#and I’m sure they’ll get back together but ! that is CERTAINLY not what I need/want to see rn lmaooooo

[authenticcadence18]

I’ve been watching New Girl and did not anticipate starting 2025, my year of leaving the past behind and growing and thriving in the future, with Nick and Jess breaking up 😀

[gor3sigil]

I’m Trans and Insane and I’m doing fine.

[TW Psychosis, transphobia, psychophobia, medication, psych ward]

“Are you sure ?” she asked.

I remember looking back at her in disbelief, because that was certainly a question I never asked her when she came out.

“Why do you ask ?” I say.

“Dude, I’ve seen you go into depersonalization so hard you even thought you were a human soul in a robot vessel and now, you want me to trust you when you say that you, too, are trans ?”

That’s the memory that comes back to me as I fold and put in my bag my psychiatrist’s note attesting that I suffer from gender dysphoria, NOT LINKED to any psychotic symptoms. Here it goes in my folder with my prescription note, an increase - again - of my anti depressants and Xan, and my endocrinologist’s HRT prescription, increased too - finally.

I go to two separate pharmacies to pick up each prescription for two reasons:

There is only one in this godforsaken town that always had testosterone in stock.

I can’t explain to you with words the look you can get when you give back to back, to someone who, despite not being a doctor, works in healthcare, a note for trans HRT and then a note for psychiatric meds.

And I’m lucky, because I’m not taking antipsychotics anymore. Contrarily to what you could think, it doesn’t magically makes the voices and the shadowy people disappear, but it can make a mess of your head pretty bad and my doctor and I both agreed that I didn’t need more damage up here than what I already had. And no, it doesn’t make your delusions vanish magically too: in fact, I was still pretty certain that I was talking to my soul family out here in Argentine telepathically about my mission on Earth, the meds just made it more difficult to understand their voices, but the belief was still solid.

Anyways, I’m back home with the Hoy Grail I fought tooth and nails to get: a letter from the Sacred Council of Mental Sanity also known as Psychiatry that I was, indeed, a bit delulu, but also trans, and that both things didn’t play into each other. My transness wasn’t a delusion, my delusions didn’t have anything to do with being trans.

Or did it ?

Chicken or egg, you know the drill. Did I have my selves fractured before and one of the piece that shattered my brain happened to make me trans or was I just trans with a shitload of traumas in the back that made me insane ?

But don’t worry, at least, trans people when we’re together, we have each other’s back ! Right ?

“Transidentity ISN’T a mental illness !! We don’t DESERVE to be FORCIBLY LOCKED UP and MEDICATED and MADE TO CONFORM FOR OTHER’S SENSE OF SECURITY !!”

Neither do I, RIGHT ?

Oh

Or do I ?

Remember what she said, my girlfriend, right at the beginning ?

How I can’t be trusted about myself when sometimes I don’t even have a sense of self anymore or I have too much selves who fight against each other ?

And what do we say to that ?

Get treatment. Get in-patient. Take medication. And for the love of God, shut the fuck up about it, you’re giving us a bad name.

Because being trans and crazy can’t exist. It’s absurd. You have to fix one of these two things. Choose which jacket I’ll wear, and they call it a straitjacket for a reason it seems, so am I queer or am I insane ?

All I know today is there isn’t a universe in which I’m a trans without any mental illnesses, or mentally ill without being trans. And yet, I can’t tell you how many time I got asked “do you think you’d be trans if you never got through [x trauma] ?”. I. Don’t. Know. I’ll never know. And I deserve just as much agency as you get despite being mentally ill. If you don’t believe in that, don’t come yapping about “liberation for all of us”, but “if one of us is crazy they’ll all think I am too and that can’t happen”.

No LGBTQIAA+ person deserves to be told they need to be put away, to be cured, to be allowed out in the open only if they’re deemed “acceptable” by society’s standards. And no mentally ill people deserve to either.

No trans person should be going through years of counseling to have the access to HRT.

And I shouldn’t have had to threaten my own mother’s life to avoid being locked in an adult psych ward at 14.

If you ever think, for one second, that these two things have nothing to do with one another, you are far removed from history.

To hear queer people say “yeah but some mentally ill people are dangerous !” feels like you don’t even know where you come from.

And if I want to say, that me being trans is linked to me being mentally ill, or at least, that both are connected in a way, all hell breaks fucking loose.

So I’ll explain very carefully.

See, when I was young, my mind got shattered into a thousand of pieces I had to try to glue back on. All these pieces of myself broke further more down the line because I couldn’t catch a fucking break. And now, it happens that the final puzzle does not have the same face it had before. It happens that its shape changed over time, for reasons over the control of all of us who tried to build ourselves back. Now there’s a bigger picture, less pieces, a few other shadows, and me. Built from the shatters. With my own needs and afflictions.

And whoever you are, whatever your agenda might be, I will not let anyone take any agency away from me under the false pretext that I can’t know anything for myself. They say that about children, they say that about minorities, about physically disabled people, about the people they want OUT. And my trans siblings, you know that.

I came out for the first time 7 years ago, to my then girlfriend, who was the one asking the question that is the first sentence of this text. I came out a second time 3 years ago. Been on HRT, had top surgery, had psychotic breaks, got my meds changed, switch therapist.

Because I am trans and crazy. And yet, all these choices I made, I made myself. It didn’t have to be that hard to get the basic care I needed. It didn’t need to be. But it WAS. And I’m part of the lucky crowd of people who had access to out-patient treatment, who never have been locked up in ward, who managed to stay alive through meds withdrawals without medical assistance when I had no therapist.

Be very careful of when you start to put conditions on the rights you think you deserve. Be very, very careful about your definition of sanity and of how it warps the way you see people. When you start to say “I have access to that, but there’s people like X or Y who shouldn’t BECAUSE”, pause and ask yourself what led you to think this way. More often than not, you’ll find yourself playing the same mind games as the ones you swore to fight against, and when it gives them the upper hand, they won’t hesitate to come for you after that.

[sixpennydame]

dark side of the moon⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ [chapter 1]

Pairing: yakuza!Levi x f!reader

Word count: 4.6k

Summary:

Neo Tokyo, 2235. You’ve escaped the festering wasteland that is Earth for Mars, to a city where only the strong survive, and everybody has secrets.  Taking on a job as a hostess, you woo the city’s elite, your smile hiding your own dark past. When your path crosses with Levi Ackerman, said to be the strongest member of the Ackerman yakuza clan, you’re not sure whether to consider him a friend or a foe. Because in this city, nothing is what it seems. And the past never stays buried.

Author's note: I will be using Japanese words and phrases periodically and will have a glossary of terms at the end of the chapter.

Series Content/Warnings: mafia/yakuza AU, flashbacks, slow burn, mystery, cyberpunk, sci fi, non-binary Hange Zoe, eventual smut, dark content, graphic violence and sexual content, minors do not interact!

Chapter Content/Warning: mentions of blood, physical assault

next chapter/masterlist/AO3

Blood is thicker than you thought it would be. 

A sea of dark red surrounds you, soaking your clothes and the floor around you. 

Someone’s saying your name, but all you can hear is the thunder of your own heart beat. 

“Hey. Look at me. Do you remember what I promised? That I was never going to let anything bad happen to us again. We swore that we would always be there for each other.

No matter what happens, I promise that I will protect you.

I’ll fix this.”

.

.

.

“Oi you alive? Can you hear me?” A voice said.

You snapped back to reality. Get it together. Don’t fuck this up.

“Sorry…could you repeat that?”

The person in front of you takes off their glasses and cleans them with the edge of their shirt. “I said, you’re obviously not from around here. Where are you from?”

You shift in your chair. You knew that you were going to stand out from the other inhabitants of Neo Tokyo the moment you arrived here.

“I um..I’m from Earth.”

Their eyes go wide. “Earth? That shithole? I didn’t know there were still settlements there. How did you even earn a ticket to get to Mars?” You open your mouth to reply, but they put their hand out. “Don’t answer that - it’s none of my business.”

Obviously your planet of birth has made you intriguing; hopefully intriguing enough that they’ll give you a job. They look you up and down like you were a science experiment. “And why would an Earthling such as yourself want to work here, at Club Azure?”

“I’m a hard worker and a quick learner. And I need to make money fast.”

“Mmmhmmm… you can definitely do that here, if the guests like you,” they smile, “and you certainly would be a unique curiosity.” Brown eyes gleam behind their glasses, “But why do you really want to work here?”

There’s a silence as you think about what to say, but decide you might as well tell the truth. “This line of work doesn’t require me to have Mars citizenship papers.”

“And there it is,” they nod, seeming satisfied with your honesty. “It’s true, we don’t really care about those things here. In return, we expect our employees to be…discreet about our clientelle’s  information and other business that goes on here.”

“I can be discreet.”

“Is that so?” The brunette leans back in their chair and gives you another once-over, their finger tapping their chin. “You’re unique, and there’s a certain something about you… I’m certain the boss is really gonna love you,” they say out loud, more to themself than to you. 

If they aren’t the boss, you wonder who is. 

“Ok, you’re hired.” They reach their hand across the desk and towards you.

A heavy sigh escapes your lips; you hadn’t realized that you’d been holding your breath slightly. Your hand meets theirs and they shake it vigorously. “The name’s Hange Zoe. I run this fine establishment,” they say with pride. “And what should I call you?”

“My name is —“

Hange immediately puts their finger to your lips. “Nuh uh uh, you weren’t about to give me your real name, were you?” They click their tongue. “It’s best that you don't do that. If the authorities come skulking around asking questions, the less I know about you, the better.” 

“Oh…I see.” 

Seems that there’s a lot about this world that you don’t know.

“We need to give you a stage name. Let’s see..” They’re tapping their chin again. “…flower names are always a good choice. What’s your favorite flower?”

“Flower? I’ve never seen one of those before.”

“Oh right..you’re from Earth. It’s been a ruined wasteland for a long time..I guess you wouldn’t have ever seen them. Not that we have them here, either..” Hange stands up from their desk and begins to pace the floor of the small, cramped office. “What are your interests? Any hobbies?”

“I don’t have any hobbies but..” a smile comes to your face, “..on Earth, I loved to look up at the moon.”

“The moon? Hah! That orb is just an exclusive country club for the rich and famous. If your goal is to get there then you have another thing coming.”

You shake your head. “No, nothing like that. But when I was small, me and my si—” you stop. You’re getting too personal. Hange notices, but says nothing. “I mean, I would sit out and look at the moon for hours. I just wanted to escape.”

“And it looks like you’ve done that.” Suddenly Hange’s face brightens. “Luna! That’s what we’ll call you.”

They put their hand on top of your head. “Our little Earthling…let’s get you introduced to the rest of the group and get you dressed for tonight.”

Your eyes go wide. “Wait…I’m starting tonight?”

“Do you have something better to do?” They wait for a reply, to which you give none. “Then follow me.”

You follow Hange through the winding, narrow hall as they open a non-descript door. 

“This is where the girls get changed.” 

They open the door, gesturing for you to enter. Steel lockers are built around the perimeter of the room, with dressing tables and mirrors on the other side. Around you are women in various stages of undress: some have just arrived and are in their street clothes, others are walking around in their underwear, and all of them stop at some point to look you up and down. You knew you were going to stand out when you arrived in Neo Tokyo, but in the cruel, fluorescent lighting, it’s blazingly obvious. Most of the women around you have adorned their bodies with tattoos, the ink under their skin glowing brightly, making some of the images seem to move. Others have augmented their body: shining metallic arms and legs, hair and skin in every color of the rainbow…

All of it is nothing less than extraordinary.

There’s nothing extraordinary about your appearance. Your body doesn’t have a single tattoo or piercing. Your skin, eye, and hair color are ones that you were born with; your ‘human-ness’ is clearly on display for all to see.

“Presenting the hostesses of Club Azure!” The women go about their business as Hange walks you around the room. “You’ll find I’ve curated a diverse group of females who cater to every kind of taste….alien, android, and humanoid. I’m sure you’ll fit right in.”

One woman, putting on makeup, scoffs at the statement. “And just who have you wrangled to work here now, Hange?” She turns around to look at you, her nose scrunching up and her lips turning downward in a judgmental frown. “Or should I say, what..”

“Now, now, Ymir, be nice. Everyone!” Hange claps their hands,  “Luna’s just arrived from Earth and I need you all to play nice and show her the ropes. Historia! Find her a dress that’ll fit and let her shadow you tonight.”

A petite woman with golden, glittering hair and bright, shining blue eyes turns around. White tattoo ink glows under her skin, glittering like diamonds. “Of course.” She takes your hand. “Come with me, Luna.”

She leads you to a locker on the far end of the room and presses in a code. It opens with a clink. “This was Nanaba’s locker. I figure you and she are about the same size.” She pulls out a few items and holds them against your body.

“Was? Did she leave without taking her stuff?”

Historia looks away, biting her bottom lip. Apparently your question hit a nerve. “We’re not really sure, actually. She just…disappeared after work one morning, two weeks ago. We never saw her again.”

“You’re leaving out key information, Historia,” Ymir butts in, “she should have never started fucking that guy in the Ackerman clan. That got her killed, I have no doubt.”

“Ackerman clan?”

“Ymir…hush!” Historia nudges Ymir and attempts to push her away, to no success.

“You mean, Hange didn’t tell you? We are employees of Club Azure, but this club is “protected” by the Ackerman Clan, one of the most powerful yakuza clans in Neo Tokyo. Hange might own the place, but they pull the strings. Getting involved with them is bad news.” She gives you a foreboding look. “If you see them, keep your distance.”

“Are they in here often?”

“Of course they are. They’re always skulking around, checking in on their products.”

Historia clicks her tongue, a warning to Ymir. “They’re not that bad. Just smile, be polite, and pour their drinks and you won’t have any problems with them.” Ignoring Ymir's eye roll, she pulls out a dress and hands it to you. “Here, try this on.”

You start taking your clothes off, and the women around you stop and stare. Ymir laughs, and you notice that each of her teeth have been shaped to a sharp point.

“You’re just as normal as normal can be, aren’t you? Not a single augmentation.” She walks around you as you stand there, naked and bare as their eyes judge you. “All your…parts are…real?” she asks, lifting up your arm.

You pull away and grip the dress closer to you. “Augmentations are rare and expensive on earth.”

Ymir smirks and her carnivorous teeth flash. “Well…everybody has a kink. I’m sure someone will be interested in you.”

“Ymir, that’s enough!” Historia huffs, pushing the tall, freckled woman away. By then, you’ve shimmied into the garment Historia chose for you. The tight, red dress fits your form perfectly, falling off the shoulders and highlighting your collarbone and breasts. It’s long, but a slit cuts all the way up the top of your thigh. You’ve never worn anything so elegant.

Historia looks you up and down. “A little tight, but all the better.” She pulls you over to a dressing table. “Now for the finishing touches.” She takes out some makeup and starts applying powders and creams to your face. “Hange probably wants to keep you as human as possible, so we’ll keep it simple.”

Her version of simple was very different from what you were imagining, as she adorns your cheeks with pink blush and your lips with a dark red lipstick. Your hair cascades in waves across your shoulders.

When you look in the mirror you barely recognize yourself. 

“Is that me?” you ask, touching your radiant skin.

“I just enhanced what you already have. Hopefully, it’ll be good enough.” She stands and gives you another once-over, crossing her arms. “You’re still gonna stand out, but surely someone will be interested in you.”

Ymir walks by and chuckles. “This is gonna be interesting.” You scowl at her while she smiles smugly. “See you two out there,” she says, before sauntering away.

Historia takes you by the hand and leads you down a dark hall. Music is already reverberating through the walls and you can hear voices and laughter amidst the clink of glasses, which amplifies as she opens the door.

The bar is dimly lit, illuminated by a ceiling with an array of twinkling lights meant to look like the night sky. There are tables and booths with plush upholstery, some meant for larger groups while others are more private and intimate. A small stage is set up in the corner with a holographic band playing, and on the opposite end of the room, a long drink bar manned by Hange and another bartender. 

And dispersed throughout are men, some young, some old, but all well-dressed, sitting and drinking with a hostess or two.

“At a hostess bar, it’s not our bodies that are for sale, but our time and attention,” Historia says, leading you through the room. “They can request a certain girl, but otherwise, we are partnered with them as they come in.”

The two of you end up at the bar, where Historia gestures for you to sit. “For the time that they’re here, it’s our job to make the guest feel like they are wanted and important - we laugh at all their stupid jokes, listen to their problems at work or at home, or just help them to get their mind off things with conversation.”

Your eyes dart from table to table, taking note of the hostesses pouring drinks, laughing and leaning into their guests, playing drinking games, or having lively talks. One girl gets up and walks over to the stage, singing as the band plays a popular song that everyone at the table seems to know.

“And that’s it?” you ask. “There’s not…more…that goes on between the guest and the hostess?”

“You mean sex?” Historia leans her chin on her hand. “Hange forbids us having sexual relationships with our guests.” Her eyes dart over to Hange as they put some drinks on a tray. “Isn’t that right?”

“Absolutely correct, my beautiful turtle dove,” they reply. “Prostitution can be procured at other clubs, but not at my fine establishment. You can flirt, make eyes, touch…” their bright eyes suddenly become serious, “but no sex.”

A wave of relief washes over you when you hear this. It’s overwhelming enough to know that you’ll have men ogling you, expecting entertainment and companionship. At least that’s all it’s expected to be. 

While Hange busies themself with making another cocktail, Historia leans toward you and whispers, “It doesn’t mean that it doesn’t happen, though.” 

That doesn’t surprise you; if a hostess’ whole job is to flirt all night long, at some point the lines must get blurred with certain customers. And you can probably make a substantial bit of extra money in taking a relationship beyond the confines of this club. 

But that’s not why you’re here.

Hange pushes a tray of glasses and a bottle of alcohol across the bar to the two of you. “Ok, ladies, it’s showtime. Take these drinks over to table 12.”

Historia glances over to the table before taking the tray. “Ugh, it’s Lovof. Haven’t seen him here for a while.”

“Who’s Lovof?”

“A city councilman. We get a lot of politicians here.” 

The two of you make your way to the table where Lobov is sitting with two other men. You wipe your sweaty palms on your dress, feeling more nervous the closer you get.

“Just smile and pour drinks. I’ll take care of the rest,” Historia whispers, just before making it to the table. “Lobov! It’s been so long, I thought you’d forgotten about us!”

She slides into the booth next to Lobov, a true thing of beauty as she smiles and bats her big, blue eyes. Her skin sparkles even more under the dimmed lighting, making her look like a true angel.

You slide in on the opposite side, sitting next to Lovof’s colleagues, but neither of them pay any attention to you as Historia takes the bottle from its chilled container and pours the golden liquid into a sparkling glass. It’s only until Historia gestures to you that they look your way, a curious look on each of their faces.

“And this is Luna.” Historia’s voice is sweet and soft, matching her angelic persona. “It’s her first night, so I’m showing her how to be a good hostess.”

“Well then, she’s learning from the very best,” Lobov says, his snake-like eyes slinking from Historia to look you over. 

One of the men squints, then takes off his glasses to clean them with his shirt. “This plain-looking thing? Where in the galaxy did you find her?” he comments with a crude chuckle before turning away.

