#and knows that things are ever shifting. why plan when you can hit Real Hard

[blorbobutworse]

Hey guys,,,,guess whos not dead?!

Teen Dad Logan :)

Or, I suppose more accurately, Young Dad Logan. And by adjacency, Uncle Dad Victor.

This turned out to be one of my largest pieces of writing ever Bee-Tee-Dubs so its going to be under this to not Kill You All:

So in this AU they meet when they're 10 and 11, Jimmy just out of foster care after they found out he's a mutant, and Vic a few weeks after murdering his Father.

At first, it's honestly Jimmy showing Victor a lot of things. Simple things, like how to forage and how to scent, but it's all...quiet. Jimmy already carries a sense of shame for his ferocity that Vic never enjoys. So he draws the kid into fights, helps him laugh until his face is red with laughter instead of shame. He learns about him, and in turn Jimmy learns about him. Happy enough kids until things turned south. One was locked up and the other ran away. They escaped and found each other. It was meant to be.

Victor gives him his new name. Jimmy hasn't felt like His in a long time and the first time Vic calls him Logan, he beams.

Vic still calls him Jimmy when he's scared, but it's their little secret.

Anyways, they stay rough and tumble until The developers in the Weapon X project find them, aged 14 and 15 respectively. It's Victor's idea that they stay. Logan, for all his desires to settle down, feels chafed by the military, but Vic sees through that, see's what they could be, in the future. See's him and his Runt living free after serving, what's a few years as lab rats if they get all their adult life? What's being looked at like a monster when he's allowed to be a monster and still get schooling? Logan doesn't think any of these things, but when Vic nods, he does too.

They're only allowed to be together for the first three months, and then their forced apart, to 'reduce codependency'. They last two years without each other, and when they're reunited...things are different.

Creed has grown into his role, with each murder proving that his dad wasn't special, he's always been meant for this, how dare Anyone Try to stop him. He's become an Animal. Sabretooth.

And Wolverine....is Wolverine now. But doesn't take long before Vic realizes somethings wrong. Wolverine glances at him, but there's no glint of recognition in his eyes. As Creed starts to question him, he thinks it's a clone. So he Kills It.

Its only the third time Logan revives and puts his claws through Creeds chest that Creed realizes it's his runt. Still, being forgotten stings, being ignored stings worse, and there's a lot more blood shed before the guards are able to separate the two.

Safe to say they butt heads a lot more. Vic goads him often, word for word the way he used to, and like a house of cards, Wolverine always folds. The only times he seems to come back to himself for a moment, are the moments after Creed's killed him, and he's just waking up. He'll get a look on his face, one Vic recognizes. He's seen it a hundred of times before, even if the runt always tried to hide it:

Fear. Exhaustion.

They never talk. Victor pets his hair as Logan's throat is rapidly sewing itself back together, or Logan rumbling under Vic's body as his puncture wounds close. In those moments, Logan Remembers.

...

It all starts to fall apart when one Logan Howlett, at the fresh age of 18, is chosen to become Weapon X.

Creed sees red. This was HIS goal, His to earn, that stupid brat doesn't even want to be here, Logan doesn't even remember why he's-

He doesn't even remember why he came here in the first place.

But Sabretooth is smart. He figures out when, and where, they're going to do the operation. And obviously, he bursts in.

As he does, he overhears a Commander noting that they should 'wipe wolverines mind clean one last time, to make sure he's only obedient to them.

And that is First Strike.

Victor lashes out, taking down a doctor and a guard before anyone can blink. But his noise distracts the surgeons and other doctors carefully monitoring The Wolverine's Adamantium intake, and one of them nudges their controls in their scramble to get away, pushing significantly more onto his skeleton than originally planned.

Victor stops when he hears screaming.

Logan hears....nothing. He knows the procedure is going to begin, but he doesn't know when. When the burning starts, he goes to that little place in his head he pretends he doesn't have. He sees flashes of Creed's face, snarling and smiling, and he feels...safe. He sees white, and red hair and...hears yelling. His eyes open, and immediately close as salt water rushes into them. He breathes unsteadily through his

The water stops draining but the burning doesn't stop. Worse, his head feels like it's being torn apart, a feeling he remembers but can't name. And suddenly, nothing matters because,

Sabretooth is calling him Jimmy and why why WHY DOES EVERYTHING HURT OW OW OW OW OW OW Victor help please please plEASE PLEASE VICTOR VIC-

...

Safe to say the adamantium causes even more psychological damage to them.

There is one single benefit: The Memory Adjustment failed. In fact, it failed so bad that Creed, for three whole days, get's Logan to himself.

They don't do much. Logan wakes up and launches himself at Vic, legs collapsing as his ligaments struggle to accustom themselves to the weight of his new bones. He's in constant pain, mostly just looking at Vic with big, sad brown eyes until he lies back down with him on the shitty Hospital ordered bed. It creaks under them, but thankfully never gives.

When they do talk, they don't talk about the memories. About Wolverine gutting Sabretooth to prove a point, about Sabretooth biting out his spinal chord, about Wolverine ripping out his teeth in claws. None of it matters. They know it can't last. Creed didn't plan, and Logan is too weak to think, not that he does much of that in the first place.

After those days of clarity post operation, Logan is wiped clean. And for the next year, it's back to normal. For Wolverine at least.

But of course, Logan has to beat him to the punch. Literally.

Around a month after the one year anniversary of his Surgery, Wolverine comes Bursting through the training rooms, with twenty guards hot on his trail. Sabretooth, a Predator, Obviously follows. Logan runs and runs and runs, and eventually rips the door of a particular room, to reveal...

an eerily large room filled with tubes. There's wires and things being suspended in liquid, and at first, Victor can't comprehend what he's looking at. By the time he reads 'X-02', Doner Wolverine, Logan's already broken three of the tubes with his claws, uncaring of the thick glass cutting him open in retribution for being shattered.

people go flying, and as they hit equipment the room itself begins to collapse, separating Sabretooth from Wolverine. Wolverine continues through the rooms, ensuring that there's nothing deeper inside that can help them make more of him. He has enough nightmares. Sabretooth stays back to help finish the job. All those tubes don't destroy themselves, you know?

He finds a room full of his samples, and a woman in a chair. A woman with a bullet in her neck instead of her head. Poor thing had probably gotten caught in between him and the guards. But why was she just sitting-

The woman has a baby in her arms, tubes still attached. He growls for a moment, moving to finishes her off, but freezes when she and she's groans.

"Laura...Laura..."

Logan looks at her little beady eyes, mousy brown hair, and knows...she's his.

Before he's even thought about it she's cradled in his arms, evidently all wrong because she starts to wail and Vic skids in, shoulder denting the doorframe as he stops and stares at the scene in front of him.

The woman gives one final shudder, and her head lulls. Dead.

Still, there's no time to think. Victor hears thuds getting closer to the room, and as he looks to his right he realizes there's only one way out. The window. Oh well.

with a swear, he lifts Logan by the back of his jacket and gives him a shove, and his back goes strait through the paneling and out of the fourth story. Victor whoops, and follows him down. By the time he's already made his much more elegant landing, Logan is groaning and cussing him out as much as his winded lungs will let him, which is a surprising amount. Still, Vic scruffs him again and sets him on his feet, and nods in the direction of the woods.

"Lets go"

And they do.

They end up being surrounded by the X-Men somewhere in Maine and are "Invited" to Stay at Xavier's school. Logan decides for them this time. A house, a promise that the government will be dealt with for them, and that he can get all of his memories back are very good motivators. And they an finish their education.

Victor actually...enjoys classes. He likes being smart, and it's easy. Logan does Charter school. He had lasted exactly a week in public education before deciding that if he had to deal with one more idiotic comment from one of those stupid fucking kids he was going to-

Well. His words were Not Child Friendly, so he made sure to cover his kid's ears. Besides, he's bonded with fellow teen Rogue and preteen Jubilee and Kitty (his daughters) like little sisters, but he never really settles unless he's with his Kid. His Laura.

He had to fight to keep her, a young unstable mutant like him was not the ideal parent, but for the first two months, she sobbed if anyone else held her, terrible screeches, and would reach for him to the point of falling out of peoples arms. And, he had imprinted on her to. He swore he could tell when she was happy or uncomfortable before she could, would burp her or flip her back onto her back before she got fed up with tummy time.

Vic is Terrified of touching her but refuses to admit it. He carefully runs his finger down her pudgy little cheek, in awe of her soft skin against his knuckle, when she moves suddenly, and she attempts to nuzzle her way into his palm. He, obligingly, opens his hand. When one of his claws scrapes her hair, he freezes, waiting for her to cry out. Instead, she burbles happily, honey brown eyes giving him long, slow blinks.

She likes his head scratches the best.

Logan sometimes falls asleep with her on his stomach on the couch, leaving Victor to carry him AND his clingy baby back to bed, the crib next to them so Laura can still grab onto Logans finger. They sleep together now, in a nest of blankets and pillows, Logans hand always off the bed but still somehow still touching Vic, as if to make sure he's still there.

Their codependency is back full swing, and the only time they can be reliably separated is when Vic goes to school, because he goes with Scotty, and the Boy Scout would never let anything happen to another mutant, even if that mutant makes him want to shoot him with his laser-beam full power just to see what would happen.

Thankfully, because of Victors presence, the Mind Adjustment does actually work, but it leaves Logan questioning his parallel memories for years. In the process they realize that...Victors memories have been tampered with too.

But that, is a story for another time.

[halemerry]

On the Bookshop, the Concept of Home, and Going Too Fast

So, weirdly enough, I want to start with a scene that has very little to do with the actual Bookshop: 1967. We get Crowley planning a heist and being interrupted by an angel clutching a thermos full of holy water and promising that someday, maybe, they could let themselves have the life they want together. And we get that line. You know the one. You go too fast for me.

This one line of dialogue went a very long way to cementing the fanon perception of their roles in the relationship as we've largely been shown them - Crowley gently pushes and gives Aziraphale space to slowly feel comfortable setting his own boundaries or adjusting his worldview. And I’m not saying this is wrong - it’s definitely what we're primed to expect in their pattern - but I do think it ignores a fairly common variation of their pattern. See, sometimes, Aziraphale is actually the faster of the two of them - he's just not quite as flashy about it.

Crowley very rarely actually does any pushing without getting some kind of signal from Aziraphale first. Aziraphale, whether consciously or otherwise, quite frequently is the player making the first move on their metaphorical chess board. We see that he's the first to push for them to work together in the story of Job. We see that he's the first to invite Crowley to socialize together in Rome. We see as early as the Globe that Aziraphale has discovered and weaponized how to ask Crowley for things with a simple look and that Crowley has gotten very good at reading those asks. We actually see this dynamic in real time as Aziraphale drops signals to Crowley on how he should form his deception of the angels in the Book of Job. Even the Arrangement itself is something Crowley doesn't push for until he knows explicitly that Aziraphale isn't happy with the terms of his work. In other words, Aziraphale sets a cue, Crowley picks up on it and adapts.

So what does this have to do with the Bookshop?

Well. The Bookshop is a prime example of Aziraphale getting there faster. Because the bookshop, whether he knows it at the time or not, is absolutely a nest.

Nesting is behavior typically associated with birds, but is actually something lots of animals do. Even humans exhibit this behavior to some degree. It’s functionally gathering a bunch of stuff to create a safe, comfortable place, typically constructed for the purpose of raising children or attracting a mate. In other words: the creation of a home.

Because the Bookshop is their home. It is their safe space and sanctuary. It is a space for them to meet and just Exist without worrying about being seen. A home base where they can just Be themselves. It’s a constant in a world ever shifting around them. It’s a place for them to come back to. A place that will always be waiting for them both. And a place that they both have to be able to check in on each other. This is why the Bookshop burning hit as hard as it did. Their home was destroyed in fire and flame. And they both know it. Every expression and shift in tone when they talk about it speaks to the gravity of that loss - even if it was only temporary. And I think it was always intended to be just that on some level from the very start.

So timeline wise the closest scene we know about to Aziraphale starting his plans for the shop is the scene at the Globe. This takes place in 1601 and features the two of them being very conscious of being seen and the potential consequences thereof. They pick going to the Globe expecting it to be busy enough to blend into the crowd and Aziraphale's objection re the Arrangement has shifted onto the idea of Hell destroying Crowley.

It is less than a century later that Aziraphale buys the land that will eventually become the bookshop. In 1630 he purchases the land with his own money. That’s his money. Money that he made mostly the human way. Although this space would eventually become an embassy to Heaven it was made via earthly means. It’s his, not Heaven’s. Less than 30 years after we first see them express concern for how dangerous it would be to be seen Aziraphale starts making a space for them to retreat to.

And he does it slowly. He spends decades slowly buying up the land in the area. In fact, it’s nearly 200 years before the Bookshop will be ready to open. By the time we hit the Bastille, he’s clearly decided on a bookshop and has clearly told Crowley all about it. They’re comfortable with each other and already trust each other to a frankly absurd degree. Aziraphale risks discorporation on the sure thing that Crowley will know he’s in danger and come save him just because he wants to see him. In other words, by the time they’re at the point where they’re making elaborate excuses to see each other, Aziraphale is less than a decade away from naming the home he has been carefully making for himself A.Z. Fell and Co.

The and Co is important here for obvious reasons. We all know there’s only one person that it could be referring to. Even as Aziraphale is still denying that they are friends, he is plastering the idea that they are a unit all over the front door of his home long before even he realizes that what he is feeling for Crowley is love.

This is part of why the conversation about ‘our car, our bookshop’ comes much easier to Aziraphale. And it is an easier jump for him to make. He's the one that brings it up and he does it quite casually. He's testing the waters a bit, but is confident the conversation will go his way. Of course we have a car. Just as we have a bookshop.

The thing is I don't think Crowley ever really got that memo on a conscious level. We can see his relationship to the shop shift in the way he moves around the shop shifts over time. The earliest we see him in the shop itself is 1941. It's night time which gives the whole thing a bit of clandestine air, which is fitting for where they're at on the timeline. He stays mostly in one spot in his shots here, sort of hovering about the shop not getting too close to Aziraphale but not drifting out on his own either. He also stays as close to sitting normally as we tend to see Crowley ever sit and his glasses stay on. Which that's not to say he doesn't relax at all. He takes off his hat and make himself comfortable and, most telling, doesn't bother with fixing his glasses when they slip off his nose. He's comfortable and familiar here but it's in a strained sort of distant way. There's trust there, for sure, but he is clearly a visitor in this space.

The next we see of Crowley in the shop is the mid 2000s. It's still night time. His glasses stay on until he's drunk and the he takes them off of his own accord. He moves about the shop, touching various objects and leaning against various pillars and shelves and furniture. He's more comfortable here, but he still he needs a bit of alcohol in his system to get there.

We then see him briefly in the daytime after they realize they have lost the Anti-Christ. The glasses stay on here and alcohol is notably present. And then we do not see him in the shop again until it is burning. All and all most our shots of the bookshop from season one are Aziraphale alone moving about his space. We know Crowley's there enough that his smell lingers in the place, but we don't actually see that much of it beyond those first tom scenes.

Season 2 couldn't be more different in this regard.

Crowley moves in and out of the bookshop as it suits him. At one point he wanders off in the middle of Aziraphale zoning out in a memory without bothering to shake Aziraphale out of it. We even get him doing what is functionally a bird courtship dance right here in the middle of the shop. Aziraphale in turn takes active steps to get Crowley into the shop whether it's leaving him to watch it while he's gone or suggesting that Crowley likes waiting in the shop for him - a thing Crowley does not outright deny beyond objecting to Gabriel's presence there.

And we get a lot of Crowley in the shop this season- both with and without Aziraphale. And regardless of Aziraphale's presence, Crowley's behavior doesn't really shift too much. He's moving around the shop far more that we've ever seen him historically and he spends half that time sprawling on the furniture like it's his.

And, of course, nearly every time we see him enter the Bookshop to engage with Aziraphale, the glasses come off.

He lets his face stay exposed in the shop, even eventually in front of Gabriel. The only other place we've ever seen him take his sunglasses off by his own choice are in his own flat or when he's trying to make a point about his own nature. Even when he's engaging with Hell, so long as he's not grabbed unexpectedly, he has them on. Crowley wears them around people well before sunglasses had technically even been invented. But not here. Not anymore. Not in this story that is framing the bookshop as a literal safe haven.

Even the palette for the Bookshop this season speaks volumes. Now Season 1 in general is a little grayer than Season 2 (this is in part because of the general aesthetics of when they were made and in part because of the difference in tone between the two seasons) and it's very very noticeable in the shop itself. Here's some side by sides of similar areas of the shops between two seasons, I bet you could guess which was which based on the colors themselves.

