#and then the rest is just my unhinged rambling with a friend i dragged into da with me who is just as unhinged as me

[icharchivist]

Is it time to break out the conspiracy board?

my natural behavior

[tired-teacher-blog]

Title : My savior/ My demise

Chapters : (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8)

Status : Completed

Characters: Dabi/ fem reader (with a healing quirk)/ other mha characters’ appearances

Genre : Angst/ fluff/ Romance/ NSFW in later chapters/ Tragidy/ contains manga spoilers

Summary : Your once calm and peaceful life takes a surprising turn to the unexpected when you meet the infamous villain Dabi. What will happen when you discover a side of him that no one else knows? A side he only shows when he’s with you. Will your story have a happy ending?

Please do not read if you’re a minor!!

Note : This is loosely based on the manga as I had to tweak some of the events to fit this plot. No major changes though, just a bit to include you in the story.

Explaining y/n’s quirk: You have a healing power; you’re able to extract people’s pain, illnesses, injuries and everything in between with a simple touch. You’re able to activate and release your quirk at will because using it for long periods of time without rest weakens you.

This chapter is NSFW/ +18/ for mature audience only!!!

Masterlist

AO3

Previously

_ "Huh, so I was right after all. Oh how exciting~" Himiko beamed watching the fascinating scene unfolding before her eyes.

Chapter 6 :

Dabi couldn't wait for the day to end so he would come and see you again. It was a drag, getting more and more irritating each minute that passed.

And Toga's weird and questioning looks made it all worse. Whatever she had in mind, he was not interested to hear.

It was dark outside when the meeting finally came to an end, and as usual when he's coming to see you, Dabi was waiting for the right moment to walk out of the building. But something was different this evening, Toga's unhinged eyes and deranged smile followed him around everywhere, making it impossible for him to leave unnoticed.

She finally approached him, blushing as she did so: "Dabi, who's your little friend?" He couldn't understand what she meant at first, so he simply blinked.

She laughed, earning herself some puzzled looks from the people around. Luckily it wasn't unusual for her to get a little frisky, so no one really questioned her behavior.

_ "Oh I was talking about that beauty you spent the night with." She explained almost in a whisper.

Dabi's heart dropped to his knees, how could she have known? He has always been careful not to be tailed.

_ "Oh that? Well it's nothing other than a stress reliever. Not a big deal." He thought that she would let it go if he made it sound like a casual booty call, but her reaction left him puzzled.

Her smile abruptly disappeared, and her cheerful expressions turned into something else that he couldn't understand.

_ "Oh I see." That was all she responded with before walking away and leaving a confused Dabi behind.

He debated wether or not he should visit you that evening. It probably wasn't totally safe, but at the same time, he wanted to see you really badly.

He finally decided to come to you, and to be extra cautious while doing so. After all, Toga would've told the others already if she was planning to, and it's probably for the best if he's with you in case something happens.

You opened the door after only one knock, and jumped in his arms without a word. He couldn't help but smile seeing your eagerness, and carried you inside after slamming the door shut.

_ "Dinner is ready." You murmured kissing his nose.

_ "Good, I'm starving." He squeezed your ass, and the glint in his eyes hinted at something other than the food.

_ "Alright, but dinner first." You understood exactly what he wanted because you were as eager for him as he was for you.

You talked and talked and he kept quiet, listening to you rambling on about your day.

He doesn't talk much, it's in his nature. Instead he prefers listening to you. But tonight was a little different, he wasn't just quiet, he was actually distracted.

You reached out from across the table and brushed your fingers against his, seeking his attention:

_ "Touya, is everything okay? You haven't even touched your food."

He took your hand in his and squeezed it reassuringly as he responded:

_ "Yeah angel it's all good don't worry about it."

You didn't believe him, but you decided to let it slide for a moment.

_ "Are you staying with me tonight?" You thought it would be best to just change the subject.

_ "I don't think it's a good idea." He didn't even meet your eyes when he spoke.

Something was off, and it troubled you.

_ "Please tell me what's going on, you know you can tell me anything right?" You begged him as you moved to kneel in front of him.