They’re bored with you already.

Get it together.

Don’t fuck this up.

You swallow hard, then take the bottle from Historia and pour a drink for the two unimpressed men.

Smile. Put on the mask.

“The story of why I’m not augmented is quite a tale,” your voice drips with flirtatious intrigue, “but perhaps it’s a tale better left for our second bottle, when I’m a little less nervous.”

The man next to you raises an eyebrow as you raise your glass. “In the meantime, I want to know everything there is to know about you fine gentlemen.” You smile, eyes sparkling in such a way that they almost rival Historia’s. “Kanpai.”

Lovof’s looks of confusion change to amusement as he joins you in raising his glass, the rest reflecting his actions.

“Kanpai!” the table responds.

By the third bottle, everyone is buzzed and relaxed. The alcohol coursing through you is helping you to feel less nervous, and has given you a confidence you’d only pretended to have before. The man next to you, Gelgar, has completely forgotten his other colleagues and is focused solely on you, while the other two are enraptured by Historia.

The attention makes you uncomfortable, everything within you wanting to escape this man’s gaze. But this is your job, you remind yourself. 

You’re not the same person you were on Earth. 

So you mirror your fellow hostess, pouring their drinks and leaning forward as they tell you about an upcoming election. Most of the time you have no idea what they're talking about, but you smile and nod, feigning to be enraptured by their words.

You’re good at pretending. You’ve been doing it your whole life.

There’s a glazed look in the men’s eyes and Historia shoots you a glance that tells you it’s time for them to call it a night. As the two of you escort them out of the bar, Lovof suddenly stops, turning to you.

“My darling, you never told us - why are you not augmented?”

Ah. You forgot you’d mentioned that. 

“Well…” you begin as you’re walking with them out of the club, “...my father was the leader of a cult and my mother was one of his many wives. It was commanded that his children never be augmented, as doing so would be an affront to God, who made the body. No needle or knife must ever blemish my skin.” 

A smile crawls across his face. “Intriguing. Absolutely intriguing…” You feel his eyes rove over your body in a way that feels violating. “I’d like to drink with you again, Luna.”

“She would be honored.,” Historia says, placing her hand on your back and guiding you to bow with her. “Please come visit us again soon.”

You both deeply bow then wave as the trio drunkenly walk to the black vehicle that pulled up for them. Only until they are out of view do you both turn away.

Historia takes your arm. “That story…is it really true?”

“Does it matter?”

Historia lets out an angelic laugh. “I think you’re going to do just fine here.” She walks arm-in-arm with you back into the bar. “You did well for your first time, I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks. I was nervous the entire time.” You allow yourself to smile - the first real smile you’ve had all night.

Historia’s words of praise flow through you as freely as the copious amounts of alcohol you’ve already consumed, both of them giving you courage as you stroll back into your new workplace. 

This isn’t too bad, you think to yourself.

You can do this.

You carry a newfound boldness as you and Historia walk up to Hange, who is waiting at the door. There’s a concerned, serious look in their eyes, much different from the happy, go-lucky persona you’d initially met. 

Hange pulls you both aside. “They’re back, Historia, and causing a ruckus. I’m sorry to do this to you and Luna, but will you two help with damage control for a few minutes while I call for some backup?” They press a small silver button on the back of their ear and walk away, not even waiting for a response.  As if either of you had a choice in the matter. 

You must have been too focused on your table’s patrons to realize the growing noisiness of the table in the center of the club. Now, it’s hard to notice anything else.  

Even from across the room, you can sense the chaotic energy of the group, a stark difference from the customers you’d just said goodbye to. The men are much younger than Lovof and his associates, their tacky suits and bright hair colors a stark contrast to the politicians you’d just entertained. They slap the table and yell curse words at each other, earning sideway glances from the others surrounding them. Empty bottles of alcohol litter their table; one of the men tries to milk the last few drops from one, but when there’s nothing left, he frowns.

“Oi! Another bottle! Make that two!” he curls his lip in disgust as he looks at his comrades slumped around the table. “This place has the shittiest service.”

Your newfound boldness shrinks with each step to their table.

“We just need to get them to settle down and then get them to leave,” Historia whispers, handing you a bottle. “Be polite, but don’t let them manhandle you.”

You put the mask back on, smiling as you and Historia both sit on either side of the booth.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” Historia says, her voice still ringing calm and clear.

An arm immediately wraps around your shoulders the second you sit down, pulling you forcefully into him.

“Look at this - two more! We must be getting the V.I.P. treatment today, boys,” a man with long brown hair and green eyes shouts over the rest of the crowd.

Ever the essence of politeness, Historia pours the alcohol, a superficial smile never leaving her face.

“It’s our honor to serve you here at Club Azure,” is her meek reply. 

The two other hostesses copy Historia, just as you had done earlier, but behind their smiles are eyes that want to escape the situation as soon as possible. Although this is your first night and you still have much to learn, something feels different about this group of men; they are loud and arrogant, and their way of speaking is crude. It’s as if their entire goal is to make everyone uncomfortable. They continue to demand more alcohol and paw at the hostesses, downing bottle after bottle, their appetites insatiable.

All the while, the brunette man continues to clutch at you, his grip tight on your shoulder, keeping you from moving one inch. His suit reeks of alcohol and tobacco, and his breath is even worse when he finally decides to turn and speak to you. 

“I’ve never seen you here before.” 

He’s young, and there’s a wildness in his eyes, warning you to stay on his good side.

You attempt to shift away from him, but his arm is stronger than it looks. So you put on the mask and smile faintly. “I’m new. The name’s Luna.”

Seeming to be the ringleader of the group, you hope that light conversation will keep him preoccupied enough for help to arrive.

Whatever help that may be.

“Lunaaaaa…” he repeats, his tone heavy and foreboding. “You’re a non-aug.” He shifts his attention back to the other men at the table. “Look at this - we got ourselves a non-aug.”

You assume that means you’re not augmented. Will it be an intriguing curiosity, as it was in Lovof’s case? 

Or something far worse?

The men hoot and holler words that you aren’t familiar with, but you don’t need to be fluent in the Martian dialect to know the meanings of their slurs.

The other women look at you, brows knit, bodies frozen, each hesitant to intercede.

“Tell me, Luna,” his green eyes darken, moving down your body and stopping at the bare leg peeking out of the high slit of your dress, “is every part of you real?”

His grip on your shoulder grows even tighter as his free hand moves up your thigh. “Let’s find out, hm?”

Every fiber of your being is screaming to escape this man’s clutches. Your eyes flash to Historia, who attempts to stand up and walk to you, but is forced back down by one of the men. She sends you a helpless expression that even she is powerless to help you.

But you refuse to be powerless. Not ever again.

So you meet the man’s lustful gaze, and slap him hard across the face.

A look of shock sweeps over him, his pride hurt more than the sting in his cheek.

“Don’t you touch me,” comes your warning, willing your body and voice not to shake.

Time freezes for a moment, not a single person moving a muscle, until - 

– the back of his hand cracks against your cheekbone. 

It takes you a few seconds to realize what just happened, but before you can react, he grabs your face with his hand and forces you to look into his eyes.

“Bitch.” He squeezes tighter. “Do you know who I am?”

“Should I?” you manage to reply, despite the forceful grip on your cheeks.

His eyes fill with rage, getting even greener. “Nobody fucks with the Jaeger clan.”

“Oi.”

You hear a voice behind the two of you, cold as steel.

“Did you hear the lady? Hands off.”

You can’t move your head to see who’s talking, but your assailant does. “And who the fuck are you?”

“Someone who’s about to fuck with the Jaeger clan.”

Suddenly a hand grabs the back of the man’s collar and yanks him up, his body flying over the back of the booth and into another table. There are a few screams but then the club goes silent as all eyes watch what’s transpiring. 

Finally free, you look behind you to see a man in a navy blue suit. He walks closer to the other man, who’s scrambling up from the floor. There’s an incredible size difference between the two; this man in the blue suit is much shorter than the men that are now surrounding him, but it doesn’t seem to faze him in the least. 

Green eyes flash and the three other henchmen barrel towards the shorter man. It only takes a few seconds for two of them to be sprawled on the ground, barely conscious. The third grabs the lapels of his dark blue suit, but a hard knee to his groin has him joining his compatriots on the floor. 

“Bastard..” 

Now the only one standing, the brunette moves his hand toward the inner pocket of his jacket.

Something flashes into the hand of the smaller man. It seems to be a knife of some kind.

How did it appear so quickly?

“You pull out that piece and it’ll be the last thing your hand ever does,” the shorter man warns, his eyes laser-focused.

The other three men scurry off the floor and towards the club’s exit, but not before one of them grabs his friend by the shoulder. “Come on Eren, let’s get out of here. Your brother’s gonna kill us if this gets worse.”

The tall brunette man smirks then backs away with his hands up, keeping his eyes on the man in front of him.

“This isn’t over.” His eyes then flit to you as he straightens his suit jacket. “Fucking bitch,” he spits, before turning to leave.

It’s as if the whole club takes a collective sigh once the four men are finally gone. Historia is immediately at your side.

“Oh my god, Luna, are you alright? I’m so sorry..”

You can hear her words and feel her gentle hands touching your face, but all your attention is on the man standing before you. He buttons his suit jacket and runs his fingers through his hair, pushing back the few strands that came loose during the scuffle.

“Thank you so much, um…” your words hang in the air, waiting for a name.

His steel blue eyes look into yours - not at your body, not at the bruise you’re sure is growing by the second - but deep into your eyes, before looking away. 

It’s the first time you’ve felt someone look at you like you’re a person, not some oddity.

“Levi,” he finally answers in a low, cool voice. “And don’t thank me for doing my job.”

Before you can say more, he’s turned his back, disappearing into the darkness of the club. 

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Glossary of terms:

Yakuza - Japanese mafia

Kanpai - cheers!

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

next chapter/masterlist/AO3

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[tadpolesonalgae]

Piercings[*]

Poly!Batboys x reader

a/n: I realised you probably would have specified poly batboys if you wanted them all together rather than individually but I was feeling a little feral (and also a little tired, I’ll admit it) so I’ve written it as all of them together 🧡💛 — also we’re saying that with fae healing she only needed a week to be sorted and safe from infection

warning: piercings, slight nipple play, poly batboys

word count: 1,270

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Teeth tug at the interior of your lip as you walk into the sitting room, finding all three of them contained within the cozy chamber. 

Three sets of eyes raise when you enter, sensing you have something to say. You shift anxiously on your feet. “Hi…” you begin, toes curling in your socks, a spark of nerves glistening beneath your skin, pulse spiking in your throat—one they can almost certainly pick out. 

It’s Rhys who takes the lead as the closest to where you are, lowering his book and setting it down, open, over one arm of the sofa, Cassian watching intently from the other end, ankle crossed over his thigh. “You look…nervous,” Rhys muses, violet eyes gleaming with satisfaction when you shift, fingers clutching the hem of your thick, purple jumper. “Did something happen?” 

Your lips part to speak, but a rush of nerves has you second guessing yourself, averting your gaze to the floor, heart pounding. “I have…” Fuck, you’re nervous. You swallow. Look back at them. “I have something to tell you…?” 

Rhys’ lips tug upward at their corners, interest sparking in Cassian’s hazel eyes, a neutral but attentive expression from Azriel. You ease in a small breath—you know them; they won’t be angry with you. You just need to show them. It’s easy to admit you’re far more scared of the attention they’ll give you rather than potential disappointment. They’re feral enough if they so much as catch a glimpse of a new set of underwear they’ll be dragging you to their bedroom, pinning you to their mattress, so this…you swallow again. Maybe it was a stupid idea. But they’re going to find out eventually. It’s already been a week, after all. 

“Maybe it would be better if I showed you,” you mumble under your breath, fingers tugging at the deep purple wool, the knit stretching as you lift it to reveal the lacy white camisole underneath—sheer enough for the metal bars to be visible as they push against the soft, creamy fabric. 

Cassian’s book slips from his grip, thudding on the floor. Pages fluttering. 

You bite the interior of your lip, folding the jumper over your arm so your have something to do with your hands. “They’ve finished healing now…” You tell them, glancing down at the individual stitches that make up the purple knitwear, picking out how the yarn wraps around itself to form a repeating pattern. 

“Come here.” Rhys’s voice is deeper; rougher. Strained, as he calls you over. 

“Why…” you ask, a note of warning in your voice, raising a brow. This is exactly what you were worried about. “I’m only telling you so you know. They’re still—”

“That was an order, princess,” Azriel murmurs from the other sofa, tension underlying the rigidity of his wings, hazel eyes piercing in on you like you’re a rabbit that’s about to turn on her fluffy tail and frantically try to hop away. 

Half reluctantly, you step closer to Rhys’ side, fingers fiddling with the jumper to try and keep your nerves soothed. 

Violet eyes look up at you, and you force yourself to remain still as he grips your hip, a sure enough sign you won’t be leaving without their permission. “Is this why you’ve been hiding yourself from us?” He inquires, and you nod. “And you’re saying they’re healed now? Properly healed?” His thumb swipes across the bone of your hip, your every sense keyed to his touch. You feel like you could get lost in his eyes. So strangely hypnotising. Like they’re luring you in. 

His lips tug upward, and then you’re being tugged forward, landing perfectly in his lap under his guidance. You squeak, squirming beneath his touch, trying to shift out of his lap—you knew this would happen. “Rhys, hold on,” you try, gripping onto his wrists as his palms splay across your stomach leisurely, fingers crawling beneath the hem of your close-fitting camisole. “Wait, they’re…” 

“What?” Rhys drawls, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “Tell us what they are, darling.” 

“…they’re sensitive.” 

The pads of his fingers stutter briefly over your skin, before his lips are curving into a grin. “How perfect.” 

“Rhys, please…” you murmur, trying to glance at him. 

“Please what?” 

“Be careful?” You request, shifting in his lap. Shaky fingers lightly wrapping around his wrist. 

He hums, attention flicking to his brothers. “Should we?” 

“Rhysand!” You exclaim, trying to turn to look at him, but his grip tightens on you punishingly, reminding you to keep still. 

“Try her out first,” Azriel muses, drawing your attention, hazel eyes boring into you—hot, hungry, and adoring. It gives you a little reassurance, at least. “You’re supposed to be on my side, Az,” you mumble, a little betrayed he isn’t advocating for your release. “When you’re wearing pretty things like that? I think not,” he drawls, a hint of affection in his expression. “Besides, you know very well you aren’t permitted to keep secrets from us.” 

“I wanted it to be a surprise…” you mumble, flushing. 

“I think it’s safe to say we’re surprised, sweetheart,” Cassian drawls, “but a secret is still a secret.” 

“Cass…” 

“Do you disagree?” 

You open your mouth to do just that, but instead a startled sound squeaks from your lips, Rhys’s fingers brushing lightly over the peaks of your nipples. You gasp, trying to grapple with him to get his hands away but you can hardly manage to make him budge as he circles your breasts through the thin fabric. 

“I didn’t want you to have to wait while knowing about them,” you try, cheeks heating as thoughts begin to melt away. “Wouldn’t it have been worse if I had told you?” 

“A rule is a rule, darling.” 

“But Rhys…Rhys!” You gasp as he pulls your top away entirely, and you can practically feel their attention on your breasts. The pretty bars adorning your nipples. 

“How sensitive are they?” Azriel asks, but it’s worryingly not directed at you. 

“Let’s see…” 

A panting moan spills suddenly from your lips, breaths fluttering as Rhys brings his thumbs to lightly drag across the sensitive peaks. You squirm in his lap, nonsensical pleas whispering from your mouth as you try to squeeze your legs together, heat simmering violently and you’re worried how severely they’ll exploit this for their advantage. 

“Pretty sensitive,” Cassian drawls, and you exhale deep breaths of relief when Rhys’ fingers cease their stimulation, already practically trembling in his lap. “I suppose I can see why she wanted to keep these secret, knowing us,” he remarks, your lower lip wobbling at the comment. He grins, and your hairs rise. 

“I have different ones,” you say, trying to halt Rhys’s fingers, trying to figure a way out of his hold. “I got ones with different colours…let me show you.” Rhys laughs beside your ear, breath fanning down the side of your throat, making you shiver. “Darling, that won’t work. You’re staying with us until we decide you’ve had enough.” 

“But that can take hours…” 

“And it’ll take days if you don’t stop whining,” he counters, grazing his thumb across your nipple. “I’m sure between the three of us, we could make it last much longer.”

You squeak as shadows wrap around your ankles, wrapping around your calf, up your knee, lacing around your thighs, pulling them further apart. 

“And if we have to correct your behaviour one more time…” Azriel warns, your skin prickling at the low, raspy tone. Toes curling. Shadows creeping higher.

He doesn’t have to finish that sentence for you to understand the meaning. 

——————————————————————————————————————————————

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[connabeth]

rick really woke up and said "what if i give the people what they want for once" and gave us grumpy black cat introvert percy and sunshine golden retriever extrovert annabeth we never knew we needed

also no one's talking about how percy made friends with annabeth's college's security guard (Florence or smthn?) so he's the only one allowed to walk in her campus anytime?

also I found a typo in the third chapter where dave was accidentally called paul which I found really funny

1) i’m glad this series is doing justice to annabeth’s personality because she spent so much of pjo & hoo caught in an inner turmoil of hurt and uncertainty and self-loathing and insecurity and fear given the circumstances of luke’s betrayal and percy’s imminent death. in spite of it all, she was still a bastion of hope and light throughout those books, but she deserves to be silly and unburdened by the weight of the world now that she has percy back and there’s no big prophecy (unresolved trauma aside). i think, in her mind, even though new, crazy things keep being thrown at them and she most certainly deals with a latent fear of losing percy at any moment, she’s resolute and confident that they can overcome anything that gets in their way of their dream of going to college and finding peace together because she feels that invigorated and wants it that bad. even if greco-egyptian gods or a triple goddess or a mortal apollo pop up throughout their senior year. i feel like she’s giving herself the freedom to just let go, breathe, be sure everything will be okay in the end, and just be excited about things without drowning in worry for once, which i love. she deserves to feel that childlike enthusiasm she was deprived of for so long. her confidence that they’ll be okay extends to percy being able to complete all his classwork and applications, which in turn reinforces his determination.