The palette season 1 suits Aziraphale just fine. It's more neutral tones like he tends to favor on himself. It's still cozy but in a dusty sort of way. The palette of season 2 is warmer. Less white and more orange to the point where even the pillars holding up the bookshop are more vibrant. There's more natural light and we see it more often during the day. It's a warm, shared, space now. They both get plenty of use out of it.

And Crowley now looks like he fits there too. The shift in his palette makes him feel in conversation with the bookshop in a way his season 1 red can't quite mesh with the more washed out palette. I won't repost all these images I was going feral over last night but you can find a lot of shots of him in the shop windows here that really show the ways he works with the colors of the shop.

So why hasn't Crowley moved in officially if he's practically done so already?

Because this is their whole problem in a nutshell. It's a prime example of the way their pattern doesn't work anymore. It's not built for a world like this. Its built for a world where they have to hide and make excuses. And while being free of that is objectively good it also means they have none of that to hide behind anymore. Subtext doesn't have to be subtext anymore and that can be as scary as it can be exciting. Freedom from things like Heaven and Hell can be hard when that's all you've ever known. This is all new territory for them. The meaning of what home can be to them shifts a lot in a space where they can more or less do as they like.

Aziraphale doesn't need to be indirect about what he wants anymore but can't quite figure out how to be more direct in the asking. He's ready but can't quite parse how to say that out loud. Or why he would even need to when he's been saying it quietly for more than a century. He built a shop full of human knowledge into a safe haven for the demon that fell for asking questions. He invited Crowley into the shop on day one, just like everything else he loves. He's already left the door open for Crowley to come and go as he pleases and as far as he's concerned Crowley has already half moved in anyway. From his perspective he's already set a large blinking neon sign up that says 'this is your home too'.

Crowley, for his part, can't read this cue. Not without thinking about going to fast or starting a battle with his own sense of self worth. He's been in keep them alive mode for so long I'm not even sure he really knows how to let himself have needs outside of that on any conscious sort of level. There's nowhere to push if you don't have an endgame. And even if he did have one the last explicit boundary he had established by Aziraphale was telling him to slow down.

But I do think they both realize this. Crowley grumbles about what's the point from the start of his first scene and of course eventually does take a shot at expressing his wants. Aziraphale's fixation on the Ball comes into play here too. He says they allow humans to realize they have misunderstood each other and that they're actually in love. Which is just flat out their whole problem summarized for us nice and neatly.

They're not understanding each other. They haven't had the conversations they need to have. But they are trying. They still trying, even if they don't understand the ways each other is doing so. And at the end of this season even as they are separated again, the nest still stands. And, maybe the next time we get to see them, they'll decide it's in good hands right now and start building another nest together in in South Downs, but, no matter what, the shop is still home. And even if it is a place they have lost each other twice, there is no doubt in my mind that it is a place they will find each other again.

[thebitchesterbrothers]

Remember this?

I couldn’t stop thinking about about it, so …

I wrote something. Here it is.

_____________________________________________

Hob was waiting at the bar for about forty minutes now for Dream to finally show up for his shift.

It was a friday night and the inn was already packed with party loving students.

His employees were busy waiting tables and handing out beer at the bar…except for one employee. Dream.

When Hob had reopened the inn, after completely renovating it, he had hired Dream as a bartender right away. He had experience, his drinks were amazing and a hit with the students and it didn’t hurt that he was easy on the eyes too. Not that that was the reason Hob hired him in the first place but hey, Hob had eyes.

Eyes that just loved watching Dream shake his drinks and look bored while doing it.

Before starting to work at the inn Dream was working for an expensive restaurant in a posh part of London. Hob should’ve been suspicious why a guy like Dream would give up that job for the inn.

Now he was convinced that Dream must’ve been close to being fired for his missing work ethics at his old job.

He was constantly late for his shifts without any explanation or excuse for his boss. He drank his fair share of shots while working. He went home an hour before his shift ended without saying anything to anybody.

He ignored customers he didn’t like. He smoked cigarettes in the kitchen and weed behind the building.

But still Hob couldn’t bring himself to fire him.

Every time he planned to confront him and have a serious talk with him … he just couldn’t bring himself to actually do it.

He would make up random excuses in his head for Dream's behavior. Maybe he was going through a hard time? Maybe he didn’t know better? Maybe he wasn’t feeling comfortable around his coworkers?

And despite his problematic attitude the customers loved him. They were all too happy to spend their hard earned money on fancy and more expensive drinks instead of cheap beer just so they had the chance to talk to the hot bartender.

Dream would gift some of them with a playful smile and get a ridiculous amount of tips in return.

It drove Hob absolutely insane. It drove him insane that he would do the exact same thing to make Dream smile at him like that.

He was well aware of his stupid crush on his employee. He knew it wasn’t very professional.

He was aware that this crush was the real reason he had not fired Dream yet. He wasn’t proud of himself, thank you very much.

Dream was in his twenties and more beautiful than anyone Hob had ever seen. He had that mysterious aura and eyes to get lost in.

Meanwhile Hob was a history professor in his thirties who spent too much time in his own bar ogling his employee. He was quite a few years older than the object of his desire and not nearly as attractive as Dream. He never would have a chance with him and he had accepted that months ago. It still hurt sometimes.

Not that he knew what exactly Dreams' type was. Women? Men? Both?

As much as everyone flirted with his bartender, Dream never took anyone home as far as Hob had noticed.

„Nice of you to finally show up, Dream!“, one of his waitresses interrupted Hobs thoughts.

Dream had just come through the back door, tying a black apron around his slim hips, looking bored and not apologetic at all.

„Dream! A word?“, Hob turned around towards his office without waiting for an answer. As expected, Dream followed slowly, clearly not in a hurry.

Hob sat on the edge of his cluttered desk, crossing his arms, watching Dream closing the door behind him. Did he lock it?

Before he could say anything, Dream beat him to it.

„What is it, boss?“ God damn, that voice.

„Dream, you’re almost an hour late. Everyone was waiting for you. You do whatever the hell you want. I should fire you, you know“, Hob sighed.

At that Dream smirked, stepping closer to Hobs desk and between his outstretched legs.

„Yes, yes you should. So tell me…why haven’t you fired me yet? Hmm, Hob? Why do I still have my job?“

Hob didn’t have a satisfying answer for him. Dream came even closer, his legs touching the inner side of Hob's clothed inner thighs. He could still feel the warmth of the other man through his jeans. How was he supposed to think like that?

„Hob…I mean boss…I think we both know why I still have my job. You just enjoy watching me behind the bar a bit too much, don’t you?“

Oh how Hob hated this arrogant little prick. How he hated that he was right.

„Oh Hob“, Dream smiled and tucked a strand of Hob's hair behind his ear. If Hob would just tilt his head a little to the left his nose would touch Dreams slightly stubbled cheek.

„Dream, this is highly inappropriate…“ Hob managed to force out. He should stop this. He should push him away. He was the boss, Dream was his employee.

Dream‘s eyes crinkled with mirth and raised his dark eyebrows.

„Very inappropriate, yes. Seems like you have to fire me after all, boss.“

Before Hob could react to that, Dream had cupped his face in his hand, his other surprisingly strong arm snaking around Hob‘s waist, pulling him closer into his chest before their lips met in a kiss that made Hob lose every single thought he just had.

Dreams' lips tasted of rum and irresponsibility and Hob decided that he would never get enough of it.

‚I never was a good boss anyway‘, he thought to himself before pulling a laughing Dream up the stairs into his flat. Dream was late anyway, what difference would a few more hours make?

[onmyyan]

Been playing so so much baldurs gate and wanted to submit DND considerations for your OCS, please share your thoughts on the vibes:

Caspian: cleric all the way baby. can hit things real hard AND won't let shit hurt a loved one, but if it does get past him, he'll patch you up <3 healing touch on darling so he can cradle their face all lovey dovey. Could also see a paladin, but maybe one with a very unique understanding of his oath to protect others. Maybe even secretly broke the oath but doesn't care; if he's sworn to protect life, surely the oath should understand that he WAS protecting darlings life by violently ending another one?

Gabe: barbarian, obvs. himbo energy, big and tall, flies into a rage when need be, likes and enjoys violence with as little armor as possible. Tries to drink everyone under the table in every town and usually wins, but also usually ends up in a bar fight when his drunk competition ends up a little too mouthy abt darling for his liking. Will throw darling over his shoulder when they need to run

Ricky: wizard pondering his orb but in the snarkiest way possible towards everyone but his darling. "Are you that fucking stupid??? Are you illiterate?? Why get in the direct and literal line of fire when I'm casting. You deserve that scar" vs "if I ever accidentally singe even a hair on your head, I'm going to throw myself off a cliff". Likes to read to you in your tent bc it's "easier to focus", but just thinks you're so cute when you're falling asleep listening to him <3

Marcos: rogue, baby!!! He's stealing shit off anyone that annoys him, pulling darling out of the way of traps and into cozy little nooks with him while the others scramble out of the way. The party gets stopped at a toll house and he pickpockets the guard, then undoes their trousers and ties their boot laces together for good measure.

Manny: warlock but some real freaky shit, eldritch horror type beat. He's flickering at the periphery of your vision and you SWEAR he's got tentacles coming out of his face but when you look directly at him he's all :3c . his patron doesn't come around too much, Manny picked one that specifically wouldn't be too intrusive, bc he's been planning this shit out since the moment Ricky first cast a spell. He's always wanted magic but didn't feel inclined towards the scholarly pursuit of it so much as the "deal with a devil" thing. Is trying to figure out ways to bend the deal to benefit him and darling through powers beyond mortal comprehension

Diego: druid, no question. Affinity for wolves over everything else but makes a very cuddly lap dog too when the need strikes. Probably hangs out with darling as a literal stray first and then accidentally shifts one day, ending up directly in the lap of a now very freaked out darling

Ash: long-suffering ranger in a party of city dwellers. "Put that down" "don't eat that" "for the love of- no, you cannot pet the owlbear". Secretly enjoys being the only one in the know when he gets to show off for his sweet pea and may let the others do stupid stuff knowingly if it means he looks better by comparison.

Darling could be some adventurer or innkeeper who crosses paths with one and then all of the party, who just has to go with them to finish their quest or stay safe from the town that's suddenly overwhelmed with monsters. Or maybe HER party was wiped out by some shadowy threat, and she never figures out that her new pals know more about that tragedy than they let on.

This is absolute perfection??? How did you know I been playing baulders gate huh?? How'd you know this would scratch my brain in a perfect way??

[cassandra-knows]

Ff

As a Millennial I was scarred by having my formative political years coincide with the rise of Dubya.

I didn't think anyone could possibly be thick enough to vote him in. And they didn't-! But he was escorted over the line by others in power, went on to miss a devastating attack on home soil and used it to start a war for oil, THEN GOT ELECTED FOR REAL ON THAT RECORD. All while coming across as a total nitwit.

Since I was in middle school I have been dumbfounded by what Republicans will steal in broad daylight and browbeat everyone into shifting the overton window to accept. No one called foul on them. No one EVER calls foul on them.

You can go all the way back to America's Original Sin and see the exact same pattern that has repeated over and over and over again. A small group of wealthy people pitch a fit about a policy that would hamper their acquisition of more wealth and power, cloaking their greed in the language of religious righteousness or patrotism or paternalism or fearmongering, and the rest of the people with wealth and power may talk a good game about equity and justice but at the end of the day they have far more in common with their fellow parasites so they agree to carve out an exception for them. But the wealth addicts have no concept of 'enough', only 'more' so they spend a few decades learning to exploit the status quo and when they hit that ceiling that bust through it increasingly brazen audacity and act like they're the victims, or they're entitled to it, or God promised it to them, or just WHAT'RE YOU GONNA DO ABOUT IT, HUH? Actually ousting and defanging these leeches would risk the whole country coming undone. (WOULD IT THOUGH?! Maybe now, but that's because it's been left to fester for so long!!!) So we'll pretend this coup/ethnic cleansing/fraud on the people doesn't actually count. But just this once! Just the one time. We'll definitely get serious and punish the next person who tries something really bad.

When I was a teen I was appalled by everything about the War On Terror. I couldn't understand why my fellow youths weren't marching in the streets. Our parents were former hippies, what happened to that spark?! The apathy was deafening. It broke something in me: I felt so helpless.

Now I know why they didn't march. Because the hippies were always a minority counter culture, and the rest bought into Greed Is Good, this is how the world works so you better learn to play the game. Even my former hippie dad was adamant that I needed to learn the game in order to look after myself. As a generation Millennials were told a lie about how to secure our futures, and certainly older Millennials bought it. If the global economy hadn't crashed in 2008, it we'd been allowed the same advantages as our parents, we would be just as insufferable as the worst Boomers.

I worry that the decades of zero options, zero hope, zero money, have fostered that apathy. We literally couldn't go anywhere or do anything because that requires money. Many of us still live hand to mouth. I've half-joked for years that our generation's retirement plan is going to have to be to dismantle capitalism, but it becomes truer every day.

The system is working as designed. We are all too tired, too poor, too anxious, too sick, or too scared to take any risks. We're all one car failure or health incident away from penury. We keep hoping someone will go marching in on our behalf and sort things out, clean up the mess, provide some relief, be the adult in the room.

There are no adults here but us.

Do we deserve to call ourselves adults if we won't take a stand for something that really matters?

Adulting didn't have to be hard. America didn't have to be hard. Other people made them hard and convinced us that was the right and proper way to do things.

We're burned out and barely hanging on for whose benefit? The gerontocracy that refuses to let go of power, but WILL die sooner than they want to accept? The shareholders who are addicted to making money, even though they could never spend it all in a human lifespan?

I don't think I'm the immature one here. I'm not the snowflake who has a tantrum when someone suggests I share the toys I stole. If I'm sent to the corner I don't call the other kids liars who are out to get me. I don't crap myself in public or fall asleep at my own trial. And I'm not dumb enough to believe it when a kid covered in chocolate tells me he's never taken any pudding but if he did that would be fine because he deserves pudding and he should definitely be given more pudding now.

America is being held hostage by squalling toddlers.

No one is coming to save us but us.

We are the adults in the room, if we act like it.

[ash5monster01]

Goes On Chapter Twelve

Pairing: Charlie Dalton x OC!FemReader

Warnings: 18+, depression, mentions of suicide, heavy topics, eventual smut, slow burn romance, fluff, gender themes/stereotypes.

Summary: Against his best efforts Charlie has to start at a new preparatory school after the tragic events that took place at Welton. The very events that led to the loss of his best friend and getting expelled in the first place. He has no plans to make friends let alone get close to anyone ever again. That is until he meets Evelyn and her interesting group of friends. No matter how hard he tries to push them away he finds it to be impossible. So he caves and in the end learns that life can still be enjoyable even if it feels like everyone is against you.

word count: 2.9k

Eleven ←→ Thirteen

Masterlist

Ridge Academy, NY

3/26/60

Dating in a private school could be difficult. Evelyn had listened to Violet complain about it for years but until now she hadn’t realized how true it was. It had been a month of dating Charlie and every day people still gave her a hard time and she felt like neither of them had any privacy. Even the dates at the cafe on campus didn’t feel real due to so many peering eyes. It was like animals in a zoo and Evelyn was tired of it. Especially since she still felt like she was getting to know Charlie. There was still so much there he hadn’t given her access too and she partly blamed it on this damn school.

So she had been grumpy. Which wasn’t usual for the girl but she was just annoyed. Sick and tired of waiting for the world to finally let her have and enjoy something for once. She finally found someone she enjoyed being with and liked, so why the hell couldn’t the universe provide her with a break? Allow her a chance to date her first boyfriend like every girl should. Not with the overlooking eyes but with an innocence that comes with experiencing all the things you hadn’t before.

“If you’re not careful your face’ll get stuck like that” Charlie muttered, leaning toward her on the couch and rubbing a thumb over the crease between her brows. Evelyn’s face instantly softened, heart yearning for the boy beside her.

“I’m sorry” she told him, legs shifting in his lap. The library had become a sort of safe haven for the two, cradling their budding love between the stacks of hundreds of books. At first Evelyn thought it was romantic but now she just felt annoyed that this was the only place she felt any privacy with the boy beside her.

“Don’t be, what’s on your mind?” the chestnut haired boy asks and Evelyn sighs, head leaning back against the couch.

“I just wish we could be alone” she tells him and Charlie chuckles, eyes glancing around the semi empty space around them.

“We are alone” he says and she groans, head shaking against the back of the cushions, brunette tresses falling in all directions.