He caressed your cheeks and pulled you up to sit on his lap.

_ "I'm sorry, but something happened and I donno what to do." He stopped for a moment to heave a sigh before carrying on: "Toga found out about us, she confronted me today and I had to lie about it. Luckily it doesn't seem like she's gonna tell anyone. But just in case, be extra careful and I'll keep an eye on you from afar." You said nothing for a while.

Sure, something like that was bound to happen sooner or later, and you both knew it even if you tried your hardest to deny it. But what does this mean? Are you going to stop seeing each other? Are you going to.. break up? The idea scared you more than the villains finding out about your relationship.

_ "No, no I'm not okay with this, I can't stop seeing you." You replied firmly.

It would be a lie to say he wasn't pleased at that moment, to see you all worked up for him, but he needed to act rationally for your sake. He promised himself to never let anything bad happen to you.

_ "But we have to, at least for a little while."

You weren't completely convinced and you wanted to argue some more, but when you looked into his eyes, all words left your mouth. He seemed desperate and you didn't want to trouble him further, so you just nodded and kissed his cheek before pleading softly:

_ "Okay, but at least spend the night. Who knows when will be the next time we see..."

You were interrupted mid sentence by his lips on yours.

He moved slowly, almost lazily. There was no rush or urgency, it was as if he wanted to savour every second with you. And you felt the same.

His arms moved gently around your waist and under your thighs before lifting you up and walking to your bedroom. You moaned into his mouth as he placed you on top of the bedspread.

Your eyes burned and you struggled to keep your tears at bay. You didn't want the night to end because you didn't want him to disappear.

You pulled him flush against you, breathing in his scent, running your fingers through his hair, tasting the inside of his mouth as you kissed. You wanted to fill your senses with.. him.

His hands moved to your sides squeezing your clothed flesh as his hips ground against yours. He kept moving slow and steady until you started impatiently whimpering in his mouth.

He took the hint and sat up to remove his shirt, and so did you.

He pushed you back on the bed and devoured your lips once more. His hands traveled down to your perky nipples fondling and tweaking the nips.

It drove you crazy, and you didn't understand how was it possible for him to get you even more worked up than he usually does.

Was it because this would be the last time until God knows when? You flinched and tried to chase away any negative ideas your mind was feeding you at the moment. You didn't want any distractions, you only wanted him.

His lips moved to latch onto your throat as his hands worked on removing the rest of your clothes.

And there you were, completely naked and spread out for him. You felt self conscious being the only one undressed, so you moved your arms in an attempt to cover yourself. He smiled seeing your awkwardness even after all this time together, and forced your arms apart so he could fill his eyes with your beauty.

_ "Gorgeous, like always. You have no idea what I wanna do to you." And your pussy twitched hearing his raspy voice uttering those words.

_ "Do whatever you want to me, no reservations." You know all too well that he has always been careful with your body, he never tried anything too risky in fear of unintentionally hurting you. And you've always been grateful for that, but it's different this time.

You wanted to feel everything, not just pleasure, but pain as well. You wanted him to wreck you, to love you, to make a mess out of you, to hurt you, to soothe you.. everything, even the things he was afraid to do to you before.

_ "Are you sure angel? I don't wanna hurt you." He mumbled kissing your tummy and looked up right after to search your face for any signs of hesitation. But you were determined, and you wanted to show him just how serious you were.

You sat up bringing him with you, and proceeded to kiss his chest as you took off his shirt. He groaned and laced his fingers through your hair pulling you up to meet his lips in a feverish kiss. You got lost in each other, and he literally knocked the air out of your lungs, one hand kept pressing your head against him while the other moved down to remove his pants. You whimpered and hit his chest gently, asking him to release you from his grasp because you were on the verge of passing out.

He broke the kiss and you struggled to catch your breath, but he gave you no time to rest as he moved back to your neck kissing and sucking hard.

It was passionate and intense, and so far it was nothing you haven't done before. Even so, everytime with him felt like a first time. He has that impact on you.

He took one of your hands guiding it to his throbbing cock, and you encircled him with your fingers moving them up and down his length.