2) as for percy, he’s definitely the more outwardly insecure out of the two, mainly because of how his academic prowess pales in comparison to hers and the fact that he feels he doesn’t deserve her and she’s way better than him. percy thinking her SODNYC friends perceive him in the same critical light obviously isn’t helping. it’s evident in the way he’s amazed when he looks at her, disbelieving for a second that she’s his girlfriend, and how he observes her interaction with others more similar to her, feeling like an outsider who can’t understand that part of her brain the way her friends can. it’s even more abundantly clear when he believes “She would always succeed whether I was around or not,” which in theory is a sweet sentiment to have about your very capable girlfriend, but academic and social success aside, she needs him as much as he needs her and she’d see no point in being in california without him. but his insecurities and easy jealousy prevent him from fully understanding this even if he innately knows it’s a universal truth that they’re meant to be together. however, all this being said, percy’s characterization in wottg so far is a little…weird. in order for you to literally pee your pants, something must scare you or catch you off guard really, really bad. so while it makes sense for him to fear a powerful goddess, wetting his boxers seems like an extreme reaction. i know rick was probably just trying to insert immature humor, but the implications are not what he was going for considering this is the boy who didn’t have that reaction staring down titans and giants and nyx and tartarus himself. so forgive me if i think it’s a little insane that percy having such a visceral reaction to a goddess 13 year old hazel fared well against is out of character, even after taking into consideration his fear of not receiving and completing the remaining quests on time. it makes sense for him to be nervous and on edge, given the quiet of the past month, but that amount of fear towards a deity who’s not the most scary thing he’s faced down is an interesting choice since rick isn’t known for realistic depictions of PTSD and that likely isn’t the intention here. it’s also curious how it’s implied even a goddess as primordial as aphrodite caves in to hecate…

3) florence is the goat and i love percy making random friends to help his cause. he doesn’t go out of his way to befriend others in the mortal world unless they approach him first or there’s an opportunity there. and the fact that annabeth can a casually ask her friend to cover for her being gone from her dorm for several days makes me think this is far from the first time she’s snuck out for prolonged periods of time👀

4) this is an INSANE typo to have in a book because clearly not a single person proofread it and it doesn’t surprise me that it got past rick, but becky and several rounds of editors and everyone else in his circle who’s read the book not picking up on it prior to publication is wild. rick is too eager to have his self-insert be everywhere and it shows💀

[akaridream]

all the right buttons: part 2 GOKU (college AU goku x reader)

alright goku fuckers, come get y'all juice

and don't worry geta lovers, you'll get yours soon too

You stared at the coin in your hand, anxiously rubbing your thumb over it. The only way to discover your true feelings was to flip it. Heads for Goku, tails for Vegeta.

The coin sailed through the air. You captured it between your palms and flipped it onto the back of one hand. Eyes opening, you lifted your hand. Heads.

YOU: ummm i guess i felt like i had a slightly better connection with goku?

You climbed into bed and laid in the darkness, wiggling your toes impatiently between your bed sheets. Your stomach floated nervously within you, waiting for her response. What if your guess was wrong? Would you be disappointed if it was Vegeta? No, certainly not disappointed. But there would be at least a tinge of FOMO in your heart at the thought of missing out on Goku. He seemed so sweet and easy to get along with. But perhaps he was just a nice guy with everyone and you were nothing special to him. Whatever the case, you jolted when your phone finally buzzed with Bulma’s reply.

BULMA: as soon as you left, goku said you were cool and that you should come over again soon :) and he said you were really pretty An automatic smile spread across your face and you kicked your feet up with a delighted squeal.

YOU: omg i’ll come over right now if he wants haha

BULMA: easy tiger :) i gave him your number and told him to hit you up, so hopefully you’ll be hearing from him v soon

YOU: did you tell him anything I said about him? Did you put in a good word for me?

BULMA: I told him you’re super sweet and lots of fun to be around, but he was already kinda smitten and didnt need much encouragement. it was actually really cute

Your cheeks were starting to hurt from all the smiling. Then your phone buzzed again.

Unknown Number: hey, it’s goku! i got your number from bulma, i hope thats alright

You stomped your feet on the bed, pleasantly surprised that he was texting you already. This guy doesn’t play games!

YOU: omg hey! ofc thats okay! I know I can trust bulma not to give my number to creeps. I had a great time playing with you today!

GOKU: yeah me too! I’ll have to dig out some other games we can play together sometime

YOU: I’m absolutely down for another game sesh! Wish I still had all my old games, I’d bring some

GOKU: just bring yourself and I’m sure we can find something to play! theres actually an old tenkaichi tournament movie, we could try and find it somewhere and watch it

YOU: ive heard its actually a horrible movie! but that isn’t gonna stop me, i love making fun of bad movies

GOKU: haha cool! Vegeta and I always go to the gym friday afternoons, but I’m free after 5 or so. We could order some food and just hang out here

Wow, he really doesn’t beat around the bush! Straight to asking me to hang out already?

YOU: that sounds great! And will your roommates be joining us?

GOKU: they’ll probably be around. But i was kind of hoping it might just be you and me

YOU: i think i’d like that :) so it’s a date then?

GOKU: yeah, if that’s okay with you

YOU: definitely okay with me! I can bring some drinks if you want

GOKU: yeah sure! You like chinese takeout? Theres an awesome place just off campus I order from all the time, they give you sooo much food

YOU: yeah, that sounds great to me. I’m sure you need big portions, you’re a growing boy after all!

For the rest of the week, you texted Goku without the conversation coming to a natural end. As midday turned into Friday afternoon, an anxious, fluttery feeling flooded your stomach. What should you wear? What should you do with your hair? What about makeup? In the end, you opted for a pair of high-waisted jean shorts, a cute camisole with lace trim and an oversized cozy cardigan that kept falling off your shoulder. The peek of skin would be enticing, if he was interested in hooking up of course. And you certainly weren’t against that idea. Since the day you met him, you had been thinking about climbing all over him, especially right into his lap…

You put your hair up into a clip and dotted your cheeks and lips with a soft glow. After a touch of mascara, you admired yourself in your full length mirror. Scrubbed, shaved and smelling lightly of perfume, you felt confident in your natural beauty. Your heart danced in your chest when your phone buzzed with a text from Goku, saying to come over whenever you were ready. You grabbed the case of chilled vodka soda from your dorm fridge and headed across campus.

By the time you arrived at Bulma and Goku’s front door, your cheeks were aching from smiling so much. Your heart still twirling like a ballerina, you knocked and awaited your date’s appearance.

The door swung open, revealing Goku in a tight black tee and another pair of short shorts in bright orange. He grinned and adjusted his glasses on his nose.

“Hey! Good to see ya!” he said, giving you a brief but warm hug as you stepped over the threshold. Your arms snaked around his thin waist, pleasantly aware of having his hard body flush against yours.

“Good to see you again too, Goku! How was your workout?” you asked as he led you into the kitchen.

“Great! Vegeta hit a PR on bench today, so that was cool!”

You tilted your head as he took the case of vodka soda from you and put it in the fridge. “What’s a PR?”

He blinked. “Oh! Personal record. Sorry, I forgot you aren’t a gym rat like me,” he said, shyly scratching the back of his neck. “Oh, Bulma left this for us by the way.” Goku tapped a knuckle on a bottle of white wine with a fancy label.

“Oh my gosh, that looks expensive!” you said as you examined it. “But what a sweetheart she is! I’ll have to tell her thank you!”

Goku led you to the living room where the game console and old TV had been shoved to the corner and Bulma’s fancy flat screen once again dominated the space. A new coffee table sat in front of the couch as well.

“She’s been busting my balls all week about you,” he said with a shy chuckle as he plopped onto the couch.

“Oh yeah?” you asked in a teasing voice. “What about me?” A warm blush started to overtake Goku’s cheeks. He smiled and shrugged. “Just that she’s happy to see me take interest in someone, I guess. Apparently she thinks its about time!”

You sat on the couch and propped your arm over the back, turned to face Goku. “Has it been a while since you dated someone then?”

He nodded. “Yeah, since high school. I had a long term thing with this one girl but it didn’t end so great. She was a bit of a hot-head. But since her… I haven’t even been on a date. Just been trying to sort my own stuff out, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it. I’m not the most experienced with relationships either. Shit’s complicated,” you laughed.

Goku smiled. “Yeah, you’re telling me!” His phone buzzed. “Alright, dinner’s here! Be right back!” His eyes grew wide with excitement and he raced out the door before you could even reply. He came back just as quick and unloaded a surprising amount of food onto the coffee table.

“Are you sure you ordered enough?” you asked sarcastically.

Goku furrowed his brows and looked over the selection of takeout containers. “Well, I thought five entrees might be enough, but I’ll be happy to order more if you want!”

You laughed and opened a pair of chopsticks. “I was kidding! This looks like enough to feed my entire family back home!”

His frown quickly inverted and he grinned. “Oh, okay, good! Should we break out what you brought to drink or try Bulma’s fancy wine?”

“Let’s have the wine with the movie, I think,” you suggested, padding over to the fridge and grabbed a drink for each of you.

Per usual with Goku, conversation was steady and comfy. You chatted and laughed as you sat on the floor across the coffee table from each other, both of your cell phones sitting untouched. “Is this table new?” you asked.

Goku nodded as he scarfed down some lo mein. “Yeah, Bulma bought a new one because Vegeta and I kind of broke the last one.” You sputtered a laugh. “How on earth did you manage to break a coffee table?”

“Well, we were just kind of goofing around and Vegeta slipped and… Fell right through it! It was all glass, he complained about it being invisible all the time anyway. Bulma is convinced he did it on purpose because he hated it!”

You covered your mouth full of food and laughed heartily. “That is hilarious! But what the hell do you mean you were just goofing around?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, just… Goofin’ off like guys do?”

“Sounds just like my brothers,” you said, shaking your head.

You finished your meal, with Goku eating the lion’s share of the food. You didn’t mind, he clearly required more calories than you did. As he was clearing away all the takeout containers, you watched him in the kitchen from behind. His wide shoulders and slutty waist made your head feel light. Or was it the vodka soda?

“You ready to bust out this bottle of wine?” he called over his shoulder.

Your eyes grazed over his silhouette, admiring his stellar ass in those tiny shorts. “Sure, let’s do it!”

Goku rummaged around in the kitchen drawers. “Crap, I have no idea where to find a corkscrew.”

You rose from your place on the living room floor to help him look. “Well I sure hope you at least know how to use one, because I sure don’t! I only ever buy the cheap wine with the screw top.”

Goku bumped into you, then placed a hand on your hip to navigate around you in the kitchen. You blushed at the contact.

“Bulma’s not here, is she?” you asked. “We could ask her if she knows where it is.”

“No, she said she was heading back to West City to see her parents this weekend. And Vegeta said he’d be out late tonight.”

Way at the back of a stuck drawer, you felt a spiral shape. You turned and twisted it until the drawer could move again, finally able to extract the object. You held it up with a bright smile.

“Ta-da!” you said.

“Hey, nice!” Goku said, giving you a high-five. He took the corkscrew and carefully opened the fancy bottle to pour you both a glass.

You returned to the living room with two stemless crystal glasses as Goku made a quick trip to his bedroom.

“The library had the Tenkaichi movie on DVD!” he called down the hall as he returned. You sat on the edge in the middle of the couch, watching him lean over to load the DVD into the player. Those damn shorts are giving me heart palpitations, you thought. His body is godly.

Cheeks growing warmer by the second, you slid your cardigan off one shoulder for some much-needed cool air. You caught Goku’s eyes taking you in as he turned around, peeking at him over the rim of your wine glass.

“How’s it taste?” Goku asked, his voice quiet and soft.

You raised the crystal and gave it a swirl before taking a sip. You closed your eyes and breathed through your nose as you swallowed the aromatic liquid, a trail of pleasant warmth growing in your chest.

“Expensive,” you said. You both laughed.

Goku grabbed the remote and sat on your right, his left arm automatically fanning over the back of the couch cushion. Once he started the movie, he exchanged the remote for his glass of wine, taking a sizable swig.

“Hm, it’s sweeter than I expected. The last time I tried wine, I felt like it sucked all the moisture out of my mouth,” Goku said.

You took another sip. “Yeah, this one is nice and mild. I could drink the whole bottle of this,” you said, your head starting to feel pleasantly heavy.

Eager to move closer to your date, you sat back into the couch and tucked your feet up, leaning onto your hip. There was still space between the two of you, but it was Goku’s turn to come to you next.

The movie began with a vibrant action scene, filling the dark room with bright flashes of light. After draining half of his glass, Goku leaned forward and placed it on the coffee table. When he leaned back, he closed the small gap between you, nestling your shoulder under his wing on the back of the couch. A rush filled you immediately, and you happily leaned your weight into his firm torso. At that, Goku moved his arm from the couch cushion to rest across your shoulders. Another pleasing rush of adrenaline raced through you. You licked your lips and sipped on the wine.

“This okay?” he said, barely above a whisper.

You gave a smile and warm mm-hmm before placing your glass on the table and snuggling up to him even more. His thighs spread slightly, making his leg press into yours. Like chess opponents trading moves, you thought about what your next move should be. Your mind flashed back to the last time you saw Goku. That blue tank top had shown off his pecs just right…

Biting your lip, you leaned your head over to rest your burning cheek against his chest. With your ear pressed to him, you could hear his heart beating wildly. The excitement of snuggling up with such a handsome guy was not lost on you, as your heart was purring like an engine. His pecs really did make for a great pillow.

Goku began brushing his fingers softly over your exposed shoulder. You sighed happily and relaxed into his touch.

“You’re comfy,” you said as you worked your arms around his waist. He leaned back, pulling you into him even more.

“Thanks,” he chuckled. “You’re cute.”

“Thanks,” you breathed, heart leaping at the compliment.

As the movie progressed, you paid less attention to it and more to every fiber of Goku’s body. After polishing off your glasses of wine and feeling delightfully buzzed, you curled up even further into him, feet tucked up and thighs falling over onto his. Your head also migrated from resting atop his muscular chest to nuzzling into his neck. All it would take would be a subtle movement to start kissing his neck…

It took a while to muster the courage to make such a bold move. It was only your first date after all. Perhaps this was moving too fast. But he really did seem into you. And you were undoubtedly into him. While gently petting your hand over his chest, you parted your lips, and allowed a steamy breath to escape and tickle his neck. His heart began to drum hard enough for you to feel. You let your lips touch his skin with a feather-light press. Goku’s dark eyes slid closed with your next kiss, the fullness of your gorgeous mouth lighting up each nerve along his neck. You gave a gentle suck to it, causing a sweet sigh to fall from his lips. You trailed your hand up to hold the opposite side of his neck as your tongue began to tease him with tiny kitten licks, then bold circles.

Goku’s hand went from your shoulder to the back of your head, guiding you. You felt his pulse pound as you kissed him. His other hand found your wrist and squeezed.

“Hah,” he breathed. “Need to kiss you.”

You pulled back enough to look at his handsome face. His cheeks were pleasantly pink and his eyes were dazed and dreamy behind his frames. He took your chin with one hand and brought your mouth up to his, finally letting your hot breaths intermingle before he sweetly caressed your lips with his own. Goku’s tongue softly brushed over your lip, silently pleading for yours. You obliged and his tongue invaded to massage yours. Every movement was slow and sensual, tender yet incredibly erotic.

While shifting yourself to face Goku more fully, your leg brushed past something hard, and you were certain it wasn’t just his meaty thighs. Your core heated and revved like a racecar. Unable to keep them suppressed, sighs and heavy breaths from Goku encouraged you to continue kissing.

“W-wait,” Goku said, pulling away slightly. “You aren’t too drunk for this, are you?”

You pulled back further and looked at him, his black eyes full of concern. Your heart clenched. What a sweetheart!

“No,” you giggled, pulling his glasses off and placing them next to your empty wine glasses. “I may be a bit buzzed, but I’m fully aware of what I’m doing. And I don’t intend to stop.”

With that, you climbed over Goku to straddle his lap. Without the black frames, his eyes shone with gentleness, and lust. Using his shoulders for support, you adjusted yourself atop his lap until you found exactly what you were looking for. His lips fell open with a sharp, breathy groan.

“This okay?” you asked as you returned your mouth to his.

Goku kissed you between heated breaths as he gripped your thighs. “Hahh, yeah. Definitely.”

You shrugged off your cardigan and tossed it aside as you made out. One of your hands worked into Goku’s wild hair as his hands wandered up to your hips. He pulled you towards him, chest to chest, and your tight jean shorts gave you both a taste of delicious friction. That made him shove his tongue messily down your throat, like he was slowly fucking your mouth. You whined, grinding your hips down. He responded with a tight squeeze to your ass.

“I’ve… I’ve never really done this whole hooking up thing before,” he admitted.

You scratched his scalp lightly, making his eyes flutter in pleasure. “We don’t have to go any further.”

“But that’s the problem,” he said, kissing your throat. “I don’t wanna stop. You’re really hot and I don’t know if I can control myself.”

You giggled as his lips trailed down to your collarbone, sweet sensations filling you from head to core. “Then by all means, continue.”

“You gotta tell me if you wanna stop, or if I go too far.” He slid the strap of your cami and kissed your shoulder.

“Okay. And you do, too,” you breathed as his fingers softly traced your arm.

Just the touch of his hands was enough to make your eyes fall closed in bliss, and you wanted his big hands all over you. Under your shirt, on your waist, in your shorts…

“Can’t believe you aren’t bringing girls back every night. You’re so fucking hot,” you said as he sucked on your pulse point.

He smirked and took your cheek in in his palm. “I’m not a fuck boy. I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.” He gave you the most saccharine kiss yet, making you melt completely in his lap. “Which reminds me…” He pulled back slightly to look you in the eyes. “This… Isn’t just gonna be a one time thing, is it? Because I really do like you, and I want to get to know you.”

You smiled and put your hands on his gorgeous chest. “I like you too, Goku. And I’d love to get to know you better, and make out with you more, too.”

He gave a glowing smile and endearing chuckle. If he were any cuter, you feared your heart may burst. “Yeah, I really like kissing you. Like, a lot.”

And so you did just that. Desperate yet tender, Goku’s tongue reconnected with yours as your hips began to roll against his. Those shorts of his were blessedly thin, and your tight denim put pressure right on your sweet spot.

“Mm, touch me more,” you pleaded.

“Where?” he whispered.

“Anywhere. Everywhere.”

You took Goku’s lower lip between your teeth as his big hands roamed freely. His thumbs brushed the undersides of your breasts, then boldly over the fullness of them just as your hips hitched against his stiff cock print. A moan ripped from your throat.

You gripped the back of the couch on either side of Goku’s head and started working your hips into a rhythm. It was agonizingly slow for him, just enough stimulation to tease and make him want more. Foreheads sealed together, mouths exchanging breaths, you humped his lap as he tenderly squeezed your tits.

“Can you go faster?” he asked, a desperate tremble to his voice. You grinned and did as he asked while bringing your chest close to his face. He pressed your breasts together and kissed the tops of them, slightly pulling down the top of your camisole. You slid the straps off your shoulders and pulled the shirt down to expose your tits to him. Goku’s eyes shone brightly as they drank you in. “Fuck. You’re perfect,” he praised, circling his thumbs over your nipples.

“Use your mouth.”

He obeyed immediately, placing delicate kisses over one while softly pinching the other. You sighed and rewarded him by continuing to hump him. But he teased you, only lightly lapping your nipple with his sweet tongue.

“Mm, harder,” you whined.

Goku proved to be pleasantly obedient, taking your directions well. He sucked and pulled back to let your tit bounce, then sought your eyes for approval. You groaned in pleasure and mussed his hair, forcing his head back to your chest. One of his large hands supported your upper back, the other smearing saliva over your pert nipple. The telltale tingle between your thighs was beginning to grow steadily. Based on the way he was whining and bucking underneath you, Goku was feeling good, too.

“Damnit, please don’t make me ruin these shorts by cumming in them,” he begged.

You slowed your pace and lifted Goku’s chin. “Where do you want to cum then?”

