ravine, then covered them up with piles of manure. That right there says a whole heck of a lot about the way Cody felt, doesn't it? He physically buried his family in actual crap! Afterwords the teen discarded the murder weapon in a local body of water, drove his murdered father's vehicle to the store for a bottle of Sprite, then he went off to stay with a buddy until his arrest.

So the ranch was owned by a well known local reporter named Sam Donaldson, and by the 6th of July Sam had grown concerned. Paul had been strangely silent, so Sam and his wife decided to drive out to the property and see what was going on. Though Cody had buried the bodies in a crappy shallow grave, he hadn't even attempted to clean up any of the blood or gore; after walking into the home Sam called police. Cody was promptly arrested and charged with triple homicide, crimes to which he quickly confessed; the three corpses were soon recovered.

Much of the abuse in which Cody had survived came out during trial; literally dozens of witnesses testified on the teenagers behalf. A ranch hand named Isabel Vasquez testified to having seen Paul hit Cody in the stomach and shoulder with a pipe for no reason whatsoever, he had watched Paul strike the teen with rocks the size of golf balls, and in the photo I'm enclosing Isabel is demonstrating how Paul used a large metal hook to punish Cody for not moving bales of hay quickly enough.

The physical and emotional abuse was backed up by many witnesses, but of course nobody had been around during the attempted sexual abuse. That said, there's evidence which points towards it being the truth: during the investigation police discovered incestuous pornography on Paul's personal computer. This type of porn, much of it parent/child incest, had often been frequented while Cody and his sister were at school.

Sandy Schmid was Paul's second wife; the two had been married for 5 years while Cody was little. Sandy testified that Paul had always been abusive, and while she was living in the home she had done her very best to protect her stepson from his father's wrath. Sandy also stated that Paul had always had a strange obsession with incest porn. Nearly everyone begged the judge to have mercy on this young man, including the biological father of Cody's murdered stepsister; Marilea's dad, Jake Schmid testified on his daughter's killers behalf! It's a strange situation though, because Jake knew Cody pretty well; Jake had married Paul's second wife, Sandy, so when Jake would pick up Marilea for weekend visits, Cody would come with and spend time with the stepmother. Jake stated on the stand that he had always believed Paul to be abusive towards Cody, that he'd seen fear in the boy's eyes more than once when it was time to go home; Marilea's father also said that he did not hold any ill will towards the young man for what he had done, he felt nothing but empathy for his daughter's killer.

Now not everyone felt sorry for the teenager; the state claimed that Cody's abuse was widely over exaggerated. Their case was that Cody had become angry after his father smacked him as punishment for not cleaning out the horse stalls quickly enough, and they submitted seemingly happy family photos as proof that there had been no ongoing abuse. One of the few witnesses for the prosecution was Verlin Posey, Paul's brother. Verlin claimed that he had never noticed any abuse, nor did he ever see any bruises on Cody. Verlin was seemingly pleased with the idea that his nephew would be spending his life in prison: "One lifetime in prison is a pretty small debt for three.".

Cody was convicted of 1st degree murder in the case of his stepsister, Marilea, 2nd degree murder for killing stepmother Tryone, and manslaughter in the case of his father, Paul. There were also 4 charges of evidence tampering; Cody was looking at life imprisonment. Apparently it was left up to the judge to decide whether the teen was sentenced as an adult or a youthful offender. After hearing all of the evidence in this case, the judge had mercy; Cody was sentenced to psychiatric treatment, and to remain in a juvenile facility until he turned 21 years of age.

In September of '06 a couple of Paul's relatives (I'm willing to bet it was his brother, Verlin) filed a wrongful death lawsuit against the creators of the video game Grand Theft Auto and Sony, among others. In a nutshell, they claimed that the teen had been trained to kill by the video game GTA.

While incarcerated the teen finished highschool and continued his education with college. On October 9th of 2010, which was Cody's 21st birthday, he was released; today he is free, and that's pretty much all we know. He's blending in somewhere, presumably living amongst us.

*I usually *try* to leave my opinion at the door, so to speak, but it's not really possible in this case; this is one killer who I would not mind living next door to me. There is so much abuse which was witnessed by people, so much was left out of this article. They isolated and abused this kid in every way possible. Anyways, I hope Cody is faring well out there, and that adult life is kinder to him than childhood was. Everyone has their breaking point, right? Have you ever thought about it? What could drive you to murder?