You loved taking care of him like that especially when he starts moving against your fingers or breathes out a heavy "fuck".

A familiar warm feeling started forming at the tip of your stomach, and you bit your lip to prevent yourself from moaning.

_ "Get on all fours doll." He demanded brushing his nose against your ear, and you immediately assumed position without asking any questions.

It was embarrassing, true, but you wanted it, you wanted him and everything he's willing to give.

And he felt the same, no matter how many times he had you, it was never enough. And the uncertainty of when you'll get to see each other again was heavy on your hearts.

You felt his hands tracing your butt cheeks and you thanked the heavens you weren't facing him because you didn't trust your expressions at that moment. You knew what he would do next, and sure enough, his thumb started teasing your already leaking pussy.

He ran his finger along your fluttering clit, and smirked when you gasped in surprise and buried your face into your pillow. His finger moved slowly at first, but when you unconsciously backed up against him he took the hint and shoved it all the way in.

Your face was still hidden into your pillow, when he started moving his digit in and out of your heat at a merciless speed. He didn't warn you when he added another, and this time your eyes flung open as you felt him stretching you out. He curled his fingers touching your sweet spot and you screamed, almost orgasming from his fingers alone. But you didn't want that, you wanted him inside you, to fuck you properly.

_ "Touya I'm ready, put it in please." You begged, and he was more than happy to grant your wish.

So he pulled his fingers out of your quivering pussy, and immediately replaced them with his cock. You both moaned in ecstasy, and Dabi gave you no time to adjust to him and started moving right away.

He loved the sight of your ass wiggling as he pounded away into your cunt, and couldn't help but slap your luscious flesh. You screamed and unconsciously tightened around him.

You liked it, both of you did, so when he smacked you again, you arched your back and wailed, his name coming out of your mouth in a slur.

And without a warning whatsoever, he pulled out and flipped you on your back before pushing himself in again. Your eyes were wide and your mouth hung open. You were surprised and aroused and needy, and he could tell, so he wasted no time and kept thrusting into you.

_ "Touya, burn me, mark me, please do it." You whimpered between every push he delivered, and he almost stopped for a second hearing your words.

He suggested it once but you refused because you were a little scared, and he never brought it up again because he didn't want to overwhelm you.

So when you begged for it all of a sudden, it took him by surprise.

_ "Babe are you sure you want this?" He asked still moving into you.

_ "Yes, yes please. I want your prints on my flesh." You wanted his marks on your body to keep you company while he's gone.

He leaned in and kissed you deeply, reassuringly as he did not want to frighten you.

He placed his hands on your sides, cradling you between them, and carefully activated his quirk.

The feeling of his dick still pounding deeply into your pussy, his burning palms against your skin, and his lips distracting you from everything else was euphoric. You ran your fingers through his hair and pulled on the strands as you moaned into his mouth and fluttered around his cock when you finally reached your high.

He broke the kiss allowing you to take your breath and looked down to where his hands met your flesh.

He sat up, releasing his quirk and admiring the sight underneath him. Flushed face, sweaty bouncing breasts, and those beautiful two marks he left on your body. He was nearing his own orgasm, and your whimpers pushed him there faster.

_ "Angel, can I cum inside you?" He breathed out and you immediately nodded feeling him twitching into your pussy. He gave you two more deep pushes before burying himself deep into your core and releasing everything into your welcoming cunt. He stayed like that for a moment until you squeezed every last drop of him.

He looked into your eyes and asked if you were alright. You smiled and reminded him that you have a healing quirk. And sure enough, the burns didn't look fresh, they looked already cured and you were left with two remarkable purple hand prints. He traced them softly and you could swear he looked proud of himself. It was cute.

He carefully pulled out of you and spread your legs further apart before throwing them over his shoulders.

_ "Wh.. what? Touya what are you do.. doing?"

He said nothing, he simply smirked and plunged his fingers inside your overstimulated pussy, and you threw your head back grabbing the sheets underneath you.