His pupils wide in awe, he failed to form any coherent words. “I… Well, wha…”

“Aw, did I make you dumb already, big boy?” you patronized.

“I was never that smart to begin with.” His expression was dreamy and he stared up at you like you were a goddess.

You giggled and stood up. “Why don’t you let me finish you off?”

You got on your knees between his, your breasts still exposed and holding his attention. Your soft hands rubbed up his sculpted thighs, sneaking under the hem of his shorts. His eyes met yours as you palmed his aching cock. His perfectly kissable lips hung open as you teased him, and his throaty little moans each sent a pulse straight to your pussy.

As you pulled at the waistband of his shorts, you saw two wet spots of precum had soaked through, a sign of a job well done by you. Goku lifted his hips and pulled down the obstruction to reveal his gloriously sized dick. You almost growled at the sight, feral with desire.

“Holy shit,” you said, eyes devouring the perfect specimen before you. The tip was fat and shiny, begging for your lips to wrap around it. “This still okay?”

He blew a puff of air through his nose. “Of course.”

You wrapped your index finger and thumb around his thick cock, teasing up and down his shaft slowly. He tried to strangle his moan in his throat. You met his eyes as he reclined and you lightly pressed a kiss to his tip, then trailed more kisses down one side of his length. You never would have guessed he could made such sinful sounds from his candy-sweet personality, but each noise weakened you. Eye contact still unbroken, your lips finally enveloped his cockhead, then pulled off with an obscene slurp. One hand on his shaft and the other squeezing his thigh, you circled your tongue around Goku’s beautiful cock. Worshipping it with your mouth and hearing his vocal approval made you clench your leg muscles, stimulating yourself.

“Decided where you wanna cum yet?” you asked as you licked up the underside, making him shudder.

“Ahh… I’m really not picky,” he chuckled.

With that, you started sucked him off with purpose and vigor, eager to hear his whines of pleasure. Your saliva dripped down, making a mess of him as your hand twisted and pulled. You kept constant pressure and pleasure on him, making his moans pitch up. They came in short, desperate bursts and you finally dove deep, taking his entire length down your throat in one swift motion. As you lifted to dive down again, Goku gripped the arm of the couch with one hand and guided your head with the other. While his touch was light on you, you feared his intense strength might rip the upholstery of the poor couch.

“Ahh, almost there!” Goku cried, hips beginning to twitch.

End in sight, you watched his face as you sucked him. A few final strokes and one beastly growl had him shooting hot strings down your throat. His brows knit together tightly, mouth hanging open, head tossing. He writhed in pleasure as you slowed, swallowing every drop he offered you. And it was a lot. You swallowed at least three times, taking more cum each time. Even when your mouth left him, tiny beads formed at the slit of his cock. You smeared them with you thumb, then licked him clean.

“Hope you didn’t mind that I decided for you,” you panted, proud of your hard work.

Goku slumped on the couch wearing a dazed expression. “I can barely move. Damn,” he said with a soft chuckle. “But what can I do for you now?”

Just as a grin started to form, the sound of someone unlocking the front door jolted you both out of your haze. Your eyes grew wide.

“Vegeta’s back already?” Goku whispered, frantically stuffing himself back inside his shorts as you fixed your shirt. You stood quickly enough to make your head spin and grabbed your empty wine glasses to busy yourself. Just as you made it to the kitchen to wash the glasses (and your hand covered in spit and cum), Vegeta shoved his way through the front door. You gave him a soapy-handed wave.

“Hey Vegeta,” you said, hoping he wouldn’t take a long enough look at you to notice your flushed face, neck, and chest. Thankfully, he just gave you a grunt in reply.

“You’re back early,” Goku said, a lilt in his voice.

“Not really,” Vegeta grumbled, barely giving Goku a glance as he passed. His bedroom door shut with a stern thud.

“Sounds like he had a bad day,” you mused.

Goku stood from the couch and replaced his eyeglasses. “Well, yeah. He’s jealous that you picked me over him.”

Your heart screeched to a halt. “Wait. What are you talking about?”

He tilted his head and padded over to you at the sink. “Bulma said that you said you had a better connection with me.”

Your cheeks began to burn. “She told you I said that? But she said one of you asked about me! She told me to guess which one! I couldn’t decide which of you I liked better, so she… That Bulma!” You dried your hands and tossed the dish towel onto the counter, pouting that Bulma had tricked you into making a decision. “Wait, so neither one of you actually asked her about me?”

Goku smiled warmly. “Actually, we both did. As soon as Vegeta got back from his lab, we had an argument about which one of us was gonna get to ask you out. Bulma overheard us and told us she’d figure out who you liked better!”

“But I just flipped a coin! Literally, I couldn’t decide!” you laughed.

“You did? So you didn’t really pick me at all, did you?” Goku asked, looking like a kicked puppy.

You stood on your toes and reached your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a sensual kiss.

“Fate picked you for me. And for the record, I’m really, really glad it was you, Goku.” His hands held your waist as he returned your kiss. When you pulled back, his sugary smile had renewed completely and his eyes sparkled with affection.

“Me too.”

tags: @artof-aristocracy @ghostlylovesstuff

[deadlysoupy]

DATV banter if my Rook (Urchin) was a companion 1 / >> 2 << / ?

Neve: You’re jittery in Dock Town. What’s got you worried?

Rook: Isn’t everyone jittery in Dock Town? I’m surprised no one stole your leg while you were walking.

Neve: You’re dodging my question.

Rook: If I said it was the smell, would you accept that?

Neve: Hm. All right, good enough.

Rook: Oh, no. I told you too much, didn’t I? You’re already theorising.

Neve: (laughs) Perhaps.

~~

Neve: Rook, I beg of you, please stop poking fun at our enemies. One insult can cost you your life, some day.

Rook: Hey, they already hate us. What’s the point in holding back?

Neve: The point is that you infuriate them even more. You’re drawing attention to yourself.

Rook: I think that’s the idea.

Neve: Just… (sighs) Be careful, okay? Step on the wrong people’s toes…

Rook: Don’t worry. If I do step on their toes, they’ll know not to mess with someone who has this many friends.

Neve: I’m amazed and scared of your confidence.

~~

Lucanis: You would have been a good assassin, Rook.

Rook: Eh, too much work. And the blood is so difficult to wash off.

Lucanis: That’s why we wear leather.

Rook: The leather is nice. You look incredible in it.

Lucanis: I… appreciate the compliment. But is style really the only thing stopping you from being an assassin? You’re already an honorary Crow.

Rook: It’s good money, that’s for sure. But… I don’t like killing. Not by choice. I kill for survival, not greed.

Lucanis: I don’t kill for money, either.

Rook: I know.

Lucanis: But I understand. If you need work, or a place to sleep…

Rook: I know who to ask.

~~

Rook: Lucanis, I’ve noticed you hold your daggers more upwards. Is that comfortable?

Lucanis: The tilt makes it easier for me to slice. Why?

Rook: It’s not how I do it. Maybe you could show me? I always plunge the dagger in too deep. Ends up a mess.

Lucanis: Sure. What brought this on?

Rook: I don’t know… the Crows are so elegant at killing. It’s mesmerising.

Lucanis: I’ll make sure to tell the other Crows that Rook likes them. But yes, we certainly are taught style fairly early on. How is it with the Lords?

Rook: It’s… different. Okay, fine, I don’t really know.

Lucanis: How come?

Rook: Isabela taught me, no one else bothered to… or could get close to me. I guess I’ve simply developed her techniques.

Lucanis: All right. We can train together and exchange skills. Might be good practice.

~~

Taash: So. You and Isabela.

Rook: Uh-oh.

Taash: What?

Rook: Who told you? How did you find out?

Taash: Woah, slow down. I don’t know anything. But I do want to know now. Are you doing it?

Rook: What! Taash!

Taash: Ugh, what! Isn’t that what you were afraid of?

Rook: (sighs) No. I’m… Isabela practically raised me, Taash. Get your head out of the gutter.

Taash: O-oh. Sorry. Why didn’t you tell me in the first place, then? I thought we trusted each other. You met my mom. Holy shit, I met your mom!

Rook: (laughs) Well, I didn’t tell you because we’re not really official or anything. You know how she is. No touchy-feely stuff.

Taash: Yeah. I get it.

~~

Taash: Why do you wear Tevinter clothes? I thought you were a Lord.

Rook: Tevinter has style. Good colours, comfortable. Lets me appear like a normal citizen.

Taash: But you’re not Tevinter. Why hide where you really come from?

Rook: Taash, it’s Tevinter. I’m an elf. You really find nothing wrong with me wearing flashy Rivain clothes in gloomy, dark Dock Town? Without anyone bothering me?

Taash: (grunts) I guess that’s true. You ever tried, though? What if they’re cool?

Rook: I don’t want to risk it. Not hearing “knife-ear” every minute and just pretending I belong to someone is better.

Taash: Oh. That’s vashedan. I’m sorry they treat your people like that.

Rook: It gets worse, but thanks.

~~

Rook: Bel, did you adjust the rope yesterday?

Bellara: Oh, no, sorry. I didn’t have the time. The Nadas Dirthallen was acting up again. Sorry.

Rook: Hey, it’s okay! Take your time.

Bellara: We can do it together after we get back! What do you need the targets for, anyway?

Rook: I want to try throwing knives. No one’s ever taught me, and I saw a few Crows practising. If I could toss the bomb and then follow up with a knife throw, it would be much more effective than a timed bomb!

Bellara: Oh. Wait, hold on! That’s dangerous! What about collateral damage or friendly fire?

Rook: Eh. I’ll work those out on the fly. Don’t have much time to practice, anyway. But I’ll warn you if it helps?

Bellara: Uh… okay. I’ll tell the others to watch out for “sky bombs”.

Rook: O-o-oh, good name!

~~

Bellara: Rook, how are your burns? Do you need more healing salves? Should I bring some to your room?

Rook: (laughs) Bel, you’re fine. I’m fine! I’ve dealt with worse when I was just starting out. Messing with all this magic is new, but we’ll get there.

Bellara: I still feel bad. I asked you for help.

Rook: And I agreed! So no hard feelings. It’s not like you wanted for the core to explode. Unless…

Bellara: Rook! Of course I didn’t!

Rook: I was just messing with you. But there you go, then.

~~

Rook: Hey. What has an eye, but can’t see?

Davrin: Oh, please don’t.

Rook: Come o-on.

Davrin: Ugh. Fine. What?

Rook: A fsh!

Davrin: (sighs) I hate you, you know that? I already feel new wrinkles forming on my face!

Assan: (laughing squawk)

Rook: Aw, thanks, Assan! At least someone appreciates me around here.

Davrin: I can’t tell who’s worse: you or Assan.

~~

Davrin: Hey, Rook…

Rook: If it’s about your bed, it was Assan!

Davrin: I… what?

Rook: (laughs) Sorry, what were you gonna say?

Davrin: No. Please, do go on. What was that about my bed?

Rook: I’ll never tell.

Davrin: Fine. Then I’ll look the other way when Assan tries to play with your jewelry next time.

Rook: He’s been doing that?

Davrin: Among other things. Talk.

Rook: (sighs) I’ve been… napping on your bed when you’re gone.

Davrin: You what?

Rook: It’s really soft! And dark. It’s like I’m in a cave. Reminds me of the ruins.

Davrin: Hm. Well. If you ask, I might let you switch with me sometimes. I have always wondered what sleeping in your room is like.

Rook: I’ll let you see for yourself. And… thanks, Davrin.

Davrin: Just don’t go around mentioning this to anyone, got it?

Rook: My lips are sealed.

[aphroditeslover11]

Heyy!! I was thinking for Tommy how about a fluffy piece where he’s introducing Reader to his family. Thankss! Lots of love to you:).

Hi, I’ve done my best with this so hope you enjoy it. I enjoyed writing it as ever, love a bit of fluffy Tommy!

Meet The Shelbys

Warning: as you would expect for peaky, consumption of alcohol!

This was possibly the most nerve-wracking car journey of your life. It was Tommy’s birthday and, as he was Tommy Shelby and had absolutely everything that he could ever want or need, you had decided to ask him outright what he wanted. After telling you repeatedly that you didn’t need to give him anything he relented, saying that, as you had been together for a few months now, the best present that you could give him would be coming to spend an evening at the Garrison with the entire Shelby clan. That was where you were going now, sat in the passenger seat, fiddling with your hands in your lap whilst trying not to let on how nervous you were to Tommy

“I can tell you’re nervous love. I promise that they aren’t as bad as everything you’ve probably heard about them,” he said in a vain effort to comfort you.

“I know Tom, I’m just anxious that they won’t like me, I’m not exactly like the rest of you.” That was very true, with you having grown up in the countryside on your father’s estate, it wasn’t to the proportions of a place like Chatsworth, but certainly more comfortable than the Shelby’s Birmingham upbringing.

“I’m sure they’ll love you, just like I do,” Tommy reassured, reaching to bring your hand to his face so that he could place a gentle kiss on the back of it.

“I just hope that you’re right.”

“What do you mean, I always am.”

~

When you arrived at the Garrison the first thing that hit you was the smell of alcohol, it was like walking into a room of gaseous whiskey. Then the noise reached your ears, glasses clinking and men shouting, celebrating the end of the working week with a pint or five. You subconsciously reached for Tommy’s hand as he led you through the crowd to the bar.

“A whiskey and a wine Harry, are the others here yet?” he asked the barman.

“They are Tommy, in the snug as usual, who’s this lovely lady on your arm, if I’m allowed to ask?”

“Harry, this is my beautiful y/n, she’s meeting the family for the first time tonight. Y/n, this is Harry, best barman in all of Birmingham.” The barman then turned to you.

“I’m guessing that you must be nervous love, they aren’t so bad though, your Shelby is the worst by a long way.”

“I am a bit,” you admitted with an anxious smile.

“Do you drink whiskey love? might help take the edge off your nerves a bit.” You nodded in response. “I’ll make the order two whiskeys then.” You could tell Tommy was starting to get impatient, sighing impatiently at your side.

“Harry, I’ll thank you not to speak of me like that infant of my woman, and she’ll be drinking wine not whiskey thank you, send the drinks through to the snug when they’re ready.” You went to protest but Tommy cut you off before you had chance. “You know that you’re banned from whiskey until you can prove to me that you can handle it after the state you came home in last time, and I’m hoping that you might say hello to everyone before you get yourself absolutely rat-arsed.” He did have a point, so you acquiesced and allowed him to lead you into the smaller room off to the side.

The first person that you met was Polly, she was a little prickly to begin with, but once she had got the measure of you she was soon very welcoming, obviously she wanted to be sure that you were good enough for her nephew before she let you feel at home. Next came Ada, who wrapped you into a hug before Tommy had even had a proper chance to introduce you.

“I don’t care who you are or where you come from,” she said. “But you must be a saint if you can put up with Tommy.” This made everybody laugh, which was what drew your attention to the men on the other side of the table.

“Love, this is John, Arthur and Finn, my brothers.” Tommy stepped back up again.

“It’s nice to meet you at last. You know Tommy doesn’t shut up about you, so it’s nice to finally know who you are.” Arthur was the first one to speak to you.

“I can assure you that I’m really not that interesting” It was the John’s turn to join in.

“Well, Tom clearly doesn’t agree because we were all threatened with death earlier if we dared say anything to upset you. And I’m guessing that he doesn’t want you to know that from the look on his face now.” Tommy wiped the glare from his face before you had a chance to see it, placing an arm around your waist.

The drinks arrived, more were ordered as the evening went on and it wasn’t long before everyone found themselves at least slightly inebriated. You were sandwiched between Arthur and Ada, Tommy having started to talk business with John whilst the others were more interested in you. The conversation had taken many turns and you were just getting on to embarrassing stories about your boyfriend.

“When he was little Tommy and me used to get into fights all the time, he was a scrawny wee thing, but he had the stubbornness of a pack horse, never gave in. I always used to have to let him win so that he wouldn’t make me keep punching him until he got a concussion.” Arthur had you and Ada laughing hard. “He still won’t admit it all these years on.” Now it was Ada’s turn.

“He was an absolute devil to have around when I was a teenager, he always ruined any fun that I could have, he’d have had me under house arrest if Polly would’ve let him. Do you remember Arthur, that time that he caught me with that lad down by the cut and threw him into the canal?” Arthur nodded in ascent. “I swear he’d have thrown me in as well if it hadn’t meant we’d still be together. I asked him why I couldn’t have my own fun when he spent his life drinking in here and gambling and he just went off in a huff.”

Realising that you were talking about him Tommy turned to your little group.

“And what would you be saying about me over there?”

“Nothing bad Tom, just warning her what she’s getting herself into,” joked Arthur.

“I hope that’s it. She knows that I have plenty of things to say about her if you’re telling stories.”

It was nice seeing Tommy around his family he was so at ease around them, it was unusual to see him smiling and laughing in company unless it was just the two of you alone.

~

At the end of the evening you said goodbye to everyone, Tommy smiling at your slightly drunken self as you hugged everyone goodbye, completely transformed from the nervous wreck that you had been earlier. He had to practically drag you away from Ada, whom you had been getting especially friendly with, only managing to pull you out by promising that you could all meet up again soon.

[theunsinkableship1]

Lukolaland, a theory part 4

Back in London, things were seemingly going well, they were truly happy, exhausted and playful. Their season was at its peak, their tour was ending very beautifully, everything was magnificent, the world was full of possibilities, opportunities were coming. Glorious! But it went south real quick. L never broke up with A, and she was there at the London premiere. And that was disappointing, for N for sure, for the Polins and Lukola shippers also. A stab in the heart, a stab in the back. It was their day, the greatest conclusion to their years of hard work and commitment. It was all ruined because the focus shifted, unreasonably or not it did. The momentum was lost. Delusional fans or not, this was the ultimate wrong move on that day. N was probably angry because it dismissed all the work they had done, and also, maybe because her heart broke then and there. Some people cast and crew included thought that it was meant to be but according to L it wasn’t I don’t think that he was responsible for the papwalk, if so, this is just stupid of him, I don’t think that a professional PR agency as his, would make such a mistake, they know that they would lose money and opportunities over it and that’s what they’re about. Maybe the 🐜or someone in her camp (she has a representation that could have thought this was a good idea) did it, it’s. very childish and counterproductive contrary to what they think it is against all her interests.at the time. Maybe it was even a jealous and spiteful friend, or even DM getting back at N. My conclusion is that the crime didn’t benefit him in anyway and the hard launched could have waited as it still hasn’t happened the day I’m writing this in August 2024. N was hurt but she is getting over this, she has been the target of A and her camp which leads me to believe that, even they don’t believe in what they are cooking and serving. Even if N and L are not together, I hope that L will outgrow this part of his life, my guts tell me that they’re not good for him. He’ll still need to find a better partner and better friends, his entourage is messy and uncaring, they’ll prove themselves to be disloyal at best. L is a very talented and sensible actor who plays Colin Bridgerton very skillfully, and he is, if we believe others like N, Jessica, LT, JB etc. a very good person. I Iove N but I also love him, people make mistakes, I don’t think that he is that dense, he knows what he feels and what he did. He knows that he messed up, maybe he was trying to do the right thing by doing the wrong thing for him. Maybe he is not ready for all that and he wants to enjoy his “brothel ‘era” He needs to apologize to N, but something tells me that he is also angry and petty about something. He may already regret it; I just want him to make sure that he will not regret it later. L and N will go back soon to their professional love, I’m sure they will be very much guarded at first, but the more time they’ll spend together, the more difficult it will be to resist to LOVE. Only time will tell, N will go with the flow and conquer as always, L will be eager to play those lovey dovey scenes and will go back to method acting in no time. I think that they’re better together and I hope they’ll both do well apart, but right now L’ actions or lack of real actions are disrupting everything. In the meantime I’m still a citizen of LUKOLALAND, I ‘m still a patron as this WH restaurant, I have my first class ticket on Air LUKOLA, I'm on my way on this LUKOLA EXPRESS, I still have my membership at this private Club and I’m certainly, still a crewmember on this ship.