“No I mean alone away from this school. I feel like everywhere we go there is someone we know. Relationships shouldn’t be so monitored” Evelyn counters and Charlie gives a understanding look because he knows exactly what she means. Even now there is a librarian twenty feet away and if he sneaks into her room at night it’s only bound to be interrupted by Violet or her be there the entire time. When he had wanted girls to attend Welton he had never considered the watchful eye factor, people like Nolan and Mr. McAllister watching your every move. He could see himself now sneaking his girl out to the old Indian Cave just to get some alone time, and then it hit him.

"What if we just left campus" he says and a shocked look paints Evelyn's face quickly.

"We can't, not without written permission from a parent and I don’t know about your parents but mine would definitely not sign off on me running around with a boy" she defends quickly and Charlie laughs, pulling her closer and hoping the librarian doesn't look up to bust them both.

"I didn't say anything about asking for permission" he grins, mischief sparkling in his eyes and the gears finally start turning in her head. It wouldn't be impossible. A few right moves and they both could be off and into the night, returning in the mask of the dark, and no one would know a thing.

"Okay, let's do it" she agrees quickly and he smiles wide, squeezing her as he presses a soft kiss to the side of her head.

"What do you say about 7:30, meet past the gate and behind the tree line?" and the nerves start to bubble in Evelyn's stomach but she smiles and agrees anyway.

"Perfect, but now I have to get ready!" and before Charlie could protest, Evelyn was up and out of her seat, scurrying in the direction of the dorms so she could get dressed for her first very real date. Sighing he leans back into the couch, a smile on his face from how much he adored her. Only once in a while did he feel despair about getting so close when he had promised himself not to. Those were only during the dark moments though, the moments where he couldn't stop his mind from thinking about how much he would miss her if she suddenly went away and then those thoughts would bring him right back to Neil. He wished he had appreciated him more when he was here. With this thoughts now swirling in his head he did the one thing that always made him feel better.

"Yeah, hi. I'm calling for Todd Anderson" Charlie said once the phone line picked up and whatever twelve year old blazer boy answered was off in search of his meek friend that could be the only one to calm him down during this time.

"Hello" Todd said after a few moments, voice coming out staticky from the phone and hundred miles inbetween them.

"Hey Todd, it's Charlie" he responded quickly, trying to keep his voice even as he tried to get the panic and sadness to go away.

"Hey Charlie, what’s going on? It's not Wednesday" Todd said, confusion laced in his voice and Charlie chuckled, a little sad because he could picture exactly what the boys face looked like right now. The overbearing weight of wanting to be back at Welton swallowing him whole. How torn the world must be if he still wished he was back at that dreaded school.

"I know, it's just- I have a date tonight" Charlie spoke softly and Todd grinned wide on the other end. The image of his overcondienct and cocky friend coming to mind. The one he knew, not knowing the new person he had become.

"Hey that's awesome Charlie, is it Evelyn?" Todd questioned, coming to know the girl from how the boy had talked about her. He knew it would only be a matter of time before he couldn’t stop himself from going after her. Todd was starting to get used to always being right.

"Yeah it’s her, it's just-.." and Charlie clamped his mouth shut, suddenly feeling silly for feeling this way. He was Charlie Dalton for Christ sake, he was confident, smart, and a womanizer. Why would he be calling quiet Todd Anderson about it?

"You can tell me Charlie" Todd spoke, finally sensing the discomfort coming from the boy he hadn't seen in person since before Christmas. Charlie took a moment, collecting himself before responding.

“What if I get to close and lose her too?” He whispered, voicing his worries out loud for the very first time. Todd was taken aback, shocked to hear the words that just left his mouth. Then it dawned on him that Neil was Charlie’s best friend, the one guy who had been by his side for the entirety of his days at Welton. Todd had only known Neil four months for him to become important to him, he couldn’t imagine a lifetime. Neil had already been gone more than half the amount of time Todd had known him but for Charlie it was different. For Charlie it was losing the one real person who loved you your entire life.

“Does she know?” Todd asked, curious if Charlie had disclosed the tragic event that had all changed them entirely for the rest of their lives. Yet Charlie’s silence was enough of an answer in itself.

“No one does, well except my room mate. I just didn’t want it to define me” Charlie finally told him, realizing the weight in his chest he has been carrying this whole time over not grieving properly. He had yet to be comforted for the loss of his friend and that had made it hard to get over. Hard to move on.

“You should tell her, it won’t change anything but until you do, can she ever really begin to understand you?” and Charlie remembered exactly why he had called Todd in the first place. He had become his new voice of reason since Neil died and he knew the exact right thing to say.

“I just don’t want her to see me differently” Charlie admitted and Todd wished he was there to give his friend a hug. He remembered not liking Charlie much at first. He thought his outgoing spirit was dangerous and that it put him in a position to be targeted amongst the group. Yet he failed to notice just how loyal the boy was and now he wished that during the time they did spend together he got to know him better.

“You are different Nuwanda. What matters is if you own it” Todd told him and Charlie chuckled lightly, fighting the tears that burned at the back of his eyes.

“I’ll tell her when I’m ready, I promise” he finally said and Todd accepted this answer not wanting to push him too far, so he decided to leave him with just this.

“Just remember you may never be ready” Todd says knowing his own grief had changed him entirely as a man. He was still living out his punishment with Nolan. It was funny how Nolan used to be annoyed with how outspoken he was but the moment he speaks up he gets silenced.

“Thanks Todd, I’ll talk to you later” Charlie smiled, feeling much better than before about this date.

“Good luck” Todd bid him goodbye and then the receiver clicked before indicating the dead line and Todd was gone, leaving Charlie no choice but to get ready and face his fears.

It’s not long until 7:30 hits, Charlie had been hiding in the tree line since 7. Wanting to lessen the chances of both of them getting caught and take the time to prepare himself for a real date. He may have always been cool with the women but he had truly never been on a proper date before. Especially with a girl like Evelyn, she deserved to be swept off her feet. He jumps when the sound of a branch snapping fills his ears but he quickly calms when he sees the foot is one with a kitten heel and not loafers that belonged to a teacher ready to bust him.

“That was thrilling” Evelyn whispers despite not needing to. They were far enough away now that no one would be able to hear him. Yet her words don’t register in Charlies head because as his eyes move up from her feet they find leg. Lots and lots of leg until right at her knees he is met with baby blue tulle, the skirt making her look like an angel on a cloud. It gets even better when he meets the sweetheart neckline, strained over her chest and looking so inviting. The silver chain necklace around her neck makes him shiver. Finally his eyes meet her own, just in time to spot the grin she wears from watching him check her out.

“I’m beginning to regret this idea of going out and not staying in now” Charlie says, shifting a little as he prepared to approach her. Evelyn just shook her head and reached for him anyways, not giving him much choice in the matter.

“I already convinced Violet to stay in Marty’s room until at least 3am, so we have time” she whispers before pulling him close and capturing his lips in her own. Charlie hums as she kisses him soft and sweet, agonizingly slow and leaving him wanting more. “Right now I just want my boyfriend to take me on a date”

“Then let’s do it” Charlie smiles at her, stealing one more kiss before lacing his fingers through her own and starting them on the walk.

It takes only a mile before they’re met with the sight of town, one Charlie had only been in a handful of times since coming here. Evelyn takes lead on picking the restaurant considering she had been in Ridge much longer than he ever had. It’s no surprise when she picks the small diner opposed to somewhere nicer. People gave the pair looks walking in all dressed up just for some burgers and shakes but neither of them minded when they finally found a booth. Floor sticky and table greasy, it was perfect for two kids just beginning to fall in love.

“I’ve never been on a real date before?” Evelyn admits, taking the red and white stripe straw between her lips and taking a sip of her chocolate shake. Charlie just smiled, his own strawberry shake in his hand.

“You’re telling me none of those guys in that co-ed school snuck you off campus to take you on proper date?” He teases, voice full of amusement as he looks at her.

“No Charles, they haven’t. Yet that’s the thing about co-ed schools. The boys don’t understand to appreciate it more” she says, thinking about all the boys she grew up with who never learned to be gentlemanly or even nervous in her presence.

“Idiots, I didn’t talk to a girl until I was thirteen” Charlie says with the shake of his head, smiling as the waitress sets down burgers and fries for them both. He grins at the way Evelyn has one fry shoved in her mouth before it even hits the table.

“How come you’re not nervous around girls then?” Evelyn inquires, grabbing some salt to put on her fries and on Charlie’s before setting it down.

“I figured there was never any reason to be. If I wanted to have a fighting chance I couldn’t just gape at a girl like a fish, I had to snag her before some other idiot did” and Evelyn’s laughing loudly at the explanation, other customers looking over and chuckling at the young kids on their night out.

“Well lucky for you no other idiots in that school liked me and I learned to accept that a long time ago” Charlie’s stiffens as the words leave her mouth, thinking of his friend who was probably in their shared dorm wondering where the hell he was. His friend who was the only one to know anything about him here. If only Nate had said something before he had fallen for the girl but now it was far too late.

“Idiots indeed” Charlie agrees before grabbing his burger and taking a large bite. Evelyn just smiles, mimicking his movements and doing the same. When some mustard gets smeared on Charlies cheek she’s quick to giggle and wipe it away.

As the night progresses the conversation continues to flow, laughter and smiles filling the space between them. It’s not long until plates are empty and stomachs are full. At some point Charlie even ends up on Evelyn’s side of the booth, arm wrapped around her as he recalls tales from his Welton days. Evelyn particularly likes the ones about Knox and all the things he did to gain the attention of Chris. Sadly it was getting close to curfew so Charlie threw some cash on the table and led the girl out the booth and back in the dreaded direction of the school, feeling guilty for still not telling her the truth about his past.

“That was much easier than expected” Evelyn says, swinging their interlocked hands between them. Charlie just laughs, eyes glancing down at her in the moonlight.

“It’s not over yet, now we have to sneak back in” Charlie informs her and she just rolls her eyes, leaning closer to him the closer they get to the school.

“I almost don’t want to go back in” she says when the gate comes into view and Charlie glances at his watch, noting there still was just forty minutes until curfew. Before Evelyn can say anything more he has her pressed up against one of the trees and he doesn’t miss the sharp breath she takes in.

“Then let’s not, at least for a little bit” he tells her and before she can agree he has his lips on hers, tipping her head back and against the tree. Evelyn settles into the kiss fairly quickly, hands coming to rest on his chest. Charlie finds his own comfort in the kiss, keeping a hand at her waist and the other on her face, making sure she kept access for him. He loved how she still tasted faintly of chocolate shake and how she relaxed into his arms. He hadn’t kissed many girls in his lifetime but none of them could ever compare.

“That was the best first date” Evelyn mutters when he finally gives her a chance to breath, lips trailing down her neck and to the top of her chest that he could barely keep his eyes off of all night. When his fingers tangle into her necklace he finally begins to pull away.

“Agreed, what do you say we do it again?” and Evelyn giggles as his lips meet her neck again. Smiling she reaches to tangle her fingers in his hair and memorize this moment to keep in her heart forever.

“Anytime Charlie”

Taglist: @octaviasdread @eden-punk @linmichea1 @pursuedbyamemoryy @mynameisjxlia

Comment if you want to be added to the taglist :))

[charcoalhawk]

Don’t listen to a word I say, the screams all sound the same

Wulf lives his life in missed moments, and then, he doesn’t live in any moment at all.

Content warning: death, murder

Title is from Little talks by Of Monsters and Men

Wulf knows he had a real name, once. Even mean people like the butcher who always overcharged mama had a name, but Wulf can’t remember his anymore.

But mama had always called him her little wulf, and during their special nights every month when they all moved on all fours and howled at the moon, he sometimes wished he could always be one.

He wasn’t even two hands old when he lost mama and his siblings to That Man. He had broken into their little home in the woods and hit mama so horribly on the head that she never got up again. He and his siblings had tried to run, but two loud bangs had them collapsing from where they were running beside him.

The only reason he survived was because he did the one thing mama told him to never do. That Man had caught him as he was trying to shake his sister Rosè awake, yelling horrible words as he shook Wulf. And in that moment Wulf had been so overcome with rage he disobeyed the most important rule.

He’d managed to twist and sink his tiny teeth into That Man’s arm, biting down as hard as he could.

That Man had screamed and hit Wulf, but it must not have been too hard because he woke up just as the sun was setting.

That Man’s body was lying a few feet away, face frozen in a horrible scream and body stiffer than frozen wood.

He had left That Man there to rot for what he had done, then very carefully carried his siblings back to their house.

It took him three whole days to dig a hole big enough for his family, but when he finally finished it he carefully brought them all down and arranged them like he cuddles piles they would have after every full moon.

After filling the hole he searched the whole forest until he found the three perfect rocks. And carefully rolled them to lie over where his family was buried.

For a long time no one else comes to their house. Wulf keeps it as clean as he can in honor of his mama, and the forest provides enough so he doesn’t starve.

No one from town ever comes out to look for him or even for his mama, something that both makes Wulf’s heart ache yet he’s immensely grateful for.

The seasons shift and Wulf grows and settles into his quiet life. The most he ever sees of other people is when the leaves shift and deer run aplenty. Then he’ll catch the occasional howl of hunting dogs or the bang that always brings back horrible memories.

Those are the few months he dreads the full moon, because the forest is never quiet, and he fears catching any kind of unwanted attention.

But all good things must come to an end. It's a warm spring night, with the full moon round and heavy overhead, when Wulf hears a cry shatter the calm of the night and sends birds fleeing into the sky in droves.

Although he knows nothing good will come of it, his curiosity drives him to find the source of that horrid sound. As he draws closer the cloying scent of blood begins to overwhelm all other senses.

He ends up finding them in a clearing. A young boy is hunched over a crumpled figure, as blood slowly covers the forest floor around them.

Wulf pokes his head out of the foliage, trying to get a better look. A gleam of metal directs him to the weapon lying next to the two, as a picture starts to form in Wulf’s mind.

In this form he can’t speak, but maybe he can get the boy to follow him and he can bring the older man over his back. He thinks he remembers the path to town, mama made sure he remembered where deer-tree was, because it meant you were getting too close to town on your own.

Plan made, Wulf huffs loudly to alert the boy so as not to surprise him. It works almost too well, and the boy yelps when he locks eyes with Wulf.

“Oh- oh please don’t eat me señor wolf, an-and you can’t have my dad either!”

Wulf shakes his head at that, why would he ever eat a skinny human when there’s so many deer around.

“Oh! Uh, you, you understand me?”

Wulf nods his head rapidly, then makes a point to gesture at the downed man then at his side.

“You’ll help? Oh thank you thank you!”

With the boy now understanding that Wulf means him no harm he moves more confidently into the clearing, the moon illuminating his midnight fur. Maybe after this he can invite the boy and who he assumes is the boy’s father to his home. Maybe he could even go back into the village and start getting the good meat from the butcher and he wouldn’t get overcharged and-

BANG

It takes a second for the pain to hit, but then Wulf collapses where he stood, a burning line of fire shooting though his entire body, radiating from his side.

“Glad I- I always keep a silver spare.”

It’s the older man, barely sitting up, clutching that weapon like a lifeline.

“But dad! He- he was just trying to help! Why did you shoot him!”

The boy is by his side, pressing an already bloody hand into the wound.

“It’s a monster, son. And you would do well to remember that. Now, help me up, we need to go report this to the bishop.”

“But if we don't help him he’s gonna die!”

“Bah. It’s better than it deserves. Now help me up now or so help me god you can go join it!”

The boy rests one last hand on Wulf’s injured side, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’ll come back, I’ll bring bandages and I’ll-!”

The bigger man rips the boy away, crushing grip tight against the boy’s slight frame. He shoves the boy ahead, away from Wulf.

Wulf whines and pants as the minutes drift by. The wound had slowly ebbed from a burning inferno into shooting pain with each breath. He can feel the moon begin to set around him, taking away its cool light and leaving Wulf cold and empty.

As the sun begins to rise Wulf swears he can feel other breaths around him, a rough tongue working out the knots in his fur. It reminds him of peaceful nights with his family, and as the sun rises, Wulf’s breaths slow.

With his eyes closed, it feels like his family is still curled around him.

[quinloki]

ABC Head Canon - Trafalgar D. Water Law

SFW Alphabet!