[zynita]

My Decade in Books

I was tagged by the lovely @brightbeautifulthings and her blog is filled with exactly that, so please jump over and give her a follow.

The 2010's were good years - they weren't perfect by any means and they involved a lot of growing up/learning what it means to be an adult, but I think that I came out of them a much better person and better prepared for what the world has in store for me. Looking back, I read a lot of amazing books! When I went back to make my choices for this post I was surprised to find that I read 333 books from 2012 through 2019! 2012 was the year that I created my Goodreads account and since then I have used it to track my reading progress over the years, so looking back at 2010 and 2011 may be a bit hazy, but there are a couple of special reading moments near and dear to my heart that I can share. So let's get into this~

The Rules: Respond to the prompt “My Decade in Books” however you want and then tag some people! I decided to share a book and/or series which defined the year along with some of my memories/reasons as to for doing so. You can do that or make up a response that is entirely your own, there is no wrong way to go about it.

2010: Yep, like many I got caught up in the Twilight craze and while I still find sparkly vampires a bit odd/silly, this series did motivate me to start reading again on a regular basis. Prior to that, I had been in a car accident in the late fall/early winter of 2006 and then my daughter was born April 2007. Unfortunately, my mental health was not the greatest as I was dealing with post-partum depression in combination with my pre-existing depression and possible/slight post-concussive changes. In 2010 I was given a boxed set of the series as a birthday gift and reading it ultimately helped spark my interest in books again - this was one of the first steps to breaking out of my apathetic depression. I will always be thankful for Twilight because it showed me that I was still capable of feeling real living breathing changing emotions.

2011: This year was marked by the completion of my Associate's Degree in Accounting/Business Administration that spring and acceptance to continue studying accounting at the local state university. My daughter was 4 years old and about to start preschool. We were able to get a place of our own moving in with my wife (then girlfriend) into a cute 2-bedroom apartment - we became a family. One of the best memories I have from our time living there was how at night I would read the story of the boy wizard who lived in a closet under the stairs to our daughter. This series would go on to define so much of our lives as it became her favorite for a number of years - the first major book series she read entirely on her own, eventually going on to do so in Spanish as well. We became a small flock of Ravenclaws and she has bloomed into quite the reader herself. I will always have a soft spot in my heart and memory for this series because of the story it tells and for the part it played in our story.

2012: I previously read King's Dark Tower in the mid 2000's and the story deeply resonated with me. When I found out that King was planning to release a new Dark Tower book, The Wind Through the Keyhole, I knew that I had to reread the series. The series' story feels dark and gritty, the tale of a knight from a world that has moved on fulfilling his quest to reach the Tower, revered as the center of all worlds. There is a certain tragic nostalgic romance to the story of an old knight in a dying world haunted by his past questing with what initially seems to be an unlikely group, only to eventually come together as something more - as ka-tet. This is a series that I know I will return to in the future.

2013: If you go through my Tumblr history, specifically on my book blog, you will come across my reviews and a large portion of my reviews written in 2013 dealt with my read through of Laurell K. Hamilton's Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter series - 22 books and 1 novella (Guilty Pleasures through Affliction). I first picked up Guilty Pleasures during a book sale in ~2011 and I recall reading it and a couple of the subsequent books (maybe 3 of them at most). At first, I was drawn in by Anita herself but when I came back to the books in 2013 and read the entire series I found myself intrigued by the many characters around Anita and her relationships with them. The series started as one thing and developed into something different - changing focus from a supernatural police procedural to being more character driven. This doesn't mean that Anita doesn't still go out and hunt the bad guys, but it is no longer the absolute main focus of the story and I am okay with that. Anita and her relationship struggles helped me to understand/come to terms with the concept that love isn't the same across all relationships, that people love differently and that is okay. It helped me to become comfortable in the knowledge that I can love others and it doesn't compromise/lessen the love that I have for my wife. For that reason alone, I will always have a strong admiration/fondness for Anita Blake. I plan on reading the two most recent releases (Crimson Death and Serpentine) some time this year!~

2014: This year was a very very difficult year for me and my wife and I spiraled into a deep depression. Due to my mental health difficulties I failed to complete my bachelor's degree program and had to leave school. I ultimately wound up doing nothing more than sleeping, playing video games, and attempting to read when I could. I remember that I was scrolling through Tumblr and I saw a post praising The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern - I was immediately enamoured with the cover, the starkness of the black/white/red, a circus, magic, and intrigue, I had to read it. My first read through took me 4 days because I never wanted it to end. This book helped me break a major reading slump through its beautiful lyrical prose of opponents turned lovers forged and bound within the fire locked behind the blackened gates of the traveling Les Cirques des Reves. I have read this book a total of 4 times and each time has only further deepened my love and appreciation for it - this book is my ultimate comfort read (though it may now have strong competition from her sophomore novel, The Starless Sea).