[dragonsdendoodles]

im sure youve talked about this before, but speaking of enorace, how do you think enoch helps him with the nightmares?

So this is a long one and no I’m not sorry I really really really like talking about these two.

So. We got two options here.

If Horace somehow hasn’t woken up yet but the others have, Enoch is a wreck. He’s always been the most nervous when Horace is having a nightmare. Hugh used to joke that he didn’t think Enoch had feelings at all until the first time Horace woke him up with a night terror, and the others figured out something was up with their relationship when Enoch somehow got even worse about it when no one else thought that it was even possible to be more worried. He’s pacing the hallway, he’s messing with his hands, and the second Miss Peregrine says he’s awake and they can check on him he’s at Horace’s side, making sure he’s not too shaken up. If he can beat Miss Peregrine to Horace’s door he’ll go in and wake him up himself, which is honestly Horace’s preferred outcome if he absolutely has to wake anyone up. Enoch will hold him, and they’ll talk about everything that Horace is willing to, and eventually Horace will either go back to sleep or he’ll follow Enoch to the basement to have that company a little while longer.

If Horace wakes up on his own (the significantly better option in Horace’s opinion, due to lack of worry on the others’ part and screaming on his,) he’ll make his way down to the basement because Enoch never sleeps and the second Enoch opens that door he knows what happened. He pulls Horace into his room and essentially the same exchange as the first option occurs, they talk until Horace is feeling better and Enoch doesn’t let go of him that whole conversation, telling him he’s safe now, the bad dreams can’t get him, it’s okay now. More often than not Horace will stay up with Enoch after having gone downstairs himself, both because Horace is afraid to be alone and Enoch wants to be absolutely sure he’ll be okay before he lets him out of his sight.

If Horace goes down to the basement in either scenario and is too scared to go back up (which is most of the time,) Enoch will pretty much always see this and go “nope. You’re staying with me” and they’ll cuddle until they fall asleep together. Helping with Horace’s nightmares is the only time Enoch ever actually sleeps in his bed, most of the time he finds a tight spot somewhere or he passes out on his desk, but his brain shuts up about being in too open of a spot to feel safe and he usually sleeps better than normal with Horace in his arms.

This is one of those things that I don’t think changed too much before and after they start dating. They’ve done this for decades, the biggest changes to their routine after they’re together are the amount of kisses Horace gets to help him feel better and how much more protective over his boyfriend Enoch is, especially at the beginning of their relationship. If Enoch can’t fight whatever made Horace cry, he can glare daggers at whoever is making it worse by keeping him awake longer than he needs to be.

Also, if Horace goes down to the basement, he knows he’s almost certainly not coming back up that night, so he leaves a note on his door letting Miss Peregrine know where he is when she comes to wake him up. While she’s not particularly thrilled with the arrangement, she truly doesn’t mind too much. She knows both of them, she knows how big of a security blanket Enoch typically is for Horace, and if she sees that note on Horace’s door she’ll usually let them both sleep in a bit longer, knowing they’re her two children most in need of a little extra rest.

[player1064]

Ok after the amazing angst one about their first time might I request a hurt/comfort… I love the complications of them being secretly together as players. Maybe Gary (srry bby) gets injured in a match and it’s scholes that has to tell Jamie and that’s how they come out to their friends or to the world, maybe Jamie’s there, idkkkkkk but something in the following of the SAF finding out one? 😁❤️

tbh like. at this point this is fully just a full length fic. perhaps I'm insane about them...

LOVE the idea of them being together in their playing days. wish I could find footage of Gary breaking his ankle but there's none!!!!!

Set as a sort of prequel to this one from a few days ago

---

17th March 2007

Jamie is on the team bus headed for Birmingham when it happens. Up front, the radio is playing match coverage, but he’s sat further back, he and Stevie too busy holding court with the players sat around them to pay it much attention. It’s always a good idea to keep an eye on what United are doing, but as it stands they’re twenty points clear of Liverpool and are certainly going to get another three today – it’s only Bolton, and they’re at home too.

So, he’s on the bus when it happens, but he doesn’t find out until the team is sat around watching Match of the Day later that evening. Even then, he doesn’t get to see the footage, the only mention that anything happened at all being a short “Gary Neville came off after 11 minutes with an ankle injury.”

His teammates cheer and Jamie tries to laugh along, but all he can think is why hasn’t he texted.

“Reckon that’s him off England squad this summer, then” Stevie says, grinning, “finally, some peace and quiet. An’ they’ll be needing someone to step in for ‘im, Carra, you might get more minutes.”

“I fuckin’ hate playin’ right back,” he groans, rolling his eyes (why hasn’t he texted why hasn’t he texted why hasn’t he texted).

He makes a show of looking at the clock, says something about needing to call his parents to let them know he’s got to the hotel alright, and high-tails it out of there to go back to his and Stevie’s empty room.

Still no texts, so he brings Gary’s number up and calls, pacing the floor while it rings.

It takes longer than usual, but eventually he’s greeted with a quiet “’lo?” and breathes a sigh of relief.

“Are y’alright, love?” he asks quickly, his words rushing together. “Only just heard, else I’d’ve called sooner – what ‘appened? That twat Lineker was so vague.”

There’s a long pause, long enough that Jamie starts to wonder if his signal’s dropped out, and then:

A voice which he now hears is definitely not Gary, saying “this is Scholes.”

“Fuck,” he hisses, and snaps his phone shut.

His phone starts ringing a few seconds later.

Jamie, because maybe he’s a bit stupid, answers it.

“Yeah?”

“Er,” he hears Scholes say, “Who’m I speakin’ to, exactly? Gaz’s only got this number saved as ‘J’.”

“Um,” Jamie says, panicking. “I’m just a friend of ‘is, heard he got injured so wanted to check he were alright.”

“’e’s still waitin’ on some scans, but they reckon it’s broken,” Scholes says. “Gaz doesn’t really have friends, does he, outside of team. An’ you sound –”

“—Okay, good t’hear he’s alright, bye then.”

Jamie snaps his phone shut again and tosses it onto his bed, wipes both hands down his face.

Broken. Fuck. That’s him out for the remainder of the season, then, he’ll be devastated. At least he’s already racked up enough appearances to get a medal when United inevitably win the league, not that the prick needs another one of those.

This thing of theirs, whatever it actually is, it’s not been going on that long. Not even a full year, if you’re ignoring the few mistaken fumbles at England camps over the years and only counting from when they’d made it – not official, exactly, because again Jamie’s not entirely sure what it is they’d be making official – but as close to official as it’s likely to get.

Gary, the prick, would probably give him a smack if he said all that to him. It all comes a lot easier to him, the – the words, and the feelings. Jamie can almost hear him now, why’s everythin’ always so complicated w’you, Jamie, stop bein’ a baby and just admit I’m your boyfriend.

His ankle is probably broken. Jamie should be there.

He has a match tomorrow.

He sits on the end of his bed, hunched over with his head in his hands while he tries to sort through the mess in his head to work out what he’s meant to do. There’s a buzzing in his head that feels so loud he doesn’t notice the soft click of the door opening until there’s a dip in the mattress beside him and Stevie’s hand patting him on the shoulder.

“Y’alright, lad?” he asks gently, shifting his hand to rub firm circles on Jamie’s back. “We’re headin’ down for dinner soon, boss sent me to find you.”

“I’m fine,” he says automatically, but when he looks up he can see the disbelief in Stevie’s face. “I am, I just – if somethin’ happened to Alex, like, if she’d been hurt. Would you go home? Even if you’re meant to be startin’ tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Stevie replies, like he doesn’t even have to think about it. “’Course I would, you know that. She’s – y’know, she’s the mother of my children, in’t she? I’d drop anythin’.”

Jamie groans, puts his face back in his hands. “’s not helpful, Stevie.”

“Well, no, ‘cause you don’t ‘ave kids.” Stevie pauses for a second, frowns. “Unless you –”

“—No!” Jamie says quickly, shaking his head. “Christ, y’think I could ‘ave a secret family? Give us a break. No, it’s just – I dunno, I been seein’ someone, for a little bit now, and somethin’s happened, and – and I feel like I’m meant to go home, aren’t I? Help out? But I –”

“But you can’t miss the game tomorrow,” Stevie finishes for him, because of course he knows that, he knows him, knows how his head works. “So there’s yer answer. Carra, she won’t hold it against you. If she – I mean, does she love you? Are the two of yous, like – why’ve you not said anythin’?”

Jamie feels a twinge of guilt. “’s complicated,” he says with a sigh. “But we – I s’pose so, yeah. I s’pose you might say that we’re – that.”

Stevie, god bless the man, seems to lose any trace of annoyance or upset over being left out of the loop, and throws an arm around Jamie’s shoulder with a grin. “My boy’s in love!” he says, squeezing Jamie tight. “Too much of a prick to tell ‘is best mate, but what else is fuckin’ new? Look, Jay, I know you, don’t I? And if she knows you, then she’ll know you ‘ave to play this game. Long as she’s not dyin’, I’m sure she’ll understand waitin’ ‘til tomorrow evenin’ for you to get home.”

“Ha,” Jamie says humourlessly, still feeling guilt clawing away at his insides, “prob’ly won’t notice if I’m there or not, anyway.”

Stevie pats him on the shoulder one last time and then stands back up, nodding his head towards the door in question.

Jamie gets up too, but they’ve only taken a couple of steps towards the door when another wave of guilt crashes into him and he blurts out “Stevie –”

“I’m bloody starving, Carra, c’mon now.”

“Stevie,” he says again, clenching his fists at his sides. He can’t look at Stevie, is staring up at the ceiling instead as he says “’s not a girl. That I’ve been seein’. That’s why I couldn’t tell you.”

There’s a long pause, where it feels like the air between them is humming, and then Stevie just nods and says “okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They make it all the way out of the room and into the lift down to the dining room when Stevie’s brow furrows for a second and then he turns to Jamie, eyes wide.

“Carra,” he says grimly, “please tell me the guy you’ve been seeing that’s got hurt today’s not another footballer.”

Jamie feels himself blush. “Um,” he replies.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Jamie, what is wrong w’you?”

*

When Gary is wheeled back into his private hospital room, it’s to the sight of Scholesy sat in an armchair looking thoughtfully at the phone in his hands.

He blinks when he hears Gary come in, looks up with a grimace. “X-ray gone alright?”

Gary shrugs, looks away. “Broken,” he says, trying to sound nonchalant. “Like they thought. Guess it’s gonna be more’n just three weeks out, then.”

Scholesy sighs, deflating slightly. “’m sorry, Gaz.”

“Is what it is. They said I can go home now, at least, so that’s somethin’. You got all my things?”

“Yeah, give us a second,” Scholesy says, turning around to rummage through the pockets of the coat that’s hanging on the back of his chair. He pulls another phone out, opens it up. “I’ll call us a cab, yeah? Want me to stay at yours tonight?”

It takes a second to compute that if the new phone is Scholesy’s, then the one he’d been staring at when Gary came in was –

“Erm. Were there any calls for me, while I was out?”

“Yeah,” Scholesy says, back to sounding sort of distant.

Please be from my mum, Gary thinks desperately, almost wanting to squeeze his eyes shut while he waits for Scholesy to elaborate.

“Um, texts from the family, of course. But just the one call.”

He hands the phone back to Gary, who opens up the call log to see exactly what he was hoping he wouldn’t.

Still, there’s a little glowy feeling in his chest at the fact he’d called.

“Ah,” he says. “Did you, er, d’you speak to him?”

“For a minute,” Scholesy says carefully. “Said he were a friend of yours.”

“Yeah,” Gary says with a relieved chuckle. His idiot boyfriend is good for something, after all. “Yeah, he’s a good friend. Good of him to check up on us.”

Except, then Scholesy adds: “Sounded Scouse.”

“Ah, yeah,” he replies, rubs a hand over his jaw. “Well, can’t hold it against him, I s’pose.”

Except, then Scholesy looks him dead in the eye and says: “Called you ‘love’.”

Fuck,

Fuck.

“Scholesy,” he says, feeling panic rise up inside him, “Scholesy, I can explain –”

“First boyfriend in how many years and it’s a bloody Scouser,” Scholesy mutters, which –

Which isn’t what Gary had thought he’d say, not even close.

“You don’t – you don’t mind that he’s – that he’s a man?”

Scholesy frowns at him like he’s lost his marbles. “Well, what else would he be?”

“I – a woman, Scholesy!” Gary screeches.

“But you’re gay?”

“You’re not meant to know that!”

Scholesy’s eyes flit up towards the ceiling. “Oh my god,” he mutters. He looks back at Gary, voice even. “You are so annoying, d’you know that? Nobody cares about the gay thing.”

“Oh,” Gary says, even though his head is screaming other people know too???

“He sounded worried, your lad on the phone.”

Gary feels himself relax a bit as it finally clicks how nice it is to be able to talk about this. “Yeah,” he says fondly, “’cause he’s bloody stupid.”

Scholesy hums thoughtfully. “What’s ‘is name?”

Ah, right. There is still that one, teeny tiny little problem.

“Um,” he says. “’s name’s Jamie.”

There’s a brief second while Scholesy’s brain works through the complicated equation of ‘Jamie + Scouser’, and Gary can tell the exact moment it computes because his eyes go wide and he says “Carragher?”

[milimeters-morales]

chapter 8 of my transfem miles fic <3

Chap 1 / Chap 2 / Chap 3 / Chap 4 / Chap 5 / Chap 6 / Chap 7 / Chap 9

Wordcount: 4k+

Warnings: Nothing graphic, but some bones get broken

“I’m trying to say that even if you say it’s fine, and that you did it on your own, you shouldn’t have had to.”

Okay, he gets that.

“And that simply doing something doesn’t get rid of your fear. Which, is a reasonable one! I don’t want you to think I think it’s crazy or something.”

Miles starts to fiddle with his earrings as he listens.

“I’m just saying sorry for not trying to figure it out… further. Like, more detailed and planned out, before you came out to your brother and Peter again.”

“Ganke, it’s—“

“Don’t tell me it’s okay, please,” Ganke sighs, twirling his pen, “I’m fine with you thinking that, but really think about what I’m saying, too.”

Miles lays back on his bed with his arms folded under his head. Staring at the ceiling really hard while he thinks certainly doesn’t help in the thought process, but it does feel like it.

So Ganke is… upset isn’t the word. He’s a bit guilty, maybe, that Miles came out on his own, despite everything being fine. 

…He wishes Uncle Aaron were here. He’d know exactly what to say to make Ganke feel better.

But Uncle Aaron isn’t here, so he’s going to have to man up and figure this out on his own.

And it should be easy, he become Ganke’s best friend before becoming his boyfriend! But it still feels like he’s missing something.

The bed dips, and Ganke rests his head on Miles’s chest, slightly curling into him. His body is warm, and Miles hooks their ankles together. A sense of calm washes over him as he focuses on the other boy’s heartbeat, and he starts breathing in sync. 

He can’t fall asleep. But man, he wants to soooo bad right now.

Maybe this entire situation is easy to understand, and Miles is the one just not getting it, like how he is with some unspoken rules in the world. Or maybe, it’s a “journey, not destination” type of thing he isn’t seeing. Sure, it would’ve been really nice if Ganke was there, but Miles isn’t sure that would’ve helped that much. He’d have to be extra careful jumping dimensions with a normal human with him, not to mention if the coming out went super bad.

If Ganke got hurt in any type of way on his watch, he’d never be able to forgive himself. Ganke would never trust him again, and they’d drift apart…

Ugh. Stop thinking about that. It turned out fine, Morales.

Maybe it isn’t about guilt. Maybe it’s like… how he can lift gigantic things by himself, but it is appreciated and a bit easier when other spider-people help out. They don’t need to, but that didn’t matter to them. 

He wasn’t ready to come out. He still doesn’t feel ready to tell anyone else. Managing to actually do it, much less to three people (four if you count Peter’s friend, which for Miles’s sanity, he does not), was only because Ganke was getting fed up, and Miles promised to come out to one of those people anyway. 

It was a bit more bearable coming out to Hobie, but was that because Ganke was there, or because Hobie was Hobie? 

Removing a hand from under his head, he places it on top of Ganke’s.  

Maybe he should just ask Hobie. They could ask him, together, even.

“Ganke, hey. Are you asleep?”

A light snore answers him.

Okay, maybe they can ask him later.

____

Having super-senses is as much a blessing as it is one of the worst curses in the world. 

The lady thanks him profusely, patting his shoulders as he lets her down from his hold.

Her perfume is overwhelming. It wasn’t a bad smell, but man, did she have to spray so much this morning?

“A good man, a good man,” she mutters afterwards, the shock still in her system.

“Here ma’am, there’s a few ambulances over there, they’ll take great care of you,” he gently tells her, “I have to go.”

“Yes you do, you’ve got to fight, good man… good man…”

Anyway, he’s here, fighting some dude with too much strength and not enough brains to realize he was also hurting himself in the process. He was yelling something about being followed, but it’s by nothing that Miles sees, so maybe it’s another invisible enemy just biding its time or something. Or the guy’s lost it.

The bulging muscles look grotesque, reminding Miles of zits that would pop from the slightest pressure. Eugh, gross. The guy, who he’s taken to calling Brick because come on, is barely protecting his modesty.

Oh he sounds old when he says that. 

The guy’s barely covering himself with some torn black briefs and black wrestling mask.

“Hey man! I don’t know what your deal is, but—“

He launches himself closer (which he really didn’t want to do, he doesn’t want to get close to this man at all), but Brick grabs a nearby truck and launches it at him. 

Without enough time to dodge, and the perfume smell lingering and making it hard to focus, Miles shouts in pain as the truck hits him full force, the crack of ribs and something on his face made him panic for a second, the pain not hitting him yet (hopefully it won’t be too bad). He quickly rights himself midair, webbing the truck to the ground as he continues to go flying into a wall. 

“Shit,” he wheezes out as he smacks into the hard brick and falls down to his knees. 

His parents are gonna kill him if he makes any of this worse.

Quickly standing up, he swings back over to Brick, landing on his back as the man bends over to lift up part of the sidewalk.

“Hey man, that hurt! Talk to me! What’s going on?” He snaps his fingers near the man’s ear, swiftly webbing his arms and legs to the ground. 

Not like it’s gonna do much , he thinks.