18+ only

-:- Table of Consent -:-

SFW Alphabet

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Law's affection is pretty subtle. It's coffee made in the morning before you're up, and your favorite drink in his fridge even when you came over unexpectedly. It's snacks and quiet evenings in even though you had plans because it's obvious you need a break from the world.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Law is a give what he gets kind of friend. It's not like he's keeping strict records or anything, but if you're keeping your distance, so is he. He'll step up and step in sometimes, but most of the time he lets the other person decide how close/casual the relationship is. He's a little introverted in that sense, and that's why most of the people in his crew are high-energy – they pushed their way in and set the bar for what was being given.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Law was real hit or miss with cuddling until he became friends with Bepo. Minks and their hugging/snuggling breaks down anyone eventually xD – But now Law will have to actually stop himself from cuddling with people. He'll let people lean against him and snuggle without complaint, but it isn't until the boundaries of a relationship are defined (i.e. he's aware you're dating steady) that he'll start initiating cuddles.

Much like Eustass he tends to multitask his snuggling with reading/research/etc.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Law definitely wants a family in some way shape or form. Until he lost his family he had a really positive family experience, and I think he longs to have that again. He's really good at cleaning, a byproduct of being a doctor/surgeon, but his cooking skills are pretty basic. He's not bad, but no one's asking him to pick up extra shifts cooking for the crew.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He'd be very clinical. Even if he was hurt by whatever the reason was, he'd keep it behind closed doors. Bepo, Penguin, and Sachi might know how much it actually affects him, but no one else would.

If it was kind of a mutual deal he'd probably be amenable to remaining friends. Sometimes things just don't work out that way and there's no hard feelings on either side.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Law falls faster and harder than he ever lets on, so a lot of his subtle affections and actions are because he doesn't want to overwhelm someone by coming on too hard or fast. He's educated enough to know the socially acceptable milestones for relationships, and he'll casually test the waters regarding commitment, but he's not dating just to pass the time, so he'll react accordingly.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Law understands trauma and abuse – and while he can be ruthless, he's not cruel or abusive himself. He can be sadistic behind closed doors – with consent – but outside of those parameters he's almost infinitely patient and kind, despite whatever expression is on his face.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Hugs are like cuddling for Law, he's not one to initiate them until he's reached a certain threshold in his relationship with someone, but thanks to Bepo he's really comfortable with receiving them. His hugs run the line too, from casual one-arm-side hugs, to clinging, almost desperate, don't-let-go-yet therapeutic hugs.

For a guy whose hands are cold more often than not his hugs are really warm.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Because of how hard and fast he can fall, he's hesitant to say it, but once it's said it's like the word is unsealed, and he's really comfortable with it. He'll hold back a little, for fear that overuse will diminish how you think he feels, but he's not rationing out 6 or 7 instances of it over a lifetime.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they're jealous?)

Unless it's an ongoing situation that gets under his skin repeatedly you'd probably never know. He's more likely to feel bad for feeling jealous, so he'll do whatever he can to keep it under wraps. If it gets to the point where it really irritates him he'll sit down and talk it out, but he's highly unlikely to lash out because of it.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Law's kisses are cool and dry, at least at first. It's the holding back thing at work, and he's restraining himself. He doesn't kiss just anyone either – hugs might be given out like candy to friends and such, but kisses are for relationships.

One solid make-out session and you realize his kisses behind closed doors are completely different. Passionate and hot and deep, he's stealing your breath and sending rushes into your skin with teasing nips and kisses at your neck and ears. He kisses how he likes to be kissed, so mimicking what he does for you (until he learns what you really like), is a good way to make sure he's getting kissed where and how he likes.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Law looks like the last person you want to ask to babysit for you, but he's surprisingly good with kids. Sometimes it's the Bepo-effect, but most of the time it's because he's patient and even tempered. Kids know they don't have to be afraid of him, even when he looks stressed.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Law's a morning person because he has to be, but he's also so overworked and busy he's often a night person too. In the end he's really just a flesh golem operating on an abundance of coffee and spite.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Without the need to be up first thing in the morning, Law would flourish better at night. He's up late night's because it's easier to focus then vs midday, and he gets more done. Granted, it means little sleep, but he's learned to push those boundaries.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Law's give and take shows its head again in this regard. He won't volunteer much, but he'll share in response to being trusted in the first place. Some of it is the last vestiges of legitimate trust issues, but mostly it's trying to keep himself from oversharing, or investing himself in someone who might not be committed to sticking around.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Law's patience is impressive. Even when he looks angry, it's more likely he's sleep-deprived and irritated, and not legitimately pissed. Actual anger from Law is rare, and it's really only going to happen if you've betrayed him in some way – I imagine he'd forgive just about anything else with enough time.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Law does his best to hold onto the details, but there's a lot on his plate, and not enough sleep to keep a hold of all of it. He'll forget small things from time to time, but he's got all the big important bits down pat quickly. Organizers help him keep track of dates and events, and his friends will help keep him on track too – knowing all of his quirks and responsibilities, they do what they can to help.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

That first kiss. That defining moment when he knew he'd finally be able to let loose a little and when he picks you up and kisses you deep against the wall, it becomes a good memory for you too.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Law is fiercely protective and is really bad about give and take in this regard. He always puts himself in the most dangerous situations in any of his plans, and carries much more of the burden than he needs to. Some of it is wanting to keep those dear to him safe, but some of it is also wanting to be in control and able to adapt to any changes in a plan.

He wouldn't try and keep you locked away from the world though, being free is important to him, and no matter the risks he'd never take that from someone.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He's a little bare minimum on dates, but his daily everyday tasks are so sweet that it's not a big deal, and sometimes his friends will help make sure he does a little extra for anniversaries. Flowers, dressing up, making reservations, that sort of thing. He tends to gift randomly when the mood strikes him, but Sachi and Penguin will remind him about holidays and such sometimes just in case.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He sits inside his head too much, takes on too much of a plan or issue, and sometimes it can leave you feeling like he doesn't trust you. In all honesty he's trying not to burden you, and it's really hard to pull him out of this habit.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Law's only concern is to be clean and comfortable. The fact that he looks so good when his concern is so minimal is enough to drive everyone around feral, but he's got the body of a model – or near enough – so he doesn't need much effort. He wore a tight white t-shirt and a pair of jeans one day and you almost didn't want him to leave the house for fear he'd get mobbed.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

With how hard and fast he tends to fall for someone, yes. He won't let on if things fall apart, but by the time he's popping the question, he's laying himself bare in terms of his feelings and how important you are to him.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He's a hopeless romantic, and when you go the extra mile and surprise him with a date, or rose-petals for a special at-home evening, he's so touched he'll be flustered. He'd actively do such things for you more often, but he's so tired/busy that he often loses the thread of planning before he's begun more than he cares to admit.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn't like, either in general or in a partner?)

He's okay with all sorts of relationship set ups – traditional, open, throuples, poly, etc. – his big thing is that no matter what shape it takes, communication is important. He's not okay with uncomfortable surprises, like learning about a new person in your open relationship because he came home early. (also, don't do that! Bad poly practice, bad! Communicate first, smooch second.)

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He doesn't move much when he sleeps. Unless you come around. The second you sit down on the bed, or settle down too close to him he'll pull you in and it's an immovable cage. You're sleeping that way and you might as well just accept it.

(If he does it before you've really progressed he will wake up in the morning mortified and apologetic.)

[jaimebluesq]

for the 3 things Jaime would never write? 1 - Guardian (Weilan) in YOHE (the closest of Wuxia we have) Crossover with MDZS (especially Sangcheng) 2 - Xue Yang getting to corrupt Xiao Xingchen for real, no tricks 3 - NHS knowing JGY's plans to kill Da-ge and actually helping him to do so Oh, dear Jaime, good luck on that ;D

I started reading this and went “yeah, I wouldn't write #1 if only because it's been over a year since I watched Guardian and I only remember bits and pieces, so I wouldn't write about it” and then went “Yeah, I'm not exactly known for writing the Yi City Crew except on rare occasions, and corrupting XXC normally isn't in my wheelhouse”... and then you hit me with #3! My instinct was to balk and go “no!!!!!!!!!! NHS would never! Damn I need to write a snippet for one of the others because the very idea of this one is traumatizing me!”... and then my brain gave me a scenario that I would write even as my heart breaks writing it. So yeah, thank you for making me cry :-p

Ironically as I wrote this, some themes from my previous prompt response came through - ah, but NHS & JGY, the trauma gifts that keep on giving.

~ ~ ~

The boy rocked, stunned and speechless with tears falling down his cheeks, as his brother held him tightly. All around them, disciples and servants scurried about, some picking up debris, others bringing out buckets of water and mops to clean away the blood and viscera from the Unclean Realm's main hall.

One of the elders stopped at their side and crouched down. “Nie-gongzi- I mean, Nie-zongzhu. Perhaps it would be best if you were both elsewhere for this.”

He felt his brother nod against him and the next thing he knew, he was picked up and carried away to somewhere dark and safe.

“A-Sang? Talk to me, please,” his brother pleaded when they were away from listening ears.

“A-Die,” he sobbed. “He was going to- He killed A-Niang and then he was going to-”

“Shhhh.” His brother rocked him again. “He would never have hurt you.”

“This is why they say our family is cursed,” the boy muttered with his face pressed against his brother's robes. “It happened to Baba and it will happen to you and it will happen to me and I don't want to be cursed, Da-ge!”

“It won't happen to you, A-Sang.”

“But what about you?”

His brother sighed. “I will never, ever hurt you or anyone else we love. If I start slipping like Baba, I'd rather someone lock me in a room and leave me to die than to hurt you.”

...

It was with memories of a terrified child in the back of his mind that Nie Huaisang knocked at Jin Guangyao's door.

“Come in.”

Once the door had closed behind him, Nie Huaisang turned the lock so that nobody could enter. He wanted privacy for the conversation he was about to have today.

“What can I do for you, A-Sang?”

Nie Huaisang was too nervous to sit, and instead stood facing Jin Guangyao across the wide desk. “I know what you've been doing, San-ge.”

“What in heavens do you mean-”

“I know you're doing more than playing Clarity for Da-ge.”

There was a moment that Jin Guangyao was still, then his lips shifted into an easy smile. “I still have no idea what you mean. Have you been having strange dreams again? I could-”

“Don't lie to me!” He slammed his hand down on Jin Guangyao's desk. “You of all people, you know I'm not what people think I am. Don't treat me like I'm brainless.”

Jin Guangyao nodded and set aside the brush he'd been using to write letters before Nie Huaisang had entered. “So you know about Clarity. Have you told Da-ge?”

Nie Huaisang shook his head. “Are you doing it because you want Da-ge dead, or because someone's making you.”

“Da-ge and I have our differences,” Jin Guangyao sighed, “but I'm not so petty as to want him dead for those. But when Jin-zongzhu wants his opposition dead, and has decided that this is to be my test of loyalty... I'm sorry.”

Nie Huaisang swallowed hard. “Was it his or your decision to use Clarity?”

“Mine. I thought it would be untraceable.”

“It nearly was, I suspect there are very few who would figure it out.”

The two young men stared at each other for countless moments.

“So, what are you to do with me?” Jin Guangyao asked, his body tense like a cornered fox ready to bolt.

“You need to stop this horrible music-”

“Of course, I-”

“-and find another method.”

Jin Guangyao blinked.

“What you're doing is making his worst nightmares come true. He was already going downhill after the end of the war, and he's been getting worse and worse since then. You're just speeding up the very thing he has feared most. Da-ge would rather die than have a qi deviation so bad that he would hurt someone.”

Jin Guangyao's mouth opened, then closed again. Then he lifted a finger. “Are you trying to trick me into revealing something? Because there really isn't more to it than what you've figured out.”

Nie Huaisang shook his head. With a steeling breath of air, he sat down across the other man. “Da-ge is dying no matter what... so let's make certain he goes with dignity and honour. And after that... we're going to kill Jin Guangshan, and we're going to make him suffer.”

[bumblebee-be]

First Ten Lines Game

Rules: Post the first lines of your last 10 fics posted to ao3. if you have less than 10 fics posted, post the first lines of all your fics.

this is so fun thank you for the tag @buddiefication!! i have 34 works and 22 of those are 9-1-1 fics, so here’s the last 10! (not including my collection of tumblr ficlets)

1. i need somebody to pull me out of this grave

Buck!

He didn’t know yet. He didn’t know that Buck was already dead, that yelling wouldn’t do any good. The first shout cracked open something in his chest, spilling poison into his veins. It didn’t matter that he was injured too- he was moving. Buck wasn’t. Buck wasn’t moving.

2. lying to ourselves, acting like we're something else

Okay. Here’s the thing. Buck likes sex. It’s fun. He likes how it feels, he likes making other people feel good. He likes sex. He’s pretty good at sex, if his partner’s praises are to be believed. He doesn’t like it when things get complicated. So he tends toward casual hookups, one time things that he never has to deal with again. Except… okay. He’s good at sex. The aftermath? Not so much. 

3. all the pain i should have saved

Eddie thought Buck was canceling on them. The clock hits 5:55 and he hasn’t heard from Buck. He was supposed to get here around 6, sure, but Buck has never, ever , not been early for a family dinner. Ever . He usually texts Eddie when he’s heading over, but there’s been nothing. Not a text, not a call, not the familiar sound of the jeep pulling into Eddie’s driveway and Buck’s warm voice calling out as he lets himself in. 

4. crashing, i'm crashing right into you 

Buck planned on telling Eddie. Really, he did.  He was sitting in front of Conner and Kameron and hoping his smile looked real and thinking what am I gonna tell Eddie ? And then he was at the station a few days later and Hen was watching him and Eddie was venting about Chris and it became more about how can he possibly tell this to Eddie?

5. this is my family- it’s little and broken but still good

It starts with a movie night.

It’s not anything abnormal- Christopher tucked between Eddie and Buck while some Disney movie plays on the TV and Eddie tries to force himself to watch the screen rather than Buck and his son. He usually gives up before the movie is halfway done and allows himself the small luxury of simply watching as his son drifts further from him and curls deeper into Buck’s side.

6. make me a promise, tell me you'll stay 

If Eddie never sees Buck in another hospital bed again, it’ll be too soon.

He’s getting really, really sick of it, actually. Of riding in the back of the firetruck because Buck refuses to take an ambulance that “someone else might really need and, anyway, I’m fine .” Of Bobby’s hand on his shoulder, holding him back as the doctors take Buck away to do a more thorough exam, despite his protests of “ really , I’m fine , Hen and Chim already- Bobby, would you tell them I’m fine? Eddie, c’mon I don’t- guys , this is just unnecessary, seriously!” Of waiting to find out that this is the time. The time that Buck inhaled too much smoke, that he hit his head too hard, that his injuries from the fire truck had regressed.

7. can you hear me screaming (please don't leave me)

Eddie’s world shatters the moment Evan Buckley’s heart stops.

He’s standing just a few feet away, at the door to Evan’s hospital room, fist poised to knock on the door. He stands frozen as he watches the other nurses swarm around the bed, unable to move even as the doctors shove past him. There’s frantic chatter all around him, orders being shouted, instructions flying around the room. No one spares him a glance- he’s off shift. The voices fade to white noise, the only sound Eddie can hear is the monotonous beep of a flatline.

8. been here all along so, why can't you see?

Eddie doesn’t care that Buck’s dating other people. Really, he doesn’t. He’s proud of Buck for coming out and happy that he’s finally exploring what makes him happy. It just. It’s just. Buck apparently has really, really shitty taste. Like his taste in guys is somehow even worse than his taste in girls.

So, really, it’s not that Buck is dating someone that’s Not Eddie, it’s that he’s dating people that Eddie wants to punch in the face. That’s all. Because Eddie’s worried about Buck getting hurt. That’s it.

9. nothing the matter with a kiss

Eddie really has to learn to not drink when he’s with Buck. Purely because, well, when Eddie drinks it suddenly gets very, very difficult not to kiss Buck. Like, okay, it’s not that Buck’s like irresistible or anything- Eddie has some modicum of self control. But a few rounds in, when Buck’s eyes are sparkling with inebriation and he has the rose blush of being tipsy and his lips are pinker than normal, it’s suddenly extremely difficult for Eddie to look away. 

10. take my voice, i'm giving it though i don't feel safe at all

Buck can’t name this. He has no way to identify the thing that chokes him, that curls around his heart and squeezes , that floods his lungs and lies bitter on his tongue, that fogs his mind, that winds through his veins. He can’t name the beast anymore than he can name what releases it. It’s- simply put, sometimes the dam breaks. The walls he has carefully built up, the ones that hold the nameless monster at bay, they come crashing down. And they bring Buck with them. 

tagging @swiftiebuckleys @ajunerose and anyone else who wants to do this!