2015: At the behest of my love and my pseudo brother (I basically adopted him as the younger brother I never had) I picked up/started reading Robert Jordan's epic fantasy saga Wheel of Time which was ultimately completed by Brandon Sanderson following the death of Jordan. The series made up a great deal of my 2015 reading though I did make time for other books as well. What I particularly loved about the series was a combination of the richness of the world and the complexity of the characters. We witness these characters as they mature and grow into themselves ultimately becoming worthy of the title of ta'veren placed upon them by the Wheel. With the Amazon TV show on the horizon, I will likely pick up the series again and with subsequent readthroughs comes the opportunity to pick up on little things/foreshadowing that may have been missed before.

2016: This was another year where I didn't read a lot of books (only 38), but the majority of the ones I read were ones that I really enjoyed and Gail Carriger's Parasol Protectorate Series was a notable favorite. While I was working on my bachelor's degree I had the opportunity to take an upper division English course focused on Victorian Era literature and what started as a spark of interest became a warm comforting fire. Parasol Protectorate combined two genres which I had enjoyed on their own (historical fiction and paranormal/fantasy[?]) into something which felt entirely unique. I fell in love with the characters and thoroughly enjoyed the series - so much so that I have returned to Carriger's Victorian Era with my current read through of her Finishing School Series, an upcoming re-read of Parasol Protectorate, and a first time read through of the sequel series The Custard Protocol.

2017: So much of 2017 is honestly a blur... I was hired in July 2015 as a medical transcriptionist but over the following years would continue to gain increased responsibilities (with associated pay increases) allowing for some pretty notable things to occur leading up to my girlfriend and I getting married!~ We had been dating/living together in addition to having been friends for so much time before that it just made sense for us to get married and I can't picture my life without her in it. My favorite read that year was E.K. Johnston's That Inevitable Victorian Thing for so many reasons. The novel plays with history as we know it and speculates on what would have occurred had colonialism never taken root and instead a utopia was formed under the British Empire - an empire without racism, homophobia, and classism built upon mutual respect and harmony. This book is full of diversity/representation/LGBTQIA+/etc. while exploring identity, orientation, and relationships in a respectful/open-minded manner. I have already slated this book for a re-read as soon as I finish my current read through of Carriger's works.

2018: This book is probably one of the most important books I have ever read. I can't remember how exactly I came across it but I knew that I had to read it as soon as I read the synopsis. I then shared it with my daughter (who was then 11 years old) and we decided to buddy read it. This book...this is the book that I wish I had had the opportunity to read when I was that same age attempting to learn about and understand my own sexuality. This book has also allowed my wife and me to have a continuing, open dialogue with our daughter (now turning 13 in April). I actually Tweeted this basic sentiment to Ms. Blake upon finishing the book and she actually replied to me!~

Since then my daughter has read the book multiple times and we bought her a hardback copy for Christmas. Maybe one day we can attend a signing and thank Ms. Blake for Ivy's story personally.

2019: My favorite of read of 2019 was Elizabeth Wein's Code Name Verity. ((I know, I could have easily posted and gushed about Erin Morgenstern's The Starless Sea which I absolutely love but given that I had previously mentioned The Night Circus I felt it prudent to discuss something else.)) When I was book blogging in 2013-2014 I remember seeing a lot of posts talking about it and its unique approach to storytelling. I remember picking up the ebook but I was so caught up in reading other things at the time that it sat on my TBR shelf. Fast forward to last year and I finally decided to take the time and read it. Color me 100% floored and angry at myself for waiting so long to read it! I fell absolutely in love with Verity/Julie, with the story that she wove, with the friendship between her and Maddie. The synopsis describes the book as "harrowing" and "beautifully written," descriptors that I wholeheartedly agree with. My wife knew how much I enjoyed it and I received a copy of the hardback edition which will eventually grace my bookshelf (sort of kind of need to buy one first).

So that is My Decade in Books! I am very bad about tagging people in things, but if you saw the post and feel so inclined to make one of your own please do and tag me in it to check out. If you stuck through this post to the end, I greatly appreciate it and wish you well in the new reading decade.

*Zyn/Melanie*