He feels something warm spreading all over his face as he stands up, and wonders if he should just avoid going home for a few extra hours. Give everything some extra time to heal before he freaks his mom and dad out…

“They’re after me!” Brick yells, ripping his arms free from the webbing and trying to swat Miles away with a large hand. 

He simply scuttles to a different part of Brick’s back-- why hasn’t that perfume faded yet?!

“Who?!” Miles shouts back.

“Them!” 

Thanks, man.

Miles huffs and webs the man again, not sure if he should paralyze him with his venom. Brick already looks really… unhealthy, his heart is for sure working overtime, and though Miles can (usually) control the amount of venom he uses, it seemed too risky.

Maybe he should just play along? He thinks he’s read that somewhere.

“Okay man, I’ll help you!” Miles pats Brick’s back, feeling for a heartbeat. Yeah, way too fast to be healthy. 

Did this guy take something that mutated him this badly? Like, super-steroids? Steroids on steroids?

“You can’t!” Brick shouts, ripping free again with a strange sob-yell, and starting to run towards another truck.

“Oh no you don’t,” Miles mutters, hopping off and grabbing Brick’s wrists before sticking his feet to the ground. “I can help! I’m super good at this!”

“Let me go!” Brick shrieks, trying his best to free himself from Miles’s grip. For a second, Miles is worried Brick will start ripping skin, but he tries to kick Miles square in the chest.

“Hey, that’s not nice!” Miles shouts, adding a bit of whininess to his voice, releasing Brick and jumping on top of the man’s foot to flip back onto his back. “Why don’t you tell me what their plan is?”

“They know I stole from them! Look at me!”

Okay, so Brick definitely took something. Miles feels pretty bad for calling him dumb earlier… how’s he supposed to proceed? The perfume still lingering makes it hard to focus, but he knows three basic things that might help. One: make sure Brick is as safe as possible. Two: get him water. Three: make sure he gets medical attention.

“I see you man, you’re huge,” Miles tells him, placing a hand on his shoulder, “how’d this even happen?”

Brick growls and goes to swat Miles again, but he dodges-- a bit too slow, because the mighty hand clips him on the shoulder, jostling him almost off of Brick’s back.

“I gotta know what happened, man! Do you have a name?” Miles asks, righting himself on the man’s back. 

Brick starts to run down the street again, away from approaching police sirens.

Great , Miles thinks sarcastically, shoulders drooping.

“Are the cops the ones after you?” He asks Brick, trying to hold on with his wavering vision and strength. “I can get them to leave you alone for a bit,” he says, not fully knowing if he actually can. He’ll try though.

“No! The-- Those scientists, they’re after me!” Brick stumbles over a pothole, sending Miles tumbling over onto the pavement. Ugh. There’s two of everything now. Is he losing too much blood? No, right? Nosebleeds don’t bleed that much for someone like him, he’s almost 100% sure of that.

Brick quickly grabs his arm, hand dwarfing the limb, and puts him back on his back as he runs down the street. The sudden movement makes Miles groan, but he pushes on. Brick’s about to go into spaces filled with people, and that perfume smell is starting to drive Miles mad.

“I have a scientist after me too, she hates me. Well, hated. I defeated her, but she might come back,” Miles tells him. “I might be able to help you get rid of those scientists, too!” He says, making his eyes wide and pointing in the air..

“Really?” Brick asks him, slowing down. Good.

“I promise to try! But we have to get somewhere away from all these people, and get you back to normal,” Miles says, taking a deep, shaky breath. His shoulder twitches as he waits for Brick to come to a complete stop.

Oh, thank god. 

Brick immediately jumps over twenty stories into the air, landing on the roof of a building. 

Miles feels ready to pass out. He thinks he did, for a few seconds.

“Okay… okay okay okay…” Miles repeats to himself a few times, slipping off of Brick’s back and onto the roof. “Alright, so just tell me exactly what happened.”

There’s definitely police gathering at the bottom of whatever building this is, so he has to be quick without freaking this guy out, and without messing up from being too disorientated. Fucking perfume.

“You won’t get me captured?” Brick asks, distrust lacing his tone. 

Miles takes a moment before responding. Captured… he probably means by the cops and the scientists. He won’t get Brick arrested, no, and he’ll try his best to make sure the man gets medical attention and adequate care, but he can’t prevent the cops from arresting him. He can delay it, but they could find Brick again, and arrest him for things that people have no doubt already recorded. 

The scientists, if they’re real, however… 

The man’s skin is severely flushed, his eyes are red, his muscles are unhealthily huge, and he’s convinced (reasonably so) that there are scientists after him because he stole from them. 

Miles feels so lost.

Brick starts to look uncomfortable, and Miles wonders if he’s finally going to explode, but then the man starts glitching. 

Miles gasps and backs up, mind racing.

Brick shouldn’t be glitching. Nothing should be glitching! Rifts that swallow people up shouldn’t even be happening anymore!

Quickly calling Peter-- no, Hobie, quickly calling Hobie, Miles frantically explains the situation with Brick currently screaming in pain as his body is contorted beyond belief in a matter of seconds before returning to normal like nothing happened, leaving him to collapse into unconsciousness.

“-Miles, Miles! Stop talking, I’m on my way with a stabilizer, stay with ‘im.”

A portal opens, a guitar riff momentarily playing over the wailing of police sirens, and Hobie lands next to Miles, carrying a clunky looking multi-colored bead bracelet. It kind of looked straight out of a kids toy section, but gave off a faint hum. Hobie quickly unclasps the bracelet somehow, and wraps it around Brick’s wrist, reconnecting it together with an almost inaudible click.

“Okay, what happened?” Hobie asks, gesturing to the unconscious man on the ground as he turns to Miles.

“I don’t know! He was freaking out, throwing stuff and hurting himself in the street, and I tried to calm him down so he jumped up here with me, but then he just started glitching! That’s not supposed to happen! We fixed-- that’s the entire-- it’s done--”

Hobie holds his hands up, slowly getting closer and finally placing them on Miles’s shoulders. “Hey, slow down. Take some deep breaths for me, yeah?”

Yeah, okay, he can do that. He can totally do that. If only it didn’t start sending sharp spikes of pain through his chest with each inhale. The adrenaline must be wearing off…

“I’m-- I think some of my ribs are messed up,” he admits, fighting the urge to cough. Something warm runs down the back of his throat, and he wants to thrash his head around at the feeling.

“Mm,” Hobie’s hands are gone in an instant, “we’ll get you home. I’ll call Gwen, she can handle this fella, no sweat.”

Miles feels the pain hitting him all at once. His nose is definitely broken, and now his shoulder hurts like hell in addition to the pain spreading from his chest to his entire torso. And that stupid perfume is still lingering to him like some skunk decided to get different and fancy. His head might explode in the next 30 seconds. 

“Wait, I don’t think he should be alone,” Miles says, “he took some drug, and he said some scientists are after him-- he might be right. I mean, I don’t know what world he’s from, but maybe we should just…”

Hobie looks back at Brick, and then back at Miles, “Don’t worry, he’s gonna be in good hands. We’re getting Margo on it too, see what’s going on, get him some real help-- he’ll be right as rain before you know it.” His lenses squint happily, “you did good.”

Gwen lands gracefully on the roof from her own portal, giving Miles and Hobie an excited wave. “So, what’s wrong?”

Miles can’t speak. It hurts so much. With each second that passes, everything becomes harder to understand and do.

Hobie fortunately speaks up for him. “This guy’s from another dimension, might be being hunted for taking a drug that made ‘im like this. Got the stabilizer on ‘im, tell Margo and get to a hospital.”

Miles notices his accent is practically unnoticeable right now. Isn’t that strange? 

“Huh, thought those were supposed to stop?” She asks as she gently picks up Brick. “Don’t worry Miles, it’ll be okay.” Her lenses squint happily, and then she’s gone.

His head starts to droop down, so Hobie hurries to hold it in his hand.

God, these police sirens. The perfume. The iron taste in his mouth. Even his own suit. It’s all teaming up against him. “My nose,” Miles mumbles, not wanting to move his face much. It’s not like he had the energy to, even if he did want to.

“Alright, I’ll take you home. This is gonna hurt, m’sorry.”

“M’the one, should be ‘pologzing,” Miles mumbles as Hobie tries to pick him up as gently as possible. He was right, it hurts like a bitch. That’s all he really has the energy to describe it as. 

“No, don’t say that,” Hobie tells him, swinging off. There’s the vague sound of gasps from below, but Hobie continues as if nothing else in the world really deserves his attention. “You did the best you could. Anyone could see that.”

“‘Cept Miguel,” Miles mumbles bitterly.

“We don’t have to think about that tosser,” Hobie responds, “society’s done with, remember?”

Miles nods slowly. He doesn’t like to think about the society at all. But sometimes the bitterness and lingering anger just seeps out.

“Do you think you can turn invisible? Just for a minute,” Hobie hesitantly asks.

Hissing through his teeth, Miles makes himself disappear. 

“Great, you’re doing great, bruv. Just hold on for me?”

Miles nods again, letting his eyes close. 

Some minutes later, he feels Hobie land and hears a door opening. It creaks loudly, and Hobie curses quietly. 

Opening his eyes, he notices the familiar walls, and almost startles right out of the other boy’s arms when it hits him that he’s being taken home.

“Hobie, my parents are gonna lose it,” he gasps, “let’s just go back to yours--”

“Can’t mate. If your ma and pa try it, I’ll get us right out to Pav’s,” Hobie promises as they head down the flights of stairs and to his door. He knocks harshly with his boot, and Miles swears his heart freezes when his mom opens the door.

“Shoot,” he mumbles.

____

His mom is talking to him, and there’s a press of lips to his forehead, then silence. He doesn’t want to open his eyes.

“I’ll be fine… in a bit,” he breathes out. Honestly, he’s been Spider-Man for nearly two years now, he thought he would be way more used to the pain and able to push through it.

“Papá, you did push through,” his mom’s voice is close to his ear, and he feels a gentle pressure on his arm.

Yeah, but only because he didn’t feel the pain. When the pain hit, he was like a baby.

“You’re always gonna be my baby. No matter what you do.” Her voice is directly above him now, and there’s a dip in the bed by his head. He feels his mask being carefully pulled off, slightly grimacing at the cool air on the blood caked on his face. “No matter what,” she repeats.

“Countdown?” Hobie’s voice almost echoes in the room. It was so weird. 

Remembering Gwen’s fake countdown, Miles furrows his brows. “Jus’ do it,” he mumbles.

His mom holds his hand. He really is a baby.

The pain explodes across his face again, making his leg kick out harshly and move the entire bed a few centimeters, probably. Tears sting at his eyes, and he fights the urge to twist his head away by shaking in place. 

“You’re doing great, so great,” he feels a warm and wet towel gently dab around his mouth and cheeks, “let me help.”

“His ribs,” Hobie informs, sounding like he’s messing with some sort of clothes.

“Heal on… own,”

“We know,” his mom and Hobie say at the same time.

“A few days,” he sighs, feeling scolded.

“And lots of rest,” his mom must feel something wrong with the shoulder she’s caressing, because she’s telling Hobie to “give that here” and to fetch extra ice packs instead.

Toilet paper, or he assumes that’s what it is, is used to wipe up the watery-blood left behind and the blood that keeps managing to run down the sides of his face. 

Hobie comes back, placing small bags full of ice wrapped in towels on his chest, sides, shoulder, and nose.

“I’ll get the ibuprofen,” his mom says, patting his hair with a feather-light touch.

“Still pretty new for me,” Hobie tells him casually once she leaves for the bathroom. 

“Wha? The… ‘profen?”

“Yeah, was made around when I was born.”

“…S’crazy.”

“And, um, sorry ‘bout your forehead,” Hobie chuckles, not sounding that sorry at all. 

Miles forces his eyes open, slowly focusing on Hobie, who has a small, almost unnoticeable smile on his face. His eyelids look heavier than usual, those mismatched brown eyes scanning his face. 

“…What?”

Hobie simply wipes his pinkie across his bottom lip, leaving an almost-black purple stain on his finger. He wags it, and gently wipes it off on his forehead again. 

Oh, does he have lipstick on his forehead now? That’ll wash off easily, right?

“Yeah, should be gone with a good shower.”

His mom comes back in with a large bottle of ibuprofen tablets, a water bottle, a chair, and extra pillows from the couch. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you recovering in less than half the time it would usually take,” she tells Miles, opening the bottles for him. 

Hobie tries to wipe the lipstick mark off with the wet towel used to clean up his blood, but it just smears the mark even more. He grimaces and shrugs.

The sound of a portal opening way above them, probably on the roof, makes Hobie glance up. “That’s Gwenny.”

Sure enough, there’s a knocking at the front door.

“I’ll get it,” Hobie says before his mom even opens her mouth, quickly making his way out of the room.

Ugh. He’s not ready for his mom and Gwen to awkwardly interact again. Even if his mom has mostly accepted that Gwen was in a bad situation, and treated her kindly… you could just tell Gwen was waiting for the other shoe to drop every second. The stilted conversations and added confusion from dimensional differences makes it almost painful to watch them interact without anyone to intervene.

But it’s all got to start somewhere. Even their… rekindling, he guesses, was more painful and awkward than that.

Gwen quietly makes her way into the room, appearing next to his mom and handing her a dark blue bottle of something, and some square that crinkled .

“It’s one of Mrs. Parker’s fudge brownies. She used to make them for m—a lot. Like, a ton,” she hurriedly explains. “Um, Margo managed to get that Spider-Doctor dude to take a look at the guy you helped, but if you don’t wanna talk right now…?”

He really doesn’t. But he needs to know if Brick is okay.

“He should rest first,” his mom explained gently. 

“Is he… alright?” Miles asks, focusing his eyes again. The sunlight from his window was making him regret opening them in the first place. So bright.

And that fucking smell. That perfume clung to him like its life depended on it, and it was all he could smell. He couldn’t stand it. He needs to bathe and wash his hair immediately.

“Language, Miles,” his mom gently but sternly scolds him. “And I’ll wash your hair for you.”

He is such a baby.

“I don’t know, the doctor said he seemed seconds away from heart failure, but he was able to at least find out what dimension your guy was from. He don’t wanna send him back, but he did mention going there to find what drug he took. Maybe to reverse the effects?”

“When your father gets here, he’s going to freak out way more than me,” his mom points out, conveniently ignoring the fact that they freak out equally as bad anytime he shows up with severe injuries. “Gwen, can you get another pillow from the couch? Hobie, run the bath with warm water. It should be at a good temperature by the time these painkillers kick in.”

Ugghhhh.

____

One bath and one assisted hairwash later, Miles still smells like that damn perfume. Not nearly as much, thankfully, but he can still smell it all over him. Before they left, Gwen and Hobie made faces when he got out of the bathroom, so he knows they still smell it too. His mom assures him it’s fine, it’s barely even there, just like the lipstick still smeared on his forehead. 

“They’ll just think I did it,” she laughs, “I’ll get my makeup remover. Don’t move.”

He relaxes into the pillows propping him up on his bed, wishing he at least grabbed his sketchbook before he laid down. All he has is his phone, and that’s been vibrating with several text notifications from Ganke-- must’ve finally woken up-- and his dad.

Oh man, his dad. It must be a miracle that those painkillers also made him drowsy. He doesn’t want to have to have any serious conversations about Spider-Man stuff anymore.

His mom comes back and wipes the lipstick off of his forehead, having to use a bit of pressure. “Sorry,” she apologizes, “I didn’t know you and Hobie were so close.”

“I didn’t really expect it either,” he mumbles tiredly. Hobie was pretty physically affectionate with his friends, but a kiss? Last on the list of things Miles would think Hobie would do. Much less to him… he’d expect it more with Pavitr or Gwen, to be honest.

His mom hums, “You should talk to us about your friends more. They seem like they care a lot. Do they know Ganke?”

“Yeah,” he replies as he feels his eyelids get heavy again. He really shouldn’t be this tired, he’s sprung back from broken bones and concussions before, but the injuries, the overwhelming scent of perfume that must have been cursed, the bath, and the hair washing somehow did it. 

He should still be out there, it’s not even three. 

A yawn escapes him and makes him grimace at the faint pain in his face.

“I’ll tell your father to be quiet when he comes in,” she kisses his forehead and leaves the room, letting him slowly drift off to sleep. 

_____

Thanks to the enhanced metabolism he’s been wonderfully blessed with, the medication wears off quickly. He’s still tired though, so he doesn’t make any real effort to keep himself awake, opting to just hover in between fully alert and half-dead. Maybe this is all a very real-feeling dream anyway.

“Are you awake?” he hears his dad ask softly.

“No,” he mumbles.

“Alright,” his dad responds, followed by the sound of a closing door.

This happens a few times, and each time Miles is no more awake than the last.

“Is that perfume?” his dad asks during one visit.

Miles forgets how he responds to that the second it leaves his mouth, but his dad brushes a thumb over his forehead and leaves again.

Maybe the final visit, or the final visit Miles remembers, his dad actually sits on the edge of the bed and removes the ice packs.

“You’re gonna get yourself killed one day… I don’t think I’ll ever be alright with it. This. I can’t…”

And Miles remembers moving his hand, to do something, maybe offer a comforting pat on the back because he’s absolutely awful when it comes to this, but his dad catches his hand and holds it.

“You’re killing me here,” a quiet, sad laugh comes from his dad. 

Please don’t cry, Dad. He doesn’t know how to handle that.

“You’re our baby.”

Please don’t cry. 

“Aw, Miles, don’t cry-- look, I’ll get new ice for these, you don’t need to cry.”

A/N: I only did a few corrections and I think I missed some things, do not point them out please 😭 i should have posted this ages ago! also, 'im and 'em are not being used interchangeably, in case anyone thought they were. apparently past me thought this chap was rushed at the end, but i don't see what he meant? if you noticed that don't point it out either though thank you so mash

[eccentrcks]

WIP Wednesday

I’m pretty sure someone tagged me before @sergeiravenov, but I count find them in my notifications. 😭 anyways, thank you so much for the tag and I’ll do three pieces of my girls.

Gone Through Time

Marlene can still smell the stench of death through her nightmares and hallucinations. A rather familiarized smell, but that was something she hated. Especially if it involved him. I’m sorry, Anthony… she wanted to hold him close to her and apologize profusely for being the cause of his death.

“It wasn’t your fault.” His hallucination form would try to console her. It didn’t do much, in fact, seeing him this way just made it worse. Covered and blood with a metal shard shoved into his sternum. His bashed head caused from the impact of falling just made her go through a bad spiral as her PTSD was triggered badly.

She gagged so much after sobbing hard while yanking on her own hair. Even thrown back about five decades in the last, his ghost still follows her.

Her moments of pure vulnerability mostly happened in private. Completely overwhelmed after holding all of this pain in after repressing all of that grief and all.

Dane was right. Her eyes showed more grief and pain more than her face, she needed to keep this under control so no one can detect her true identity at the CIA. She didn’t had her antidepressants on her, not that they’ll do any help, yet the man insists she gets it together.

“Don’t let Adler catch onto you. He’s already suspicious enough. Just say the word and I’ll get one of our own to deter him off your tail.” He insists.