[artificialqueens]

Masters of the Scene, Chapter 21 (Bitney Parent Trap AU) - Veronica 

A/N: Okay, I apologize because this group of chapters moves kind of slow; this one in particular is literally one long conversation that doesn’t even end until the next chapter. So…lol, I would understand if anyone following this story wants to wait until 22 is posted to read it. Anyway I love you, thank you for reading either way. Also, thanks so much to my absolutely fabulous beta, @tumble4rpdr

Click here for prequels and previous chapters, or here if you’d rather read on AO3. 

Chapter Summary: Bianca and Courtney continue their difficult (but necessary) conversation.

***

The point of starting the whole thing with small talk, as Bianca had discussed with Shangela over and over, was to disarm her. Test the waters a bit. She knew going in that Courtney would be understandably angry and defensive. That she would be guarded, have all kinds of walls up. So rather than launch right into Serious Mode, Shangela reminded her one of the better sides of their relationship was their ability to banter back and forth, to make each other laugh, even when things were shitty. 

“It’s true,” Bianca had agreed, hugging a pillow tightly while she spoke to Shangie late one night. “Maybe…maybe I can try to make her laugh a little.”

“Right! And if you do that, then you open the door. You have some chance of actually communicating,” Shangie said. 

“Yeah, otherwise…things are probably still too raw.”

As it turned out, the strategy had worked. The problem was that it worked too well. And not only had she managed to disarm and charm Courtney, but she’d allowed Courtney to charm her right back. Finding out that she and Danny regularly watched her shows was incredible, and hearing her absolutely gush over the dresses was even better. 

But the best part was just her. How, once she relaxed a little, she laughed charmingly at Bianca’s jokes, just like the plan. How she sassed back at her, easily falling into their typically comfortable banter. It was enough to fill Bianca with hope—not an easy feat. 

So when she turned things around, asked her point blank about the ‘real reason’ she wanted to talk…

Oof.

Bianca tried to gather herself together. She should be ready for this. She’d been rehearsing to herself during every sleepless night for the past week. 

“Okay. I guess…I should start with an apology…” She took a deep breath, eyes meeting Courtney’s, then quickly looking away, unable to face her until she’d gotten it all out. 

The curiosity and expectation in her green eyes was too much pressure. She knew Courtney must be surprised—apologies had never been Bianca’s strength. She swallowed hard and continued, clutching pieces of a napkin she’d ripped apart. 

“I know that the reason things went sideways last time is because you think that I was saying that you make Danny anxious, but I never…I would never have said that. Not even to be an asshole, or to win an argument.” 

Bianca shifted uncomfortably, the fabric of the blazer too heavy, too hot in this sunny weather. 

“I think-” Courtney began, but Bianca cut in, needing to get it all out.

“I know we have our shit. But I think you’re a great mother. The…the best, actually. I think Danny is the luckiest kid in the world. And I just…I’m just sorry that I ever made you think that I thought otherwise, even for a second.” 

When she finally looked back into Courtney’s face, she was nodding slightly, her eyes a little misty. 

“You may have…hit a nerve,” she admitted softly, chewing on her bottom lip. “I mean, you said that he’s not anxious with you. So I figured you meant that my neurotic energy or whatever was-”

“Court…I get why you thought I meant that. I do.” Bianca reached across the table, unable to stop herself. 

Courtney hesitated before letting Bianca take her hand, but when she did, she gripped it firmly.

“But please hear me,” Bianca continued, not looking away this time. “That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean, then?” she asked, head tilted curiously. 

“I meant…” Bianca took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I meant that he just doesn’t seem that anxious to me, period. He seems like a normal, happy little boy. I mean, he’s loving and kind and easygoing and funny and…in my own fucked-up way, I was trying to compliment you. You’re raising a great, great kid.” 

*

The truth was that even before Danny’s problems began, it had been one of Courtney’s deepest fears. That her anxieties, her insecurities, her fears, even the ones she never spoke about, would somehow rub off on him. And when he was suffering the most, of course it was something she worried about obsessively. Had she made him this way? Had she been too wrapped up in her own problems to protect her baby? 

The knee-jerk reaction to what Bianca said had been because she believed it. Or at least, part of her did. Deep down. That she was the reason for his pain. 

But now…hearing Bianca describe her parenting in such glowing terms was almost unbelievable. An approval that she’d been craving for years, coming right out of the blue when she least expected it. She closed her eyes, feeling like an absolute fucking idiot for losing her mind so completely over what was essentially a misunderstanding. 

Although…

“Wait, so…you were saying that you don’t think he’s anxious at all?” Courtney asked, her brow furrowed, removing her hand from Bianca’s. “You think all the therapy and the home-schooling and the meds and all of that was just…what, for fun?” she asked pointedly, “Or that I was making it up?” 

“No, no, of course not. I guess…I thought that he did have a problem, but that you’d handled it, and handled it well, and now…he was fine. But that maybe that was hard for you to recognize because you were still in like, Mama-Bear mode, worrying about him. And maybe you were, um…not making it up, but like…putting your own anxieties, uh…” 

“Projecting?” Courtney offered, one eyebrow raised, disbelief still clear as day on her face. 

“Yeah, that,” Bianca said, cringing a bit when she saw Courtney’s expression. “It was a dumb thing to say, I’ll admit that, but…not as bad as what you thought I said…right?” 

Courtney sighed, putting her head in her hands. She supposed that it wasn’t as bad, but it was still frustrating. Did Bianca really think that Courtney couldn’t tell the difference between her own anxiety and when her son was in genuine emotional and physical pain? 

“He’s just…” Bianca continued, “He’s not what I think of when I imagine an anxiety-riddled person-”

“Because he’s not in distress!” Courtney cut in sharply, and off Bianca’s nod, added a softer, “At least…not right now. Not…anymore.” Her shoulders slumped. She could feel herself getting defensive, feel that tension returning to her body. Bianca was trying to compliment her, as she said. That she’d done a good job taking care of their son; she tried to take that in, rather than her frustration. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay, I get it. I told Shangela what I’d said. And like, how you misunderstood, and what I really meant. She didn’t quite agree with my psychological assessment,” Bianca said drily. “In fact, she had some pretty choice words for me.”

“Oh yeah?” Courtney asked, one eyebrow arching slightly.

“I believe the phrase ‘ham-fisted moron’ was thrown out,” Bianca said, smiling sheepishly. 

Courtney chuckled in spite of herself, saying, “I’ve always liked Shangie.” 

“She likes you, too. And she made me realize that I didn’t really understand…anything. About what had been going on with him. I know you gave me Dr. Caldwell’s info, but I always felt like calling would be like…I dunno, overstepping.”

“Why? I talk to Adore’s therapists, and doctors, and-” Courtney shook her head. 

“Yeah, I know, and sometimes it feels like you’re…second guessing how I’m handling things,” Bianca said pointedly. 

Courtney bit her lip, feeling a little guilty. She did second-guess how Bianca handled things with Adore sometimes, and maybe that was part of the reason she hadn’t told Bianca everything there was to tell with Danny. Unlike her, Bianca didn’t push and prod and ask a million questions and get in direct contact with the doctors herself. She’d probably have felt some type of way if she had. So maybe Bianca had a point.

“Look…maybe I should have kept you more in the loop, when things were really bad,” Courtney admitted. She took another breath, wanting Bianca to understand that though she might be a little bit right, it wasn’t 100% selfish or defensive motives that kept Courtney from sharing every detail of Danny’s struggles. “But honestly, I’m really glad that you didn’t have to experience the nightmares, or stomach issues, or the meltdowns at school dropoff. Or the calls from his teacher about how he spent every recess by himself, sitting alone on the bench. Or the time when he locked himself in the bathroom stall for 3 hours. Or when he finally told me about how the relentless bullying had been going on for years, and the school just denied it all, trying to fight them and get him the services he needed and finally pulling him out because I just, I didn’t know what else to do…” 

“I’m sorry you had to go through all that on your own,” Bianca said softly, shaking her head. 

“I probably should have shared more with you, but…” Courtney could feel a lump rising to her throat, tears stinging her eyes. 

“No, I get why you didn’t.” 

“I didn’t want to burden you. Especially when I didn’t have any answers,” Courtney said. She looked down, hating the memory of her sweet little boy suffering so much, and how powerless she’d felt.   

“Maybe you also didn’t want me to judge you.” 

“Or that.” Courtney dabbed at her eyes with a napkin. “Um…what did Dr. Caldwell say? When you spoke to them?” 

“Just that…he’s a fantastic kid, and he’s been doing so much better since he started at Crossroads, like you said, and…and that you’d done everything you could to protect him, even when that fucking school was trying to gaslight you both. And that you probably have grounds for a major lawsuit.” 

Courtney chuckled, shaking her head. “I’d rather put the resources we have into helping other kids, not taking money from LAUSD.” 

“Saint Courtney strikes again,” Bianca teased. 

“Hardly. I’m just…glad he’s in a better place now. I’m glad I could afford to get him what he needed. It’s hard enough even when we’ve got resources, you know?”

“I fucking do,” Bianca said, nodding. “I’m sure you’ve heard all about Adore’s current…situation.” 

“I know she’s struggling with school, and I’ve been doing what I can to help, but-” 

“Oh, it’s way more than that,” Bianca said bitterly. “She hasn’t told about how much we’re fighting?” 

“The two of you?” Courtney asked, and off Bianca’s expectant nod, shook her head. “No. I don’t think they like to tell on us that way. What’s going on?” 

Bianca let out a tense exhale. She seemed to be considering what she wanted to say, or maybe how to say it.

“Our apartment’s turned into a fucking war zone,” she finally admitted, sounding and looking more defeated than Courtney could ever remember. “She’s so angry, all the time-” 

“At you?” Courtney asked. 

She was having a hard time picturing it. Not because she’d never seen Adore angry—on the contrary, Adore had always been a kid very much in touch with her inner rage. But Adore idolized Bianca. She always had. And regardless, what Courtney had seen lately from her daughter wasn’t anger, it was hopelessness. And self loathing. Thinking she wasn’t good enough, wasn’t smart enough, would never live up to anyone’s expectations. 

More often than not, their homework FaceTime sessions involved Adore’s head on the table, tears dripping down her face as Courtney told her to put the schoolwork away and did her best to remind her that she was loved and supported and that things would get easier eventually. That an ability to solve algebraic equations, read Mandarin and understand The Iliaddidn’t determine anyone’s worth. 

Frankly, knowing that Adore’s fiery temper was still present made Courtney feel a little bit better. Knowing that she still had fight in her, that she wasn’t completely engulfed in hopeless despair. 

It didn’t seem to be any comfort to Bianca though, who answered, “At me, at her teachers, at the world. Once she decided that she couldn’t do this schoolwork, she stopped trying at all, which of course led to disciplinary problems, and of course that meant that all her snotty little friends’ parents deemed her a troublemaker and-”

Bianca looked down again, her breath hitching. The napkin in her hand was shredded to bits. 

“And I know I’m doing everything wrong,” she finished, voice breaking. 

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Courtney said gently. She may have occasionally questioned Bianca’s decisions, but there was never any doubt how much she loved their children. 

“No, it is. I can’t help it. We’re too much alike, I think,” Bianca let out a disappointed laugh. “I can never stay calm, not like you. I scream back at her, like a complete asshole. Like my…fucking father.” 

“You don’t think I ever lose my patience?” Courtney asked. 

“Not like this, not…I can’t get through to her. So I lose it, and it’s not…I know it’s not okay, but I don’t know how to…” 

Courtney could see it in her eyes: the self-loathing, the anger, the frustration. Bianca had always been hard on people, but she was hardest on herself. Just like their daughter. She reached across the table to put a hand on hers, before she had time to begin tearing apart the new napkin she’d picked up. It was meant to be soothing, but it only seemed to make Bianca more emotional. She shook her head and looked up at Courtney. 

“I don’t know why I feel like this. I mean, I’m supposed to be the parent, I’m supposed to be the mature one. But when it feels like she’s mad at me, I just want to fucking cry…” Bianca let out a humorless laugh, “What’s wrong with me?” 

“Nothing’s wrong with you,” Courtney said. “She’s cool, and you want her to like you.” 

“Ugh, god, that’s so pathetic,” Bianca groaned. “What am I back in high school wishing the popular girls didn’t hate me?”

“Awwww…” Courtney squeezed her hand one more time before letting go. 

“Don’t ‘aw’ me, you were a loser in high school, too,” Bianca said, rolling her eyes and sniffling. 

“Was not! I was very popular in high school!” Courtney insisted, laughing. 

“Really?” Bianca lifted one eyebrow, a corner of her mouth twitching up as the mischievous twinkle appeared in her eyes. “Cause the pictures of you in headgear beg to differ.” 

“Um, excuse me, I got that off when I was 16, and became friends with all the cheerleaders,” said Courtney, crossing her arms, glad that Bianca seemed shaken out of her gloom and all too happy to play along with this bit. “And all the jocks were super jealous.” 

“Oh yeah?” Bianca asked, tilting her head.

“Yeah!”

The smirk pulling at her lips made one dimple appear in Bianca’s cheek, giving Courtney a sense of victory. “Of you, or them?”

“Listen…when they weren’t calling me faggot, they were pretty well convinced that I was fucking all their girlfriends,” she said triumphantly.

“And were you? Fucking all their girlfriends?” Bianca asked, now fully amused, dimples deepening in both cheeks. 

“Well…” Courtney faltered a bit, slightly chagrined, before explaining, “Not…all of them, I’m not an animal.” 

“Good for you.”

Their eyes met, both of them laughing now. It eased the tension enough that Courtney felt brave enough to broach the subject that had been nagging her for the past five minutes.  

“So, um…I know it’s been pretty stressful, but I hope you’re taking care of yourself,” she said. “Because…I know how hard it was for you to quit smoking before…” 

Bianca’s eyes widened in alarm, and she began to ask, “What are you-” before stopping abruptly, shoulders sagging. “How the fuck did you know?”

Courtney pointed out the pile on the table, of shredded remnants formerly known as Napkin. 

“Fuck,” Bianca muttered. She dropped the second napkin, sighing. “It’s less than half a pack a day. Don’t look at me like that-” 

“I’m not-” Courtney began.

“-It’s my only vice.”

At that, Courtney couldn’t help raising her eyebrows. “Your only vice?” 

“Okay, besides alcohol,” Bianca conceded. “But I don’t binge drink anymore. Usually. And I haven’t done drugs in like, years.”

“How many years, exactly?” Courtney asked, curious.

“Oh, shut up, like you’re so squeaky-clean, Ms. Burning Man?!” Bianca scoffed. 

“I never claimed to be!” Courtney laughed, holding her hands up innocently. “But B, cigarettes?” 

“Please don’t start…”  

“I’m just saying. There are better things. You know weed is legal here,” Courtney said. 

“Oh yeah? Got any on hand?” she asked, giving another big eye roll. 

“Sure.”

“Seriously?” Bianca actually looked shocked. 

“Yeah,” Courtney nodded. “Not for smoking though, just edibles. Do you want some?” 

“Uh…kind of,” Bianca admitted. “Well, I don’t know. Do I?”

“You’re not planning to drive, are you?” 

“Why?” 

“Just that you probably want to be alert for these curves. Otherwise I’d have made the coffee Irish.” 

“Oh. I wish you had,” Bianca groaned, rubbing her forehead. 

 “Sorry.” Courtney bit her lip. She probably should never have brought up the smoking issue. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I was judging. I just-”

“I know how you feel about cigarettes,” Bianca said. “It’s why I quit the first time.” 

“I know.” Courtney gave her a soft smile. 

When they met, Bianca had considered herself a ‘casual’ smoker, but even her one-pack-a-week habit was too much for Courtney. She hated the smell; it had always been a migraine trigger. So Bianca quit, slapping on a patch and spilling the rest of the pack she’d started into the toilet, flushing them down. “I’m pretty sure that’s for narcotics,” Courtney had informed her, but Bianca had insisted that it was “symbolic.” She wrapped her arms around Courtney’s waist, giving her a soft, nicotine-free kiss. “If I’ve got you, I don’t need cigarettes.” Turned out, she was perhaps a little too hung-ho, since kicking the habit altogether was easier said than done. In fact, she probably would have taken it up again had she not gotten pregnant with the twins. 

Courtney swallowed, conflicted about how the memory made her feel. Bianca’s voice was what snapped her out of it. 

“Look, if it makes you feel better, I’ve never smoked around Adore. Not once.” 

“Okay,” Courtney said. “Thanks. I’m sorry if I was too…personal.” 

“It’s fine. I should…” She sighed. “I should stop anyway, I just…it’s been fucking rough. You know?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Which is why, uh…” Bianca swallowed, shaking her head. “You know how much I hate to admit when I’m wrong, but…” 

“Wrong about…?” 

“The kids, school, how…how hard this year would be for Adore. So…” She closed her eyes, letting out a soft, “sorry…” 

“Take your time…” Courtney assured her. 

Bianca sighed and opened her eyes again. “I think maybe you were right about the kids going to school together. I think…I think it would help Adore to have Danny around. And to be in a school that’s less…traditional, I guess. Competitive. Or…” 

“Okay, that’s…so, are you looking for other schools?” Courtney asked, not quite following where Bianca was struggling to say but attempting to be helpful. “Do you need advice, because I know a website I could send you that evaluates-” 

“I registered her at Crossroads,” Bianca cut in. 

“You…” Courtney blinked. Crossroads was Danny’s school. It was a 20 minute drive from them, but a very long way from New York City. 

“I’m here for awhile, while I get the new stores up and running. The investors are in Century City, and they want me to have an office there. So I asked the school if she could enroll, as like a trial thing, to see if she does any better, and they said okay. She still has to officially go through the whole application process, but unofficially, they said it’s pretty-” 

“You’re planning to move to LA?” Courtney asked, still trying to wrap her mind around what Bianca was saying.

“Maybe. I mean, yes, part time. I don’t…I don’t know. It depends how things go, I guess. I just, I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said, about what went down when I was moving to New York, and…I think you were right about how fucked up that letter was. And if I’d played fair, we probably wouldn’t ever have left. So…” 

“So…she’s going to school here? And she’s okay leaving her friends, and-” Courtney suppressed a smile, trying not to show how utterly thrilled she was. It would be too much like gloating. 

“Yeah, she’s very excited to learn how to braid hemp,” Bianca deadpanned. 

“Funny,” said Courtney, attempting sarcasm but failing, the grin spreading across her face. “I think she’ll really like Crossroads, actually. I think this will be…really good for her.”

“Don’t look so fucking proud of yourself,” Bianca said, rolling her eyes. “You were wrong about some things, too!” 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah, like you said I can never compromise, but here I am. Fucking compromising. Are you gonna give me any goddamn credit for that?” she barked. 

“I…” Courtney raised her eyebrows, unsure of how to respond. 

“And you’re supposed to be the optimist here, but you didn’t give us any credit!” Bianca burst out, getting more animated as she spoke. “You acted like we can’t change, we can’t learn, but both of us already have, so much. So why can’t we teach them what love should look like?! Huh?” 

“I…” Courtney looked into Bianca’s brown eyes, which were flashing with anger. But something else too, something like hope. Courtney wasn’t sure what to think, what to make of this, which felt like it had come out of nowhere. “I don’t-”

“Fuck!” Bianca exclaimed suddenly, making Courtney jump, startled. Bianca covered her face with her hands, shaking her head. “This is all wrong, I did this all fucking wrong. This isn’t how I wanted to…” 

*

It had been so simple, in her head. How she wanted to tell Courtney everything she felt. Profess her love, her desires, and then leave it in her hands. No expectations. Calm, gentle, loving... Instead, what was supposed to be a declaration of love had turned into a shit show. She was fucking yelling at her. No wonder her face was a mix of confusion, fear and horror. 

“Look, I just think that…” Bianca took a deep breath, trying to explain calmly, ignoring the tears filling her eyes. “I just think that the most important thing, about love, is that you don’t walk away. You…don’t give up, even when it’s hard. And yeah, we’ve got problems. I know that. No one’s ever accused me of being Pollyanna. But…look, we can learn how to fight properly. They teach that shit. We just need a good therapist.” 

“Therapist?” Courtney asked, face still a strange combination of hard-to-read emotions. “I thought you were against couples therapy.” 

“No, I was against spending money, when we were poor.” Bianca quickly wiped the tears off her cheeks.

“Oh.” 

“But you know what, let’s add marriage counseling to the list of things you were right about.” 

“B…” Courtney began, and Bianca shook her head vigorously.

“Don’t…don’t answer yet. I just wanted to say that I think we can do it. We’re older, less stupid…most of the time. We’ve got more resources. So…why not focus on what we do well? Like…raising really fucking great kids.” 

“We do,” Courtney said, a smile tugging at her lips. 

“Right! And…we’re really, really good at loving each other. We are.” Bianca had a flash in her mind, of Courtney’s letters, the passionate, messily-scrawled love notes, her heart on the page, how everything she wrote was still inside of her somewhere. It had to be. “You even said that when it’s good, it’s…it’s amazing. So let’s do that part, the amazing part, and fucking fix the rest.” 

“I…” Courtney faltered. “I just…I don’t think-” 

“And before you decide,” Bianca barreled on, determined to get it all out before Courtney had a chance to push her away, “You should know that I already found a therapist, who specializes in like, complicated queer family situations. Dr. Caldwell recommended her. She’s based in the Palisades, and she’s trans. I have an appointment for Tuesday at 11. I really hope…that you’ll come. Whatever happens with us, we owe it to each other to work this shit out. As much as we can. Even if it’s just for the sake of the kids.” 

“Yeah, that’s…that’s a good point,” Courtney said, her voice thick with emotion. 

Bianca could see that she was melting, that she was truly listening. 

“Look, you don’t have to give me an answer now,” Bianca said, taking her hand. “I’ll be here for awhile, so…just…think about it. And then tell me what you want.”

“What do you want?” Courtney asked softly, eyes shimmering with tears. 

This was it. Her actual chance, to say what she wanted to say. 

“I want to be with you,” Bianca told her, voice breaking, but continuing anyway. “I fucking…I fucking love you, so much. I’ve never stopped loving you. Another thing you were wrong about, by the way, is when you said that I probably don’t follow your career. I’ve watched every video you’ve ever made.” 

Courtney laughed incredulously, gazing at Bianca in disbelief. “Really?” 

“Really. And if you need to be here, to be comfortable, or happy, or secure, whatever your reason is…then I want to be here, too. Wherever you are. You kind of undersold this house, by the way. It’s…pretty spectacular.” 

“Well…selling out can be lucrative,” Courtney managed to joke through her tears. 

“I see that.” Bianca moved closer, taking slow, shallow breaths, their eyes now locked together. She reached out for Courtney’s other hand. “So…that’s what I want. For us to actually try. To be a family. To be…us, again. But better.” 

“I…” Courtney breathed, and Bianca waited, her heart in her throat, to hear what she would say. 

[purplesurveys]

1642

Was your childhood wasted by something? Normalcy, I guess. Everyone I went to school with had both parents at home everyday, so I thought I was weird, unfair, and confusing that my own dad worked abroad and my mom worked the graveyard shift. All the men in the duplex I used to live in either drank or smoked or both. Every time I went to a friend’s house and saw both parents or a family eating dinner together inviting me to eat with them, it was always a mix of “Why isn’t it the same at ours?” and “This is such a breath of fresh air.”

Would you rather die during an adventure or die like a normal person? When you say adventure, the way I understand it is like falling off a cliff or getting accidentally wiped out by a passing train lol. That said, I’d much rather die in a bed.

Have your parents ever put you on a diet? No, I’ve never seriously needed to be in one.

Have your parents ever tried to commit suicide? I had one threaten to do it but I hate that memory and try to never resurface it.

Do you have a gag reflex? Yeah.

Do you ever fantasize about trying drugs? ‘Fantasize’ isn’t the right word for it...it’s always been just a very vague curiosity to try it. Last year I got to try vaping cannabis oil or whatever the fuck it was and it gave me the most horrible reaction, so I don’t plan on ever taking drugs.

Have you ever put gum in someone’s hair? No, such a crappy thing to do.

Would you rather have sex before you’re married or wait till marriage? Well I didn’t, but it honestly doesn’t matter to me. If my hypothetical next partner wanted to wait, I wouldn’t have a problem with it.

Have you ever not gone to school, just because? So many times. I’ve done it for work too, albeit a lot more infrequently. Do you know anyone who can play the bagpipes? No, I’ve never even seen one in real life.

Have you ever let someone hit you? Playfully, yeah. In the rare times someone hit me intentionally, I always hit back.

Do you own a hand warmer? Absolutely no use for something like that here.

Do you have friends in other states/countries? They were my friends when they used to live here, but we’ve all grown apart since. We remain mutuals on social media but that’s as far as it gets.

Do you ever pay attention during church? Nah. I use the entire hour to daydream or think about what to eat for lunch.

Have you ever broke a window? Nopes.

When was the last time you freaked someone out? Yesterday because I had to give my mom the news that Cooper aggressively bit the entire lower half of my face and it wasn’t looking good. She was out having lunch with my grandma, so I felt super bad that I had to interrupt it the way I did, but then again it was a serious emergency and she would’ve probably been a million times more worried and angrier if I had waited for her to come home before telling her.

Have you ever gone on a date with a weirdo? No.

Who’s the last person you called a bitch? Probably my sister but it’s always as a joke or as a filler word.

Do you drink kool-aid? I’ve never had it before.

Have you ever dropped something hot on your foot? YES, tteokbokki sauce that was fresh out the microwave. Pain you wouldn’t believe, lmao.

Do you watch porn?: Yeah but it’s on a very once-in-a-while basis. I’ll watch if I’m in the mood for it, which isn’t often in the first place. Have you ever missed someone you hated? No. Bridges burned remain burned.

Is anyone in your family disabled? I have an aunt with Down syndrome.

What do you want for Christmas? I just ask for anything BTS-related lol but I always encourage them not to get pressured and to just get knockoffs because it’d be hard to accept authentic (i.e. EXPENSIVE) merch. If they don’t wanna bother with BTS or find it hard to pick a gift, I just ask for either food or soju hahaha.

How many moles do you have? Off the top of my head I can count 6, but I could be forgetting others.

Do you make your bed everyday? Almost never these days. My bed is super near the ceiling and I ALWAYS hit my head, much to my annoyance. Making my bed would give me 847548934 more bumps so...eh. The good thing about it is since the bed is super high up you can never see my blanket unfolded and my pillows in a heap and all, so I’m honestly unbothered about not making my bed as much anymore.

Do you know how to ride a bike? I don’t.

Do you own any comic books? I have a couple from my super short-lived comic book phase, but I haven’t touched them in years.

What is the nastiest dare you have ever committed? Eating a siomai off the ground. 

Do you know anyone who has been raped? Yep.

Are you an atheist? Yes.

Have you ever owned a goldfish? I did as a kid, yeah.

Who was the last person to call you beautiful? Not sure.

How many times have you been stung by a bee? Zero and I hope it remains zero.

What was the last flavor of gum you chewed? Can’t even remember the last time I had gum lol strawberry, I think?

When was the last time you used tape? This morning.

When was the last time you said fuck? Yesterday when I saw how much I was bleeding from Cooper’s bite and when it was slowly dawning on me that I had to abandon all my plans for the day and go to the hospital ASAP.

Have you ever stolen something? Maybe like a pen here and there, but never anything bigger than that.

What’s the last movie you watched? Decision to Leave. It wasn’t my cup of tea though so I was unable to finish. Sorry Namjoon.

Who’s the last person you watched a movie with? I watched ^ that alone.

Where were you yesterday at 5 PM? In the hospital getting five fucking injections and a skin test. Worst time.

Who would you like to kiss right now? Nobody but Korean idols I happen to have the biggest delusion towards loljk

When was the last time you had tic tacs? Years ago.

When was the last time you ate chicken? Last Friday when I had a chicken sandwich.

Who was the last person you told to ‘Shut the fuck up’ to? Probably Tae during his last live?? LOL

Why were you last nervous? Yesterday because I was told that not only 1) did I need to get five injections, and 2) my HMO doesn’t cover animal bites. Everything that happened yesterday was so stupid I feel like it was entirely a dream.

Whose pants did you last take off? Uh, just my own.

When was the last time you were disturbed? Yesterday.

Why did you last feel awkward? This morning. Context: I went to one of my clients’ events which was running the whole weekend – and there was one attendee who confirmed for today and I had to keep her company. 

Anyway, she was the one confirmation we had for Sunday so I didn’t have an excuse to ever leave her alone and start accommodating or small-talking other attendees LOL and it was a SUNDAY MORNING, so it was hard for me to keep the conversations coming, hard as I tried. There were a handful of moments we were just stuck in silence because she wasn’t so talkative herself.

When was the last time you got in a fight with your best friend? I don’t think I’ve ever quarreled with Angela since, like, grade school.

Have you ever asked someone for a tampon? No, I don’t use tampons.

Who was the last person you read a book to? I don’t think I’ve ever done that.

Who is the person you say the most naughtiest things to? Probably my ex.

Who was the last person to send you a letter? Andi.

Do you like cupcakes or muffins more? Cupcakes.

Have you ever pushed someone on purpose? Yep.

Have you ever slapped someone in the face? I definitely have, but only because I was hit first.

[max-cortez]

Maximiliano never knew what to expect when going into a conversation for the first time, though, he supposed that no one ever really did. What had started a quiet joke about being unable to sleep had turned into something else entirely. The coffee shop had become somewhat of a safe haven for him. He'd yet to run into Mallory anywhere close to it and as far as he knew, Rachel preferred Deja Brew. So, on the late nights where he should have been readying for bed or sipping a bottle of booze on his back porch with or without his trusted bunk buddy at his side, he was there, chatting up a friendly barista he now on a more personal level after inking him.

"Oh, you do serenades now? Is that part of a drink combo? I should have looked at the menu a little more closely," he teased, eyes rolling as he drummed atop the counter to give the man a usable beat to playfully sing along to.

The thing about their friendship was simple; details didn't matter. They weren't trying to piece together one another's stories for the sake of learning. They focused on what the future could hold and what Max needed more than anything was to know that it would all be alright. Oddly enough, he felt like Levi might have wanted the same.

He'd plan a few of his pieces, but some of his favorites were spontaneous and had no real meaning at all. "Tell me about it. I have some pieces that I let someone else pick out for me. No clue why they picked them, or why the hell I thought it was a good idea to give someone else that power, but hey, it all turned out alright." Trusting Adri had been the biggest jump of all. He adored the woman, but she had a way of causing playful trouble for the sake of a good laugh.

"Hey, no pressure, right? I'll do my best and try to not let you down. Give me a week or so and you can stop by the shop, or I can bring it by? Whatever works for your schedule?" He pretty much always knew what he'd work, though there were nights he stayed far later than the other artists to finish a piece for himself or for a client that was far too eager to things rolling.

Stomach rumbled as the smell of warmed up food hit him hard. He reached for the plate, but pulled back as he realized the heat was a bit too much for him. Instead, he shifted for a quick drink of his coffee that would surely have him up for another few hours before he finally found an ounce of tiredness.

"That's always been me too. It gets to be a bit much sometimes, but I've had some breaks in between to help out the artist." His biggest piece was that on his back. It started at his shoulders and trailed all the way down each side of his backside. "Shit. I think I reached the seven hour mark on my back piece and we had to tap out for the night. I think I could have pushed it another hour or two, but you know."

This was one of the few instances where Levi felt at ease in conversation with someone. Usually his interest or threshold waned and he checked out. There wasn't a big desire to get to know or get close to people, or at least not many of them. It hadn't been because of his loss, his mistakes, the abuse of alcohol over the years could be partial blame, but it was mostly wanting to avoid ever experiencing those things again. The fallout hadn't just been with his late wife, her family, his family— it had also been the police force and the judgement of the public. While no proof had been presented, rumors were enough for mass destruction.

"He works hard for the money..." Levi sang with slight alteration to the song and smiled. His fingers briefly scrubbed over his bearded jaw, and continued a little quieter, "so hard for the money..."

The good tips weren't just for him as the jar was split between all the baristas on shift for the day, and given how wealthy Levu actually was he was glad he could contribute to those that relied on the tips to fill out what the paycheck didn't provide. Max was always a generous tipper and he appreciated that about the man.

Of course Levi was curious what kept the other man up so late— could be a multitude of things like work, other obligations, he liked to go out, or maybe he was haunted in his own way.

And maybe that was it, perhaps Levi was looking for someone that he could relate to.

"I'm living proof of that with the amount of random shit I've got permanently inked on myself," he said glancing down at himself despite the fact that 90% of his tattoos weren't visible. All of his tattoos held meaning to Levi but he always downplayed them because he didn't want questions. At this point he wanted to ghost through life as much as possible since his Leaving Las Vegas moment didn't work out. Though he knew his description of his idea was out there, Levi was pleased that Max seemed on board and wanted to work something up. "Yeah, see what you can come up with. It might be a difficult concept to put into a tattoo but you're the most creative and skilled man I know."

"Alright, you got it." The sausage, egg, and cheese muffin usually hit the late night spot for him especially with the heat of the sauce that came with it so that's what he prepped and soon set in front of Max.