Marlene shook her head in refusal. “I can handle that asshole by myself, just… just let me do this. I’m sorry, it’s just a panic attack. I’ll make sure it won’t happen again.” She’s Mylene to them, not Marlene, they only see a typical linguist among them. Not the real her.

Dane bit his inside cheek and gave her a look when she said that. Something tells him that she’s telling that to herself instead of him.

The Collapses of Three Facades

Teresa felt numb when finding out that she was pregnant. She was already responsible for three lives who are so precious that were given to her by someone who genuinely trusted her. A part of her wasn’t sure who exactly the father is, but some part of her says she already knows.

Does it really matter at this point? They were nothing more than friends with benefits and both made sure that it was nothing more. Although Teresa was painfully aware that he wanted a big family of his own someday with someone whom he trusts and actually loves.

And she’s positive that it wasn’t her.

There was no room to get pregnant on this job. She was far from done and this revelation is nothing more than an obstacle. No one would approve of this, neither her mother, or them, and if they were to find out about her little escapees. He would be dead.

So no, Teresa knows this is way too risky for the two of them. Her soft brown eyes glanced at the box of morning after pills and gulped. Surely it won’t hurt that bad, won’t it? She can handle some bad cramps, but not the emotional impact of killing her own unborn baby.

Distortion and Clarity

Jane lost feeling to her fingers and continued scurrying away while cradling her left injured hand. Breathing heavily as she continuously looked over her shoulder.

Not sure if she can wear anymore rings after this.

Everything doesn’t feel right and it was suffocating her. She can feel herself twitching and almost hyperventilating. Everything was loud again. Michael wasn’t here to comfort her this time, no, she needs him, he always knew what to do compared to everyone else.

It wasn’t long before she slipped and fallen into a puddle of blood in the dark hallway…the texture was thick, that she almost gagged, and the clumps certainly didn’t helped her sensitive sensory, then she realizes there was more than just blood.

Jane was completely shaking when she lifted her bloodied hand to see hair tangled with her fingers and the sight was enough for her to actually vomit this time.

Tagging: @efingart, @revnah1406, @alypink, @adlerboi, @welldonekhushi, @walder-138, @alexxmason, @ravsbloodbunny, @starcrossedspirit, @rosebarry16, @kaitaiga, @sleepyconfusedpotato, and you 🫵 (the tag list is small because it won’t let be tag others for some reason-)

[rhinestoneskye]

Kick It Off Right

Word Count; 5.7k

Warnings; brief sex jokes, mention of alcohol, slight discussion of religion and mention of disbelief, Josh being Josh.

————————༒————————

A whole month off. Tour had finished, a new album released, their record company had the ball in their court. The final decision? Let the professionals plan while the band took a break.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”

Josh had a mini crisis in the middle of the living room three nights after they got the news.

“I can’t do anything. I can’t perform, there’s nothing to record.. I have no inspiration to write… the guys are all doing their own thing-“

I sat on the couch and tried my best to listen without seeming too excited. I already had ideas of ways to keep him busy, but I’d been waiting to suggest any until I knew for a fact he was at a loss for plans.

“Let’s go on a road trip.”

“That’ll never work…” he drew in a breath to continue before pausing. Josh’s arms folded across his chest, brow furrowing in question as he looked down at me. “A road trip?”

“I’ve always wanted to visit the state parks. Let’s go do something with nature.”

“A road trip?” This time he asked to make sure he was hearing me correct.

“Yes, Josh.” I folded my own arms across my chest. “We have a few months to do our own thing. Let’s escape.”

“What if they need me?”

“The label said they wouldn’t, and if they do, that’s the beauty of phone calls and FaceTime.”

“What if my band needs me?”

“They’re doing stuff too. And if your brothers really need something, they’ll have Danny. And Danny will have them.”

“What if-“

“Just pack your shit and go on a road trip with me, Kiszka.” I couldn’t listen to his endless worries any longer. He just needed to get out of his house in a way that wasn’t involved with work. Josh let out a sigh. He pursed his lips, a sign I knew all too well. He was ready to argue. To tell me no. To say I should go with the girls. I looked right back at him with a stern gaze. “You need it.” I pressed on.

There was a beat before his shoulders fell, and a sigh escaped his lips.

“Just a week.” He tried to compromise. I decided it was best to give in and not test further limits.

“We’ll start with a week.”

“Can we leave on Friday? So I can tell everybody and- and just be prepared?”

“Yeah. We’ll have to get a rental anyway.”

“A rental?”

“Absolutely. I’m not road tripping in an uncomfortable car.” Josh bit his bottom lip in consideration. “Let me handle it. Okay?” I offered.

“Yeah.. that’s fine.” He gave in easily. Josh seemed to be so stressed and yet so carefree at the same time. I could rent a van if it meant he wouldn’t have to worry about it. I’d already called a few companies anyway when I came up with the idea of road tripping. Id stumbled upon a perfect vehicle when I visited a place with an old Volkswagen camper van. Josh had talked about them before, and how much he loved them.

I already knew where I was renting from, so it made the task so much easier.

The week came and went. Josh became more and more comfortable with the idea of a road trip as the days passed. We purchased a few maps and planned our route together during quiet evenings on the couch. His excitement began to radiate as he talked about all the places he wanted to go. And of course he asked about my stops as well. Our compromise on one week immediately turned into the full month once he was fully on board with the idea. Josh and I settled on a few different bottles of alcohol to take, as well as snacks. We packed our bags according to the locations and the projected weather. Mostly shorts and tank tops. A few pairs of jeans and a sweatshirt or jacket in case of emergencies. A first aid kit was set out by our things, and a few blankets. Josh insisted on bringing his favorite pillow. Our pile was by no means big, considering the space we’d have to fit our things in, but we had certainly covered everything.

I thought we’d finished packing until I stepped out of the shower one night to see Josh sat on the floor by his nightstand, gently placing a camera into an old black bag I hadn’t seen in ages.

“You’re taking your camera?” I smiled, a laugh bubbling from my lips when he jolted at the sound of my voice.

“Uh.. yeah. I thought maybe it would be fun.. to film a little.”

“Oh yeah?” I prompted him to go on.

“I’ve always wanted to make a traveling documentary.” His cheeks flushed, embarrassed by the confession. But I found it endearing. If he hadn’t been so artistic and passionate, I never would have fallen as hard as I had.

“Only if I’m in it.” I teased, watching the way his eyes lit up.

“Of course.”

By Friday, Josh and I were practically sprinting out of the house to get to the rental company. He quizzed me the whole way there on the car I’d rented, but I didn’t let up until we got inside the building.

We spoke with the woman at the desk before we found a place to sit.

“What color is it?”

“White and blue.” I placed my hand on his knee, a gentle reminder to relax.

“Are you sure you got a good one?” He didn’t doubt me, he simply wanted to double check.

“I got the best one on the market.” I perked up at the sight of the man I spoke with when I visited, approaching with a pair of keys in his hand. I quickly stood, and Josh took it as a signal for himself to stand as well.

“Kiszka?” He asked, and we both nodded. “You two are going to love this piece of history. The company we bought it from spent quite a bit fixing it up to make it road safe and comfortable.”

“History?” Josh whispered in my direction. I grabbed his hand and squeezed it.

“It’s right outside. You can leave your car in the lot, and if you’d like to hand your keys over somebody will move it for you.”

“Thank you so much.” I held my free hand out to Josh, who fished his car keys from his pocket and rested them in my hand. I passed them to the man in an exchange for the van keys.

“Babe.” Josh whispered the moment the man turned to lead us outside.

“What’s up?” I asked, barely able to contain my smile.

“Can I see those?” I gave him the keys, allowing him to do his inspection, furthering his theories.

“No way-“ I had to assume Josh caught on the second he saw the logo on the key fob. “No fucking way.” I laughed quietly. The moment we got outside, Josh’s last theory became a reality. “Oh my god. It’s breathtaking.”

I released Josh’s hand to let him explore, giving a grateful nod to the man who stood by the front door. My lover looked nothing short of a kid in a candy store.

“If there’s any issue you encounter or if there’s information you need, you can give me a call. Ma’am you should have my number, and if you lose it, there’s always a backup in the car’s information package in the glovebox.”

“Thank you so much.” I flashed the man a smile. “We just have to get our things out of the car, then we’ll be out of your hair.” He nodded in understanding before turning to go back inside.

“Josh.” I caught his attention and tried to stifle my laughter when his wild expression caught my eyes. “Let’s go get our things.”

We decided to kick off our trip at Fall Creek State Park. It wasn’t a long drive, and it gave Josh and I a chance to get used to the van and all its glory. He loved it. Driving was a little different, the wheel turned a bit more stiffly, and the gear shift was a whole different style, but overall he adapted well. I sent a few pictures in the group chat with the band, most of which earned replies of excitement and playful jealousy. The three hour drive to the park was full of conversation. I’d never seen Josh so talkative, which said a lot. We stopped in between the second and third hour for dinner in an old diner, sharing quiet conversation over a stack of homemade pancakes and blueberry syrup. Then we got back on the road. Once we got to the park, it was a struggle to find a campground to settle in. The help of a ranger though, got us going in the right direction.

“I told you.” I pointed to the sign we’d passed a few minutes ago.

“You didn’t tell me shit.” Josh sassed with a playful grin.

“You better watch it.”

Josh pulled into the first empty lot, and we’d crawled out of the van with speed, pulling open the sliding door to step into the vehicle. It was a cramped space, and I had to shove Josh multiple times to get his backside out of my face, but we knew we wouldn’t be in it much other than sleep and driving. The space was sufficient for the things we’d need it for.

“We can’t change at the same time.” I informed him as I sat on the bed, watching his head turn to look at me.

“Sure we can!” I rolled my eyes when Josh pulled the door shut and tossed my bathing suit in my direction. “You just change there, and I’ll change here.” He gestured wildly to the small area, and I merely rolled my eyes at his persistence. I made sure the blinds in front of the windows were closed, and asked Josh to hold a blanket up between the back part of the vehicle and the windshield so nobody could see me. He was happy to do so. He was just as happy to stare at me while I changed too. But I let it slide.

Once I got my bathing suit on, I slid back into my shorts and t-shirt. Then Josh and I switched positions. I held the blanket while he changed into a pair of swim trunks, though I would say, I didn’t stare as much as he did. Only a little.

“Let me grab a few things to throw in a book bag, then I’ll be ready.” I informed him as he slid the van door open again. Josh gave a nod and snagged the strap of his camera bag to haul out with himself. It didn’t take me long to pack a bag. Two water bottles, a few bandages, a couple granola bars. I grabbed a towel too, stuffing that into the bag before I stepped out of the van, an immediate blush spreading across my cheeks when I caught sight of the camera in Josh’s hands.

“Josh.” I scolded in a whined tone, holding a hand up toward the lens, but I didn’t dare touch it.

“It’s okay, just smile. I want a couple pictures.” He was videoing, but I was none the wiser. So I gave in, lowering my hand and standing awkwardly for him. His smile was bright as day while his face lowered to look through the lens once again. “You look beautiful, hun.” He certainly knew how to make me open up. “Absolutely stunning.”

“Are you done yet?” I grew impatient and suspicious quickly, placing my hands on my hips.

“Yeah, yeah. Okay.” He waved a hand dismissively before finally lowering his camera, the item hanging from his neck by a brown leather strap embroidered with a white flower pattern.

“Can we go now? I wanna find those waterfalls.” I asked, hopeful to officially begin our trip.

“Yes, we can go.” Josh held his hand out, and I was swift to interlock our fingers. Work was long forgotten. Miles away back in the heart of Nashville. I had Josh all to myself.

We found a map of the walking trials and tourist spots. I helped Josh locate one of the beautiful waterfalls, and we spent some time trying to find the trail we were supposed to be on. Once we found it, our journey began.

Sometimes we shared a few words, but overall it was a quiet journey. A few stops were taken for photos, some I made Josh take, others he made me stop so he could take. We didn’t have to talk or pay much attention to one another to feel together. Doing this side by side was enough. I was certain Josh was at peace. Feeling a type of serenity he hadn’t felt in a long time. His silence was as comforting as it was off putting. I wondered what he thought. What was going through his head.

“Do you have a paper?” His voice tore through the silence at one point, tentative and distracted. Clearly still enveloped in his thoughts.

“Other than the map? No.”

“Do you have a pen?”

“Yeah. We needed one to write on the map.”

“Can I have it?”

My brow furrowed in amusement, but I turned my back to Josh for him to get the pen nonetheless.

“Side pocket.” He looked in the right one first, inconvenienced to find it wasn’t there. He quickly pulled the pen from the left pocket before unzipping the bag and grabbing our map.

“Hold still.. okay?”

“What?” I craned my neck to peek over my shoulder.

“Just hold still, please. I need to write something.”

“Okay.” I tapped my feet a few times, glancing down at the dirt while I waited for him. When the pen stopped against my back, and I heard it click, I finally turned toward him. Josh had to stretch over me to stick the map back into the book bag, flashing me a quick and lighthearted glare. I chuckled and turned back around so he could zip the bag.

“Can I know what that was?”

“Not yet.”

“Don’t make me wait years.” I groaned dramatically. Josh slipped his hand back into my own and gave a gentle tug to get me walking again. I fell into step beside him.

“You’ll be the first to hear whatever it is I’ve come up with. Okay? I promise.”

“You said that the last time.” I gently swung our hands between us.

“Well.. I mean it this time.”

“Mhm,” I smirked, glancing at him to catch the smirk on his lips.

“Can you at least tell me what’s on your mind then? Clue me in a little.” I bumped my shoulder against his own. Josh’s silence after such a question was normal. He liked to formulate his sentences in his mind before he spoke. At least when it was meaningful. When it wasn’t meaningful, he never gave a single thought to the words that came out of his mouth.

“How beautiful it all is.”

“The forest?”

“Creation.”

I should have known it was deeper than just the surface level things.

“As in.. the entire world?”

“No.” He didn’t elaborate, but I caught on.

Creation as in, the biblical creation. The creation that took seven days. Six if you don’t count the day God rested. The creation that quite literally marked the beginning of the universe.

The creation Josh wasn’t even sure he believed in.

“Somebody made it.” He paused. “Or something made it.”

His family had been raised religious. And while Josh always struggled between believing in the existence of a god or not, he did believe in something. He just didn’t know what.

“Everything has a purpose, you know?” Josh’s eyes fell to the ground. “It all fits together so perfectly. Every thing assists some other thing when it comes to living. It really hits you when you’re in the middle of it all. They used to tell us in Sunday school, that God made everything with a purpose. Sure as hell, everything has a purpose.. it’s just.. you know, there’s no real physical proof of anything.” He glanced at me, and I gave a nod for him to continue.

“There’s never an answer for any of it. You don’t know where it comes from, and even scientists can’t tell you for sure how each atom came together. I’d love to know how something so beautiful came into existence. It’s not fair we don’t get to know everything.” I chuckled softly at the almost childish expression.

“If you knew everything, you’d be unstoppable, rockstar.” I couldn’t stop him from thinking, nor did I want to, but I could try to bring him back from the existential cliff he stood on the edge of.

“Maybe.” Josh delved back into his thoughts at the end of our conversation, eyes trailing back to the forest around us.

I was thankful Josh had as much time on stage as he did, running about and simply being on his feet for hours at a time. He was certainly fit, but his short legs did him no favors when it came to physical activity. So to have the extra strength, it certainly helped. The hour walk went by fairly well, other than the occasional whine about his feet being sore or a groan about his back. Mostly just for attention.

When we came through the clearing in the forest, Josh and I finally came face to face with the beautiful waterfall we’d been on the search for.

“I’m so hot.” I mumbled, the sight of a body of water quickly making me realize my own temperature. I dropped our book bag by a tree and stripped out of my shirt and shorts, tossing both articles haphazardly into the grass before I took off toward the water. I heard Josh’s giggly laughter behind me. “Josh!” I called for him, a shiver wracking my spine the moment my feet hit the water and the droplets splashed up my body.

“I’m coming!” The water slowed my steps the deeper I got, and eventually my feet got caught so deep that I had to stop. I turned just in time to spot Josh running full speed ahead into the body of water, picking his knees up higher as it got deeper. A gasp escaped my lips the moment his body jerked forward, tumbling right beneath the water with a wild yell that sounded incredibly similar to any yell he’s ever let out for an album. I knew before he even surfaced that he had a mouth full of water. Josh’s once wild hair was completely soaked. His head whipped out from beneath the water along with most of his upper body, a scrape on one of his shoulders and one along the left side of his chest. He coughed and coughed, and my concern quickly dissipated. If he could cough he could breathe. He’d be fine.

“This is why we don’t run like idiots into shallow bodies of water.” I scolded as I leaned forward, brushing my fingers along the scrape on his shoulder. I tried my hardest not to laugh. Josh flashed me a distasteful glare and flinched away from my touch. His frown, no matter how real, couldn’t last long. His eyes met my own, and in a flash his lips turned upward in a smile to match my own. Though mischief was masked in his gaze. In my own, pure love and adoration.

That damned camera was recording again. Somewhere set up in the clearing. I caught one glimpse of it when Josh jumped upright and wrapped his arms around my midsection, lifting me up and promptly dropping me right into the water. I tensed in anticipation, prepared to scrape my own body on something, but no pain ever came other than a slight pressure when my back rested against a few rocks. I came up gasping for air, teetering on my feet and moving my hair out of my face. I caught my breath before I shoved Josh’s chest.

“You ass!” I yelled. He laughed.

“Let’s do it again!” His arms reached for me once again, but I immediately backed away.

“No!” His jovial giggles were contagious. The lighthearted nature of the entire ordeal had me laughing along with him. We looked like kids. We felt like kids. Josh always knew how to make anybody feel young.

“Josh I’m soaking wet!” I shouted through laughter as I tried to keep away from him. Though it became harder to move as he backed me deeper into the little lake.

“I am too! Just come here!” He reached for me again, but I swatted his hand away. Josh let out a rather pathetic gasp, cradling his hand to his chest in a flash.

“That didn’t hurt.” I immediately glared at him. But he merely responded with wide sad eyes and a pouting lip. “Josh, fuck off. That didn’t hurt.” I scolded him for his antics. We both knew that if he kept it up long enough, I’d give in. “Joshua.” I glared. He sniffed. I glared harder. “I swear to god, if you start crying in the middle of this place I’m gonna abandon you here.” I’d never dream of it, but we both had a rather aggressive sense of humor. Josh knew I didn’t mean it either, because the second I gave him the idea, he started acting like he was tearing up, drawing in a deep breath and readying for a long wail. Curse his family for supporting his theatre kid dreams. Since when did the the oldest children become so needy for attention?

“Okay! Okay!” I swiftly waded through the water to get to him, forcing my hand over his mouth, dangerously close to being a second too late. Josh’s arms immediately wrapped around me. I tensed, but relaxed when his hands rested on my back. A cheeky grin on his lips.

“That’s all I needed.” He confessed, content to stand there with the sun beating off our backs, wet and chilled, looking like a pair of rats. I rested my hands on his shoulders.

“You stress me out sometimes.” I teased with a quiet laugh somewhere between a sigh and a groan.