"Had to have been. That's impressive," he said nodding back to the picture on the phone. "I think I'd be the same too, though. No patience to wait for it to be filled in and all that." Having seen tattoos built in stages he saw the benefit of getting it all done in a few sessions. "What's the longest you've sat in the chair yourself?"

[spidernerdsblog]

Hey! Do you mind making a Tom blurb or head canon on this song

https://open.spotify.com/track/7Kux9Q1ZYx1V1j3wre0aWk?si=GgV1t-mkTcymEo2cV1IioQ&utm_source=copy-link&dl_branch=1

Hope you like this.

PILLOW TALK

Pairing : Tom Holland x Reader

Song inspo : pillow talk by Zayn Malik

Warnings : 18+, SMUT, minors DNI, fluff

You and Tom had been planning to get your own place for a longtime and after spending a rigorous amount of time house hunting you finally narrowed down to a lovely house in the sprawling suburbs of London. After you were done with the shifting you had ordered some takeout as you were cuddled together on the couch watching a romcom movie. 

But things escalated pretty quickly, the movie long forgotten as you were now in your bedroom. Tom has your hands pinned above your head as you wail his name into the pillow. His broad and muscular body above you radiates warmth, whispering in your ear how good you feel and how much he loves you as he continues to drive deeper inside you with each short frantic thrust.

Pleasure builds inside your stomach, he feels so incredibly good which has you screaming his name, pretty sure pissing of the neighbors too who might think of you guys as some sex crazed maniacs. Your legs wrap around his hips tighter “Tom, please, fuck don't stop, don't stop” you chant as your eyes screw shut.

You can feel him deep inside you as he keeps hitting that rough, spongy spot inside you, sending jolts of unadulterated pleasure through your body. Your walls clamp down around his thick length as you squirm underneath him “too good, I can’t, can’t Tom” at this point you don’t even know if you want him to stop or go harder.

“I know baby, fuck you’re so tight, squeezing me real hard—” Tom lets go of your hands and they instantly go to his back  as he pounds into you, the dull wet sounds of skin slapping against each other fills the room.

You’re breathless feeling ecstatic as he rips you apart with every obliterating thrust. Leaving you a babbling mess as the coil inside you tightens. Tom hisses when you rake your nails down his sweat-slicked back. His hand reaches between your bodies to find your sensitive bud.

“Fuck, I‘m close, cum for me, darling” his fingers strum your swollen bundle of nerves and your body convulses heat filling up your chest as everything seems a blur to you; the only sensation you could feel was him and only him. You feel yourself gush around his cock, your walls pulsating triggering his own release.

Tom collapses on top of you with his face buried in the crook of your neck, your fingers play with his hair as you catch your breath. His breath came in short pants, and he stayed like that for a few moments before you nudged him.

You winced at the sudden emptiness as he pulled out of you and rolled over to your side. You laid still too exhausted to move as your eyes wandered around the room to finally settle on Tom. His eyes were closed, a lazy smile plastered on his face as you watched his chest rise and fall as he tried to calm his breathing. Sex was always good with him which always left you wondering how it’s the most dirtiest yet the purest form of love you made. Where you feel connected through your bodies and are vulnerable to each other. 

“That was…” he trailed off, fluttering his eyes open to stare back at you.

You nodded slowly and mumbled a tired ‘mhm’. You shifted your body and rolled to the side to face him as drew the duvet up to cover your bodies. Tom reached out a hand, gently pushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear, watching your face with admiration.

“Probably the best sex we ever had” he chuckled.

“But I don’t think the neighbors are quite happy about it” you snickered.

“Well then they should get used to it because I ain’t gonna stop now that we’ve our own place”

“So you brought this house just to have sex with me” you said teasingly.

“What? No…that’s not why I bought this house” he pouted “Y/N I want to spend my life with you, I want to wake up to you everyday, I want to marry you Y/N and have a family with you, I want to grow old with you as we watch our kids grow up and I want to make all those memories in this house”

“Aww Tom that’s really sweet” you cupped his face teary eyed.

“I love you so much Y/N” he kisses you deeply.

“I love you too Tom” you whisper against his lips and nuzzle your face into his warm chest as he wrapped his arms around you keeping you closer both of you drifting off to sleep.

[btsrunmylife]

Invisible String, 4: Little Secret

summary: Sometimes the hardest thing in life is letting yourself be seen.

pairing: yoongi x f!reader

rating: explicit 🔞

genre: social media au, angst, fluff, romance

chapter word count: 1.7k + texting conversations

chapter warnings: Drug use (cannabis), swearing, hints about the mc being bisexual. That’s it, fam 🤷🏻‍♀️

permanent tag list (open):  @yoongiofmine @xianav @lilacdreams-00 @emmmui @vantxx95 @cursedblood707 @hqtetsurou​ @geauxlsu79 @lyra0cassiopeia @halesandy​ @lunaoceanchild @annoyingtimemachinee​ @babycoffeefire​ @darlinggod-sweetvillain​ @yu-justme​ @rageyoudamnednerd​ @bubblytaetae​ @aurel1ia @valhallawhispers​ @somelazysundays​ @cuteipat​ @dahliasbouqet​ @funkylittlebisexuall​ @wrmnssoul​ @saweetspoiled @infatuatedghost ​

series taglist (open): @feral-daisy @pamzn​ @jeonsy98 @secretlycrazyhummingbird

back | series masterlist

The best thing about your campus is the courtyard. Of course, everyone on campus agrees and it’s always incredibly crowded at pretty much any time of the day. That’s why you’ve found a spot of your own, right next to the library, underneath the shade of a tree. It’s quiet there, off the beaten path, and nobody ever bothers you. And it just so happens to be across campus from the courtyard.

It’s where you often eat your lunch…and study in between classes…and escape when you need space from your classmates…as well as plan out the radio show you host in the evenings. 

Your radio show isn’t nearly as glamorous as it sounds. Not many people listen, nor does it have a massive following on social media, but that doesn’t matter to you. It’s something to keep you entertained (as well as give you a bit of extra credit toward your Communications Major), a space of your own where you can talk about anything and everything that interests you – and more often than not those things are ghost stories and urban legends. You could spend hours researching that stuff and all the history is enough to keep you talking for hours.

It’s probably a good thing nobody listens, actually.

You’re just jotting down a few ideas for that night’s show in the notes app on your phone when you get a new DM.

~*~*~

You’re not really one to skip class. Sure, you’ve stayed home from school a few times for a much needed break, but you’ve never blatantly walked out the back door and across the parking lot when you should be heading toward your next class before.

It’s kind of terrifying. You half expect for the professor or campus security to jump out of nowhere and start screaming about getting back to class.

As if your school has guards at every exit, waiting to pounce on the students it holds captive.

That doesn’t actually happen though. Even if your heart beats a touch too hard in your chest and you keep looking over your shoulder the entire way, it’s fine.

By the time you make it across the parking lot and start walking across the various sports fields that lay between you and the football field, you can’t quite believe how easy it was to just…walk off. That there are actually no real or immediate repercussions for not going to class.

Except a mark against your attendance, which counts toward your final grade, and…you know…wasting thousands of dollars to be there.

But, you know…

You smell Yoongi before you see him, which has you wrinkling your nose in slight disgust as you round the field and peer beneath the bleachers.

“Seriously? This is where you chose to go?” you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest.

Yoongi grins at you from around his joint, sucking air between his teeth as he takes it out of his mouth. “Yup.”

“Aren’t you going to smell like that for the rest of the day?”

“Probably. You will too if you stand too close.” He eyes you, fragrant smoke billowing from his mouth. “Why? This bother you?” 

You shift uncomfortably on your feet, glancing around, now feeling even more paranoid about getting caught. “No…”

He lifts an eyebrow, a slow smirk twitching at his lips. “No? Want a hit?” 

You scoff. “Also no.” 

He shrugs. “More for me.” 

“Is that why you invited me out here? To get high with you?” 

“Nah, figured you’d enjoy staring at me in the light of the sun. It’s a rare sight.” He winks. “Plus, I’d rather get high than go to Mr. Troy’s class. I fucking hate that guy.” 

You eye a spot on the ground before throwing caution to the wind and sinking into the grass beside him. “Why?”

“You think I’m his favorite,” he grumbles, side-eying you. “Why do you think that?”

You purse your lips and wrap your arms around your folded legs, hugging them to your chest. “I don’t know. He’s always calling on you in class.”

He hums around another drag of his joint. “Right,” he breathes. “Why do you think that is?”

“Because you’re a good student?” you question, perplexed by the line of questioning.

He hacks out something between a laugh and a cough, shooting you an incredulous look. “You have how many classes with me this semester? Do I seem like a good student to you?”

You choke a little on the smoke he blows into your face, waving your hand in front of you with a scrunched nose. Come to think of it, you don’t actually know if Yoongi is a good student or not. Sure, he seems to pay enough attention in class to get by, but how much evidence do you have that he actually does well?

But, well, you suppose sitting here with him while he smokes pot instead of going to class says a lot.

“I–”

“Exactly,” he coughs out. “I’m not. He calls on me because he’s an old white guy and I’m fucking asian and supposed to be good at math.”

You bawk at his angry outburst, although you can see why he’d be so miffed about it. You’d never really put that together before. You just assumed Yoongi was actually…well, good at math and that’s why Mr. Troy called on him so often.

You blink. “So…you’re…not good at math?”

He gives you a flat look. “Are you serious–”

“No, wait!” you rush to say. “I’m only asking because Mr. Troy treats you like you are.”

He rolls his eyes and leans his shoulders back against the edge of a bleacher, eyebrows drawn into an angry frown. “I hate math.”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles in your throat. “That’s not what I asked.”

He narrows his eyes at you, but his lips twitch up at the edges. “Shut the fuck up. I’m not some brainiac or some shit. I get a few answers right and a few wrong, just like everyone else.”

You hold up your hands in surrender. “Okay, fine, whatever you say.”

He stares hard at you and it’s in that moment you realize just how hidden away the two of you are, just how alone you are.

You clear your throat and glance away, subtly shifting away from him.

Apparently, it’s not subtle enough because he huffs out a laugh. “Do I make you nervous, y/n?”

You startle when you feel his arm brush yours and you quickly look to see him leaning into your space.

“You sure you don’t want a hit to calm your nerves?”

He sticks it back between his lips and you’re momentarily transfixed by the sight of them pursed around the joint, by the way they part to let the smoke billow from his mouth.

Your gaze flits to the tattoo on his neck, a new point of interest that captures your attention. Even so close, you can’t tell what it is, only half visible from beneath his jacket.

You suck in a sharp breath at the feel of his fingertips lightly tracing your arm and quickly jump to your feet.

He smirks and readjusts his position, squinting up at you with a lifted brow.

“We should go before campus security does their rounds,” you mutter the sad excuse, knowing he doesn’t buy it.

He grunts and scoots forward on the ground, only to lay on the ground with his arms behind his head. “I just got here. My smoke break isn't over yet.”

You shift uneasily on your feet, glancing in the direction of the school and wondering how to make a graceful exit. Wondering if you should.

A soft sigh escapes him as he looks at you, then settles back with his eyes closed and a murmured, “You’re not going to get caught skipping class. This isn’t like high school. Nobody knows who you are or where you’re supposed to be. Don’t worry about it.”

Warm relief settles in your chest and you offer a weak smile he can’t see.

When you start to walk away, he shouts after you, “Hey, Ghost!”

You pause, a little shocked and startled by the sudden nickname. “Huh?”

He blinks at you lazily from beneath a haze of smoke. “You know to avoid the math room’s windows, right?”

An indignant squeak sneaks from your throat and you roll your eyes before turning around and trudging away.

You may not do this often, but you’re not a complete idiot.

The laughter that trails behind you makes you want to both steal his precious joint from his lips and pin him to the ground and –

Well, damn. Maybe you do need a healthy way to work out your frustration after all.

next

[dreamerstreamer]

Pocket Knife Prince

Pairing: c!Technoblade x gn!reader

Summary: [Dream SMP!AU] You’ve liked Technoblade from the moment he joined Pogtopia, but you could never quite bring yourself to confess. Who knew it would only take a pocket knife and some potatoes to change that?

Warnings: minor cursing & one slightly out of pocket joke

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: this a repost of an older story i had posted a while back. this story takes place back when technoblade was still allied with pogtopia. i hope you enjoy! <3

You huffed as you pulled yourself up another rung on the ladder, your arms straining as you did your best to keep yourself balanced. You still couldn’t fathom why Tommy thought it was a good idea to dig straight down.

“I’ll hit a cave, eventually,” he had told you as he grabbed a pickaxe, already starting to mine away at the space beneath his feet.

“Maybe,” you had said. “But what if you hit a lava pool? Do you really want to burn alive?”

“Oh, I have a backup plan in case I fuck up.” He held up a bucket of water, grinning at you. “Bam. Fucking foolproof.”

Yeah, sure, you thought to yourself with a grimace as you continued to haul yourself upward. You might not have died while digging down, but I might die while climbing up. 

Pausing, you reached behind you to adjust the strap of your back with a cry of frustration. This is way too heavy—I should have gone back earlier.

You looked back up again, squinting for a second before your eyes lit up. At long last, light! You were at least somewhat close to the entrance, now. “Just a bit more climbing,” you muttered to yourself as you reached up once more, “and then you’ll be able to take this stupid bag off.”

A few moments later, you gasped as you finally dragged yourself out of the vertical tunnel, standing up on shaky legs. Without even an ounce of hesitation, you swung your pack off your back, dumping it onto the dusty earth ungracefully. Your muscles practically screamed with relief as you rolled back your shoulders, a wide smile stretching across your face.

“Hey, boys!” you shouted, your voice echoing in the tall ravine. “Guess who’s back?!”

You heard some rumbling, then a tuft of blond hair peeked out from one of the overhanging pillars. “Big [Y/N]!” Tommy shouted, waving at you. “You took for-fuckin’-ever to get back.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s not my fault we needed so much stuff.” You narrowed your gaze. “Also, your ladder idea sucks.” 

Tommy scowled. “My ladder idea is fucking genius, you bi—”

A new voice cut in. “Tommy, that’s enough.”

You smiled triumphantly as you watched Tommy immediately shrink back, his tone quieting as he grumbled defeatedly, “Yes, Wilbur.”

Giving him a quick ruffle of his hair, Wilbur strolled down the ravine’s cobblestone steps down to the bottom. He pulled his hands out of his coat pockets as he flashed you a grin. “Welcome back, [Y/N]. How was the trip?”

You offered him a weary but satisfied look. “Oh, you know. Dark. Dusty. The usual. But…” Bending down, you flipped open the top of your pack and pulled out a smaller sack, shaking it in front of his face. “…I got all that gold you wanted! There’s probably a little less than seven stacks in there, which will be plenty if we want to make some golden apples.”

Wilbur blinked at you, his eyebrows raised in surprise as a smile began to tug at his lips. “Not that I doubt you or anything,” he said, “but where in the world did you manage to get nearly seven stacks of gold?”

You shrugged nonchalantly, dropping the bag into his hands with a hum. “In a cave.” When he stared at you in stunned silence, you quirked a brow at him. “What? It’s not like it was hard.”

He was grinning now, shaking his head. “You’re batshit crazy, [Y/N]. That’s incredible.”

You smiled sheepishly at his words. “For the record,” you pointed out, “I didn’t do it all in a single day or anything. I was gone for, like, half a week.”

“That’s still really good work, alright?” He reached over, playfully punching your shoulder. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

You winced, shooting him a dirty look. “Ow, that hur—”

“Oh, you’re back.”

Your head whipped around at the sound of low, rumbling voice. Your frown vanished at the sight of Technoblade standing a few feet away from you, a basket of potatoes held in his gloved hands. You felt your heart swell and a bright grin replace your scowl as you bounced over to him. “Hi, Techno!” you chirped.

He smiled back at you, his gaze kind. “Hello.”

From behind you, Wilbur let out a distressed noise. “Jeez, you seem so excited to talk to him but barely batted an eye at me. Did you miss him that much?”

You stuck your tongue out at him, trying to hide the flush of your cheeks. “More than I did you.”

Tommy cackled as he walked by, adjusting the straps of the pack in his hands. “Ouch. Maybe you should get some ice for that burn, Wilbur.”

Wilbur grimaced, opening his mouth to retort when his gaze suddenly lit up. “Actually,” he said, turning, “speaking of ice, who wants to go with me to the Nether to destroy some of the SMP’s and Manberg’s ice roads?” A devilish grin split across his face. “I figured that it would slow them down a bunch and they’d spend less time focusing on us, so it’ll be easier for us to get into contact with Tubbo.”

You blinked at him, then sent him a teasing smile. “Wilbur, this might one of the only good ideas you’ve had since starting a drug cartel.”

“Thank y—wait, is that a compliment?”

“Man,” Technoblade sighed, rolling his eyes at him, “just take it as one and let your ego coast on that for the next six months.”

“Anyways,” Wilbur said, ignoring him and moving on, “who wants to come with me?”

You shook your head, shifting your weight from foot to foot. “No thanks. I just got back from a long, long mining trip. I think I’m due for some time off.”

Wilbur nodded. “Alright, fair.” His gaze moved to the figure standing next to you. “Techno?”

Technoblade simply raised the basket of potatoes in his hands. “Nah. I’ve got my hands full here.”

Wilbur made a face, a hint of desperation seeping into his eyes. “You can farm potatoes any time,” he said, his voice raising a pitch or two. “How about you just come with m—”

“Why don’t I just go?”

Wilbur froze, and he turned with a shaky smile. “A-Are you sure about that, Tommy? You sure you don’t just want to stay in the ravine with [Y/N]?”

Tommy shrugged, flipping the stick in his hand. “Not really. It’s not like I have anything better to do, anyways.” He nudged the pack at his feet. “I’m even packed and ready to go, too.”

Wilbur swallowed, and you could have sworn a bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. “You really want to come?” he added, sounding more and more uncertain with each word that passed his lips.

“I dunno, Wilbur,” Technoblade spoke up, quirking his lips at him, “but it almost sounds like you don’t want to bring Tommy with you.”

Tommy gasped, looking appalled. “What the hell, Will? Of course you want me to go with you, right?”

Wilbur turned on his heel, dragging a tired hand over his face. “Sure, Tommy. Let’s just say that.” He strode away toward the stairs, practically stomping his way up to the second floor. “Just give me a second to grab a pack,” he sighed, waving a hand behind him. “I’ll be down in like five minutes.”

Tommy threw his hands in the air, waving his stick. “Fuck yeah!”

Technoblade let out a quiet chuckle, turning on his heel. “Well, I’m gonna go back to farming.”

You glanced at him shyly, trailing after him. “Can I come with?”

His step faltered, and he turned to send you a fond look. “Always.”

Your heart lit up at the sight and you grinned, following him into the garden room. The entirety of the floor had been replaced with dirt, tiny streams of water weaving their way around the potato patches. You let out a quiet hum as Technoblade set the basket of potatoes on the ground, grabbing a hoe from its place on the wall and walking over to the makeshift field. Digging the blade of the hoe into the earth, he pulled back and repeated the motion until the soft, dark soil was exposed to the air. Leaning back against the wall, a soft smile crept onto your face as you watched.

You remembered when Technoblade first arrived in the Dream SMP, all those months ago. You had been sitting in the ravine, peeling an apple with a pocket knife as you chatted with Wilbur, when Tommy burst in with a deafening shout about “the blade”. Raising your head, you had opened your mouth to make a snarky retort, but the words died in your mouth the minute you laid eyes on him.

He looked like a prince—a handsome one, at that.

While Wilbur had jumped down to greet Technoblade with a friendly hug, you had simply stared at the newcomer, pocket knife in your hand and apple slice in the other. As Tommy brought Technoblade over to you and asked you to introduce yourself, you remembered that dizzy pink feeling rising in your chest as you blurted the first thing that came to mind.

“Want an apple slice?”

You had expected him to be confused, shaking his head and pulling away with a disgusted look. But instead, his gaze flickered to your hand.

“I’d rather have the knife.”

You had blinked at him for a moment, stunned, then burst into laughter, outstretching your hand with the pocket knife handle extended toward him. He had offered you a small, awkward smile back, gingerly taking the knife from you. When his hands brushed against yours, that hazy, rosy feeling swelled in your chest again.

Ever since that moment, you’d only fallen harder and harder.

It was difficult to put into words just what drew you to Technoblade. Of course, he was pretty, but you weren’t that shallow. He had an awkward charm to him, something that seeped into every aspect of his being. He was hardworking, determined, sarcastic, and oh-so very real. You couldn’t name one thing about him that you didn’t like, really. You loved his laughter that came in brief, giggling bursts. Every time he smiled, you couldn’t help but smile back. He never failed to keep you guessing, and you loved every second you spent with him.

You weren’t sure how far you’d fallen at this point, but you knew one thing, and it was that there was no going back.

“Hey,” a new voice said suddenly, pulling you away from your thoughts. You turned, watching Tommy stick his head into the room. “Can I have some potatoes for the trip?”

Your eyes shot to Technoblade, who paused for a moment, then nodded, gesturing to the basket at his feet. “Sure. You can have a couple.”

Tommy grinned, strolling in to lean down and pluck three potatoes from the pile. Standing back up again, he toed the basket, tossing and catching a potato in his hands. “Hey, Techno,” he said, “don’t you ever get tired of farming these things?”

Technoblade paused, patting down the dirt he had just covered another potato with. “Eh, not really.” His eyes flickered with contentment, and you felt your lips twitch. “I like it.”

Tommy frowned. “But,” he said, “it’s so fucking boring.”

You gasped, shooting him a glare. “Tommy! That’s mean.”

“What? Am I wrong?” He flung his arm out to point at the tilled dirt, clearly unimpressed. “All he’s doing is the same fucking thing over and over, again. We’re in a war, [Y/N]. Why can’t he just spar with me or something?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, deadpanning. “Tommy, the last time you sparred with Technoblade, you lasted less than ten seconds.” 

He grew quiet. “Okay, well, you didn’t have to put it like that, but—”

“What? Am I wrong?” you said, mimicking him.

A second passed. Then two.

“…touché, [Y/N].”

“Tommy!” Wilbur’s voice echoed from the top of the stairs, his head popping out from between the railings. “You ready to go?”

Without missing a beat, Tommy whipped around, rushing out of the farm room and slipping up the stairs. “I’m coming!”

A smirk tugged at Wilbur’s lips. “Heh.”

“Wha—oh, Will! That’s fucking disgusting.”

“But it was funny,” you called out after the youngest.

“Fuck off, [Y/N]!”

Beside you, Technoblade let out a laugh, his eyes curving into two crescent moons as he set down the hoe and picked up a shovel. With a fond smile gracing your lips, you took a step toward him, leaning down to take a closer look. There was something so endearing about knowing someone as powerful as Technoblade had a hobby as mundane as farming—farming potatoes, to be more specific. 

You liked it. A lot. You liked him a lot.

You wondered how much longer you could go without saying it aloud.

“Hey, Techno,” you murmured, watching his ears perk up at the sound of your voice, “could you teach me the best way to plant potatoes?”

He paused, his shovel planting itself in the earth as he turned to look at you, his lips parted in surprise. “Y-You actually want to learn?”

You bobbed your head, praying that your face wasn’t growing any warmer. “Of course. Fighting’s fun and all, but there’s more to life than just bloodshed.” You flashed him a bright grin. “Besides, an army needs food to fight!”

With a small grin, he gestured for you step closer. “You want to make sure you dig about six to eight inches down,” he explained, gesturing down the hole with his finger. “If you don’t dig deep enough, then the potato will be too close to the surface, and if you dig too deep, it’ll have a harder time reaching the top.”

You nodded, your tongue swiping over your lips in concentration. Technoblade let out a brief cough, turning away with a slight flush to his cheeks as he grabbed a potato from the basket next to him. “Then,” he continued, “grab a potato. You’ll want to cut it in half down the middle and plant it so the cut side is facing downwards.”

Sticking a hand into his pocket, he rummaged around for a second before pulling out a familiar pocket knife. Your eyes flashed with recognition as he flipped the blade open and sliced through the potato with ease.

“Is that,” you began slowly, your tone tentative and gentle, “my pocket knife? From when we first met?”

Technoblade’s hands faltered as he sliced, his gaze flickering to you with a bashful look. “It’s—um, yeah. Does… does that bother you?”

You immediately shook your head, waving your hands in front of you. “No, not at all! I-I was just wondering. I haven’t seen it in a while, that’s all.”

He lowered his chin, and you could have sworn his cheeks were pink. “I’ve been taking good care of it,” he admitted quietly, his gaze not meeting yours. “It’s important to me.”

You blinked, your heart beating faster in your chest. “It is?” you whispered.

He nodded. “It is.”

You wanted to curl up into a ball and squeal. It only took two simple words from him to send you into a flurry of awkward smiles and blushing whines. You couldn’t believe just how far gone you were.

Technoblade stretched a hand toward you, half of the potato he cut clutched between his fingers. “Here. You try planting one.”

With a shaky hand, you gently pulled the potato from his hands, nearly flinching at the feeling of his skin brushing against yours. Carefully, you reached over and set the potato face down like he had instructed. You pointed your hand toward the pile of dirt lying just beside the hole, about to start covering the potato when his arm shot out in front of you.

“Wait,” he said suddenly, making you freeze in place. “You don’t have gloves on. I don’t want your hands to get dirty.”

You sent him a small smile, waving a hand dismissively at him. “A little dirt never hurt anyone.”

He didn’t budge. “Please. Let me.”

That fuzzy feeling was back, and you pulled back. “Okay,” you whispered, your stomach swarming with butterflies as you watched him cover your planted potato with his hands. For someone who made a lot of jokes regarding human ethics, he was far more caring than he let on.

“Y’know,” you said softly, glancing over at him, “it’s really cool watching you do this, even if Tommy thinks it’s boring.” A small smile flitted across your face. “There are all these specific conditions that you have to know to have the most efficient farm with the best percent yield of potatoes—it’s honestly kind of surreal just how much brainpower actually goes into farming.”

Technoblade stared at you, his eyes reflecting something thoughtful and warm, and another thought popped into your head. You felt your cheeks begin to grow warm at the words swirling around your head. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you opened your mouth, again.

“I-I, um,” you began shakily, suddenly finding the scuff mark on your shoe very interesting, “I really hope you know how smart we think you really are. How smart I know you are. Because you are. Smart, that is.”

You must have been trembling, you could almost feel it. Why was it so hard to put your feelings into words? At this rate, you were never going to be able to confess how you felt. Just how much longer could you drag this out fo—

“Hey,” he said gently, his voice pulling you out of your thoughts. You turned your head, your lips parting as you looked at him in surprise. The moment his soft gaze met yours, a spark of electricity ran through your veins, and you shivered for an entirely different reason.

“Thank you,” he murmured, tilting his head at you. “I appreciate it.”

Suddenly, he squinted his eyes at you, his carmine gaze narrowing. “Oh wait, you’ve got something on your face,” he murmured, inching closer in to take a better look.

“Oh,” you said, a hand immediately darting up to your cheek, “that’s probably just some dust or soot or something. You know, from the mines.” You wiped at your face with the back of your hand, embarrassment shooting up your spine knowing that you probably looked dumb. “Did I get it?”

He frowned, pulling off his gloves as he leaned closer. “No, here let me just—”

Suddenly, his hand was on your face, your cheek held gently in his palm. Your heart came barreling to a stop, your entire body freezing like ice. 

He was so close.

The pads of his finger were warm and calloused, yet they held a certain softness to him as his thumb slowly swiped just under her eye, careful to brush away the dirt that marred your face. Like a moth drawn to a flame, you found yourself unable to look away from him, hyperaware of the goosebumps that shot up your sides as his gaze met yours. A prince—he really did look like a prince.

For a moment, the two of you simply gazed at one another, a silent question hanging over you.

Before you could stop yourself, you opened your mouth.

“Can I say something kind of crazy?” you whispered.

“Of course,” he whispered, not moving his gaze from yours for even a heartbeat.

You sucked in a deep breath, screwing your eyes shut. “I…” You swallowed. “I really, really want to kiss you, right now.”

A moment of silence passed, and you held your breath, tension digging itself into your shoulders. Oh, I’m totally about to get rejected. This was such a bad idea. What was I even thinki—

“Can—” He started then stopped, and you could have sworn his cheeks were pink. “Can I say something even crazier?”

You heart leapt. “Yeah, totally,” you breathed.

He turned back to look at you, and you felt something deep in your chest click. “I really, really want to kiss you, too.”

Your eyes flew wide, and you couldn’t stop the giddy grin forming on your face. Almost imperceptibly, Technoblade dipped his head down close to yours, his crimson eyes darting across your face as he took in your every feature. As he leaned closer toward you, a question silently flashes in his gaze. 

Can I…?

You smiled and nodded oh-so subtly, just for him to see.

Yes, yes, yes.

Ever so slowly, he leaned down toward you, and you felt your eyelids flutter shut. Just then, his lips met yours, soft and tentative like a deer taking its first, shaky steps. Electric ran down your spine at his velvet touch, your hands reaching up to wrap around his neck and touch his cherry blossom pink hair. His crown tumbled to the ground off his head, rolling a few times before coming to a full stop, but neither of you particularly noticed, far too enraptured with one another to care.

This was everything you could have possibly asked for.

A moment later, you pulled apart, gasping for air as the two of you gazed into each other’s eyes. His hair had been mussed by your touch, his lips parted and puffy from the kiss.

You didn’t think he could look any more princely, but he still managed to prove you wrong.

Clearing your throat, you cast eyes away in shy embarrassment. “I feel like I should also clarify that this means I like you,” you added in a rush, fidgeting with your hands. “Like, way more than I thought I could ever like a person.”

Technoblade let out a sigh of relief, lips curling at the corners. “Oh, that’s good. I like you, too.” Your heart did a backflip in your chest, shouting in celebration as he added, “I was sort of thinking we were just gonna kiss and never talk about it, again.”

You shot him a quizzical look. “I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic.”

He sent you a crooked smile, but his gaze was fond. “Only kind of.”

You weren’t quite sure how many minutes passed in comfortable silence, both of you simply basking in the other’s warm presence. It was nice—this was nice. You wouldn’t mind staying like this for a while longe—

“—y it, Tommy, just say it!”

Your eyes shot wide open in panic. Across from you, Technoblade’s expression mirrored your own.

They were back.

“I’m telling you it’s okay, Tommy—you can call me ‘Wilby’ if you want to!”

Flailing your arms in a panic, you immediately began to backpedal to the other side of the room, Technoblade picking up his shovel and beginning to shovel as fast as he could.

“You’re still going off about this shit? Jesus Christ, I don’t want to call you ‘Wilby’, oh my fucking go—”

Wilbur crooned as they stepped into the garden room, “Aww, Tommy, my little gremlin.”

“Shut the fuck up, Wilbu—”

“B-Back so soon?” you prompted, pretending to have been looking at the potato field with great focus as you turned to face them.

Wilbur turned away from Tommy, the smile sliding off his face. He nodded with a sigh, adjusting the pack on his back. “We almost got to the portal, but Antfrost saw us, so we had to book it.” 

Technoblade paused his movements, deadpanning with an unimpressed tone. “Tragic.”

Tommy scowled at him. “Don’t sound so cocky, bitch. You didn’t have to outrun like, half of the SMP all the way back here without getting tracked.” Suddenly his gaze shot to the ground, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “And why’s your fuckin’ crown on the ground?” he muttered, snatching it from the dusty floor and tossing it back over to Technoblade.

“No reason,” you said half a beat too quickly.

Wilbur’s eyes flitted back forth between you and Technoblade, taking in the sight of your flushed cheeks and Technoblade’s disheveled hair. Then, a sly, scheming smile crept onto his face. You gulped.

Oh, he totally knew.

“Tommy,” he said, the shit-eating grin still plastered to his face, “how do you feel about going on another trip with me?”

Tommy’s head whipped around, his eyes swimming with confusion. “Another trip?” he parroted.

Wilbur nodded, still smiling. “Yep. Another trip. Let’s get going, yeah? I’ve got something wonderful in mind.”

Before Tommy could even react, Wilbur had grabbed onto the handle of his pack, dragging him back and up the stairs. “Wilbur! What the fuck? Where are we even fucking going?”

“On a trip!” Wilbur sang as he trudged up the stairs with Tommy in tow. Throwing one last glance over his shoulder, he sent you a knowing wink. “You two have fun, now.”

You gaped at him as he walked off, Tommy still kicking at his heels when they vanished from sight. A moment passed in silence before you turned to look at Technoblade, again.

“He knows,” you whispered, half in awe and half in horror.

Technoblade grimaced back at you. “Oh, he absolutely does.”

A beat of silence fell over you. Your eyes locked onto his carmine ones, and something seemed to click just then, a smile crossing both of your faces.

Indeed, Wilbur had just provided you with the perfect opportunity.

Who were the two of you to not take it?