“But you love me.” He clarified. I had no choice but to agree with a nod. “May I have a kiss?” He asked, feigning a posh accent.

“You may.” I granted with a curt nod, gasping when he leaned forward and dipped me, the initial shock making my muscles tighten. Then our lips locked. I moaned in delight at the feeling, eyes closed while my hands struggled for a mere moment to slip around Josh’s shoulders. Every kiss with Josh was meaningful, but I saved the word passionate for the ones that felt truly magical. The kisses that made sparks fly. Kisses like these. He pulled away first, careful to help me up onto my feet before he pulled me by my sides into his chest.

“Will you take a few pictures underneath the waterfall for me?” He dipped a finger beneath one of the straps of my swimsuit top. Innocent, but fidgety.

“Yeah, of course. Anything for our documentary.”

“Our?” Josh acted outraged, pulling back with a bewildered look.

“If I’m your star, then yeah, it’s ours.”

“Fine. We split the credit 60/40.” He held his hand out to me.

“50/50 or you can find another star.” I argued. Josh pretended to consider it before he gave in.

“Fine.” We shook hands before trekking out of the water together. I fished the towel from our book bag and helped Josh dry off before he grabbed his camera. Ending the video I was oblivious to him taking.

“Come on.” Josh surprised me by grabbing ahold of my hand, pulling me in the direction of the water fall before I had even dropped the towel. I had to leave it in the grass a few feet from our bag, but with nobody around I assumed it would be fine. He guided me down into the water behind the water fall, holding onto my hand until I was off the slippery rocks.

“I just want a few of you behind the water.” He said, walking a little ways away, occasionally checking the lens to see what the camera would capture. Each area he wrinkled his nose at, until he stepped down into the water and found what he was looking for. What that was, I didn’t know. He gave me a thumbs up and told me to pose. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I’d been a teenage girl once, so I recalled the old dramatic bathroom photo shoots and mirror selfies, and pulled a few poses out of the old memories.

“Can you cross your wrists above your head?” I raised my brow at Josh’s words, but did so nonetheless. “Stand sideways and arch your back.” I couldn’t help but chuckle as I did so. I felt silly. “Look up.” He paused. “Beautiful.” He complimented, per usual, before taking a few more pictures. “Look over at me.” I turned my head to look at Josh.

“My back is starting to hurt, twinkletones.” I called, just barely hearing the faint click of a few photos being snapped.

“Twinkletones.” Josh laughed. “I like that one.” His head finally lifted. “I’m good now.” He stepped out of the water and came to my aid, pulling me out with a delighted expression. Josh loved music. He loved performing. But there was always a look on his face I could never describe when he was behind a camera. It was his first true love. His first dream before everything else.

“What’s next?” I asked, resting my hand on his shoulder as I stepped up the bank and onto the dry grass.

��I don’t know.. what time is it?” I checked my watch when he asked.

“Seven thirty.”

“The sun sets soon. We can go back to the van? Try to catch it before we shut in for the night?”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea.” I slid my hand into his own as we walked back to our things, grabbing the towel on the way. Josh helped me pack our bag once again, and he slipped his shirt on after.

“We’ll wash off those scrapes too.” I made note of it, and he nodded in understanding.

The walk back to the campground was full of more conversation. Josh showed me the photos he took, and though I insisted he show me the videos, he refused, saying he’d show me when he had the ‘film’ all put together.

“Water?” Josh asked near the end of the trail. I slipped the book bag off my back and unzipped it, retrieving our waters. I passed one to him and asked him to zip the bag for me. “Yeah I got it.” Josh had mumbled before sealing the bag. With the van just in sight, we had stopped to take a few sips of water. I took note of the frizz in his half dried hair, a holy mess I knew I’d have to get used to during the month we’d be out. After we closed the distance between ourselves and the van, Josh dropped down by the sliding door of the vehicle, a long sigh tumbling from his lips as his head fell back against the siding door. I laughed, gently nudging his thigh with my foot as a signal for him to move over. As he did, I slid the door open. I dropped the book bag on the floor and stepped in to gather something for us to sleep in.

“What do you wanna wear?” I called, met with silence. “Josh?” Nothing. I swiftly turned and peeked out of the vehicle. I wasn’t sure if he wasn’t listening, or if he was asleep, but his eyes were closed. I crouched down and leaned forward to pinch his shoulder.

“Ow. Fuck- what?” His eyes quickly opened, looking up at me in irritation. I chuckled.

“What do you wanna sleep in?”

“Got my sweatpants?”

“If you packed them.” I answered swiftly. His expression shifted into consideration, uncertainty, then annoyance again. He slowly stood up, groaning all the while. I slipped back into the van and sat down on the bed, making space for Josh to go through his own bag while I rested my own legs.

“Got ‘em.” He held them up triumphantly, almost slamming his fist against the top of the van.

“Perfect.” I leaned forward to grab the clothes I’d laid out on the small countertop. One of Josh’s t-shirts and a pair of silk shorts. Josh shut the van door and reached for the blanket again. He considered holding it up before he lost interest in the idea, opting out for a new one. He draped the blanket over the headrests of the van, concealing us from the windshield and front window view. There was only a sliver of light coming through, and if one looked in, all they’d see was the tops of our heads.

“Come over.” I patted the empty space on the bed, and Josh quickly sat down next to me. He leaned into my side, sliding his shoulder past my own in such a slow fashion that I knew he was testing the waters. Trying to get away with laying down. “Not yet, troublemaker.” I laughed, pushing him upright. “Pull your shirt off.”

“For sex purposes… or?” I slapped his shoulder.

“For the scrapes on you. Behave.”

“Fine.” He pulled his shirt off and tossed it onto the floor. I began to change while he slipped his shorts off and got into his sweatpants. Once we were both re-dressed, I moved Josh to the floor of the van and opened one of the cupboards below the counter. I grabbed a washcloth and the bottle of hand soap we had, using one of the bottles of water to wet the cloth.

“Tomorrow morning we are finding a place to shower.” I spoke as I prepped the cloth.

“You think there’s shower-houses around here?”

“Probably.” I answered as I put a few pumps of the soap on the cloth, lathering it before I carefully pressed the cloth to his shoulder. I let him hiss through the initial burn before I gently rubbed the raw skin. “But the sun will have set by the time we even find them and that’s not safe.” Like the many true crime documentaries and podcasts we listened to.

“That makes sense.” Josh watched as I worked, using the dry half of the towel to wipe the water and soap from his shoulder before I repeated the process with the scrape on his chest.

“Thanks, beautiful.” Josh whispered as I dried the last scrape, tossing the towel into the sink while I put the soap back.

“Anytime, songbird.” I pushed his frizzy curls back from his forehead, laughing softly at the state of his hair.

“If we open the windows we can catch the sunset from the bed.” Josh slowly stood, walking maybe two steps before he collapsed into the surprisingly comfortable mattress. He reached upward to open the blinds opposite of the pillows. A perfect view.

“I can’t believe I ever ripped on van life.” I whispered as I followed him into bed. I waited for Josh to get properly situated before I laid down beside him.

“I can’t believe you had to talk me into this.”

“You seemed like you needed it. And I know road tripping is something you’ve always been interested in.”

“I couldn’t be happier right now. With you, and this beautiful van, and the wilderness. And I get to capture it all on camera.”

“You should teach me how to take some of those beautiful photos sometime.” If it meant getting a glimpse into his creative world, I would have loved to learn. I shimmied into Josh’s side, resting my head on his chest. I pressed a kiss to his skin, enjoying the warmth he radiated.

“I’d be delighted to.” He shifted his upper body away from my own only for a moment, moving his arm up to wrap beneath my shoulders, pulling me further into his body. I rolled onto my side and draped a leg over his own, placing my head on his chest again.

“How about a normal one though?” I suggested, glancing back toward the counter to grab my phone. I had to stretch to reach it, but once I had it, I opened the camera and raised the device above us. “Smile, J.” I spoke in a sing-song tone, laughing at the over exaggerated smile he gave me. I snapped a few photos with the flash unexpectedly on, but I had no interest in taking more. They didn’t need to look good, I simply wanted a few.

“Oh, oh,” Josh reached for my phone. I quickly handed it over. “Let’s get one of the sunset.” He turned the phone sideways and flipped the camera around. How he found the straightest angle, I’d never know, but he snapped a few photos and looked through them all before handing the phone back. “Okay.. now we can relax.” I set my phone on the mattress beside us.

“Thanks for your permission, sarge.” I teased softly, relishing in the way his chest rose and fell with his sporadic laughter. As the silence settled, I closed my eyes. It had been a great first day. An easygoing one, but a perfect opener to a month full of travel and sightseeing.

“I can’t wait to see the world with you.” I whispered as I rested a hand on his chest by my head. I felt his own hand come down on top of my own.

“The whole month is ours, baby.” I smiled, comforted by the feeling of his lips pressing a kiss to my head.

The whole month was ours.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

I Am Blackened Bones (Part 22)

She wishes that it didn’t hurt so much that the spirit always seems to be around for the joyful moments while she comes to the surface when things are too stressful for her spirit self to handle. 

“We have to figure out some way to get rid of this spirit curse.” Zuko declares. Azula supposes that his inclination to state the obvious is a decent enough opener. Lackluster and dull but it does the job. “We need to get you back to the Fire Nation.” And she certainly can’t disagree with it. “Any ideas?” He finishes.

And they are all looking at her. She supposes that she could play clueless, as though it is the spirit here and not she. But she would like to bask in her limited time at the forefront. “I deal in battle tactics and political strategy. Spiritual matters never really piqued my interest.” 

“Well have you tried to merge with your other half?” Aang asks.

Truth be told she is afraid to try. 

Afraid of what she might become if she does. She is so divorced from her spirit self, their personalities have grown so different. To blend them together now…? Somehow she feels as though her domineering personality still wouldn’t be enough to snuff out the parts of her that the spirit curse has created. 

“I have, yes.” She lies. “We’re not exactly compatible.”

“Not compatible?” Aang frowns. “You are two halves of the same whole, you’re meant to fit together.”

“Even if they do manage to merge, that still won’t solve the problem of firebending hurts her.” Sokka points out.

Katara clears her throat.  “Actually, I had an idea about that.” 

“Let’s hear it.” Zuko says.

“The Spirit Oasis. If that water can bring Aang back to life, then it should be able to help with this. We can go back to the north and see if Chief Arnook will  let us take her there.” 

“Oh I’m sure that they will be just delighted to have me.” Azula tugs at her coat and folds her arms across her chest.

“I feel like they’ll be more unhappy to see Zuko than you.” Katara replies. “They have history with him and they’re still sore about it.” She pauses to bite her lower lip. “Which is why I think that we should drop him off at home along the way.” 

“Yes.” Azula agrees.“That way he can relieve Mai of the throne and I won’t have to deal with his chatter.” Rather she won’t have to fret over him witnessing the humiliating and awkward task of her trying to navigate who she will become. 

“Deal with my chatter? I’ve been nice to you!?”

Azula shrugs. “Nice people can be annoying.” She pauses. “Usually they are the most annoying people. But I suppose that I will…” miss having him around? No, he doesn’t need to know that. “We will have plenty of time to catch up when I get back, Zuzu. And it won’t be interrupted by a spirit.” The spirit that is growing antsy. Itching for her turn on the surface. 

“Okay but what about the whole tortured screaming whenever Azula gets close to Firebending ordeal?” Toph asks. “We couldn’t even land the first time around and you guys want to fly into the heart of Caldera City to drop Zuko off?”

“It’s the most efficient way to go.” Azula admits. “I will just have to bear it for a few minutes.” A few lengthy agonizing minutes at that. But she won’t let herself become a burden. She’d rather weather the violent burning sensation. At least that will fade; humiliations and disappointments linger longer. 

“I don’t want to have to do that to you, Azula. It was…it was really hard to watch.”

“Then look away?” Azula suggests. 

“It was hard to listen to too.” Toph says.

Azula sighs, partially resigning herself to becoming something of an inconvenience. “We can drop Zuko off at the Royal Plaza. It is close to the capital but will require some travel. Unless things have changed since I’ve been gone, he should have plenty of Imperial Guards to accompany him the rest of the way.”

“Alright, we’ll give that a try.” Katara replies. “But I still don’t like it.” 

Azula supposes that she can take solace in that they don’t enjoy watching her suffer. She, however, isn’t particularly fond of having Zuzu leave her alone with his friends. As much as she hates to admit it, Sokka worries her. He resents that she is here. Really all he would have to do to change that is wait until the spirit comes back and…

Azula cuts herself short. It doesn’t pay to dwell on that which might not even happen, she had learned that much on the day of Sozin’s Comet. 

“Well then. We have a plan now and we won’t just be wasting time here.” Azula concludes. “We’ll leave tomorrow.” Although there is a part of Azula that wishes that she could have been the one to go sledding and chase penguins. It is a small and foolish part of her. A childish part of her that she is curiously certain doesn’t come from the spirit.

“I was hoping to spend at least one more day here.” Katara admits. “I’ve missed Gran-Gran and our dad was going to take Sokka and I on a fishing trip with him.” She pauses. “You can come along if you’d like.”

Azula swallows. “It might not be me who shows up.” The notion puts a sorrowful tickle in her tummy. 

“We’d be happy to have either one of you. Right, Sokka?” 

“Yeah.” He grumbles. “Sure.” 

He could have fooled her.

.oOo.

It is growing harder to tell who she is speaking with, if Katara didn’t know any better, she would say that it was spirit Azula. But her enthusiasm, though unmistakably present, is stifled and somewhat repressed. A composed, poised sort of curiosity and joy that only the Azula that they have always known could convey. 

Perhaps it is a good thing that it is growing harder to tell them apart. They may well be merging with one another on their own accord. Maybe all that they needed was time. Time and no interference.

“Watch your step, princess.” Hakoda says as Azula steps up to the canoe. He extends a hand.

“I know how boats work.” She replies bluntly and Katara knows for certain that it is Azula here this time.

Hakoda, good natured as always, chuckles. Azula does take his hand. “Katara never wanted me to help her either, she was always a big girl…”

“Dad!” 

“And she always fell right into the water.” He pauses. “She did that the last time she and Sokka came for a visit.” 

“Dad!” She exclaims louder. 

“And Sokka tends to topple the boat. So be prepared for that.” 

Sokka takes his turn shouting, “dad!”

“Well I can’t wait for that.” Azula grumbles. She gracefully steps onto the boat, applying her weight in just the right places. Begrudgingly Katara admits to herself that she needs to work on her boat boarding skills. 

Hakoda hands her a paddle. 

She stares at it, “what’s this.” 

“It’s called a paddle.” Sokka props his arms up on the canoe’s wall.

Azula rolls her eyes. “I know what it is. I just hope that you all aren’t expecting me to use it.”

“There are four of us.” Hakoda says. “An even amount of paddlers is always better, makes things easier.” Reluctantly Azula dips her paddle into the water only for Hakoda to say, “not yet, I’ve got to push the canoe further away from the shoreline first.”

Azula’s face flushes slightly as she pulls the paddle back out of the water. Katara stifles a laugh that she knows the princess would take offense to. The spirit would have laughed along with her. Maybe one day Azula will too. She thinks that it would to Azula well to lighten up a little. And it would do the spirit well to be more serious about things from time to time. 

“Alright, you can start paddling now!” Hakoda calls as he climbs back into the boat.

“I bet I can catch more fish than you, dad!” Sokka declares. 

“Now that just isn’t true.” Hakoda argues. “You haven’t caught more fish than me since we started taking fishing trips.” 

“Well I’ll get the biggest one.” Sokka returns. 

“You haven’t managed that yet either.” Hakoda replies smugly.

By the end of it, the both of them are disappointed to find that Azula—spirit Azula, no less—has caught a bigger fish than the both of them. She had only given all three of them heart attacks when she’d shouted, “oh look, there’s one!”, and lept right into the water.

Katara can’t pinpoint exactly when spirit Azula had taken over. Just that she is looking at all of them with sad, pitiful golden eyes as though they are to blame for her being a soaking, shivering mess.

Katara sighs and wraps her own coat around Azula. She has a better tolerance for the cold anyways. Not that it matters, her coat is soaked too. Azula snuggles into the coath and clings onto her fish; she won’t let them pry it away from her. If Katara had to guess, she would say that spirit Azula had taken over at the precise moment that Azula had spotted the fish. Taken by a primal urge to hunt and gather, she’d thrown herself to the front of Azula’s mind and reawakened with a startling suddenness. 

“At least I wasn’t the one to topple the canoe this time.” Sokka says for himself. 

All four of them have a hearty laugh. 

Katara likes to think that somewhere in there, in the privacy of her own mind where they can’t see her, Azula is laughing too.

[arthurs-ficz]

Breakfast Morning

You are Jane's sister. The day that Jesse was about to rent out the apartment, your dad wanted to spend time with Jane due to unknown reasons. You just woke up to a note reading ‘Hey, ______. I won’t be here today, I'll be with dad. If anyone comes to see the apartment just remember to organise all the papers that they’ll need, you know the drill.

 Xxx Jane.’

You were a bit nervous to say the least. You hoped you wouldn’t mess anything up for Jane 

or your dad and that everything would go okay.

It certainly went better than okay.

You and Jesse have been living together in the apartment for a little over a couple of months, and he’s been the sweetest to you. You both seemed to click as soon as you both met. He told you about Mr. White, the whole business he’s in, and yet you still stayed with him. He really fell for you when he realised that you’d be there for him no matter the circumstances.

The current time was now 7:03, and you felt tight arms wrapping around your waist from behind. Your eyes started to adjust slightly to the lighting in the room, and you slowly started to wake up from your slumber.

“Yo babe, you awake?” You could hear your boyfriend tiredly say, as he held you even tighter in his embrace. 

“Mhm…” You say, rubbing your eyes with your hands.

“How’d you sleep?”  He asks, laying a few kisses on your neck, making you shiver.

“I slept well, especially with you holding me like this…” You say, with your lips curving into a sweet smile.

You turn around to face him fully. You can see a sweet smile on his face as he looks at you with his piercing blue eyes.

“That’s cuz you deserve it babe.”  He whispers into your ear, nibbling a bit on your neck.

He sits up a little bit, now seeming to be more awake.

“You wanna get some breakfast? I’m really hungry.”

You sit up with him, fixing your messy hair a little before replying to him.

“Sure, what were you thinking of eating?”

He pauses for a second before replying to your question.

“How’s about some breakfast sandwiches from McDonald’s? Those smack.” He smiles, helping you get in a more comfortable position.

“I’ll go get dressed n we’ll head out there if you’re down?”

You grin at him before standing on your feet and having a long stretch. “I’m definitely down.”

Jesse goes to  kiss you once more, before grabbing his pants and stepping into them.

“Alright, I’ll be right back.” He smiles, heading to the bathroom to get dressed and ready.

Soon enough, Jesse comes out wearing his yellow hoodie and baggy jeans and waits for you near the front door.  “Ready?”

“Yeah!” You say, putting on a little cute hat before rushing to the front door of the apartment.

Jesse smirks and holds the front door open for you.  “Go on ahead, babe.”

You head out of the house, as your boyfriend steps out, closing the door and locking it before following you.

:P i love jesse