He thrusted his fingers inside your squelchy cervix, then replaced them with his tongue. He pushed it deep into you and sucked on your clit. It was too much that your legs shook uncontrollably and your hand flew to his hair pulling it. He kept abusing your cunt until you felt something.

_ "Touya stop please, something is coming out! I don't want this!" You screamed desperately.

_ "It's fine y/n let it all out." He whispered against your clit, and it did it.

You arched your back and screamed his name as you squirted in his mouth. And he never stopped lapping at your pussy until every last drop came out of you.

He sat up wiping his mouth and smirking proudly.

_ "Touya, I'm sorry." You were embarrassed, but he loved it.

He loved seeing your spent and satisfied body exposed to him.

He opened his mouth to tell you it was okay, but stopped instantly after seeing your changed expressions.

Your tears finally betrayed you, and the hot liquid traced your temple to land on his fingers that moved to cradle your cheeks.

_ "Hey, y/n what's wrong doll? Are you alright? Are you hurt? Was that too much" He mumbled wiping your tears away and you shook your head without uttering a word.

In all honesty, he didn't really need an answer because he knew..

He laid down and brought you on top of him allowing you to cry as he traced your back and said nothing. None of you cared about the mess you were in, all you cared about was one another. You just wanted to soak up every remaining second you had in each other's embrace.

_ "I love you." You mumbled after your tears finally stopped, and couldn't even hear his answer because you were already on the verge of passing out. You just hoped he would still be there when you wake up.

But he wasn't..

You woke up all by yourself, fresh clean and covered, but your heart was shattering each second that passed. You wished you could see him, say goodbye, have one more kiss, but you couldn't.

You traced your burnt skin and sobbed, frightened about what the future holds for the two of you.

(To be continued...)

[mrsgiovanna]

Dueling with destiny -Part 1 (Castlevania AU) (Dhampir!Giorno x Vampire!reader)

I think everyone who has been here for a while knows about my Castlevania brainrot, and my incessant rambling about dhampir!Giorno, thus this JJBA x Castlevania AU was born. Thank you to @rubyninja1 for the idea. I hope this is what you had in mind as well.

TW: mentions of injuries, character deaths,

Word count: 2.8K

16 April, 1587

The acrid, smoke-laden air stung your nose as you held your partner by the waist, linking his arm over your shoulder to try and drag his limp body to safety. Golden hair concealed a handsome face contorted in pain- but it was finally over, Giorno had defeated his father… and almost paid for it with his life.

Dio was a formidable opponent and had it not been for your combined efforts, the dhampir might have been defeated by his vampire father. Dio wasn’t always as unhinged as he was in his final moments… sure, he could barely contain his disdain for humans, but all of that changed when he met the woman who would become his lover and bare him a son. For all intents and purposes, they were a happy family, living a quiet existence in the heart of the Naples forest, it was remote enough to distance himself from the rest of humanity, but close enough for his beloved to get what she needed from the nearby villages, and see her family and friends every once in a while. Slowly, he had become less disillusioned with the accursed humans as she and their son had chipped away at the hardened exterior to reveal the kindness that he thought he had long since snuffed out.

This had been the case for more than a few years, the young Giorno maturing into an adult relatively quickly, had been forging his own way, being that link between the sacred and the occult- that is how you viewed him in any case. Your kind- the vampires- have long been a group that have been hunted and persecuted, and as such have existed on the outskirts of society, however, with Giorno, people were different, accepting, even looking up to the young dhampir. And just like that, so too was your own faith in humanity restored. All that would be laid to waste by the senseless killing of Giorno’s mother.

And just like that, Dio’s sanity had abandoned him, proving his initial opinion of humans as correct. To say that he had gone insane would be an understatement, as his grand plan was to simply eradicate all of mankind, leaving only the vampires behind. Not seeing the flaw in his own plan, he summoned his comrades from the world over to aid in his conquest, as such, they were laying siege to the country, one scorched landscape at a time. Giorno had tried to reason with his father time and time again, but to no avail, and you could tell from the ever present scowl marring his once serene face, that he was close to breaking… and so you both did the unthinkable by rebelling against his father. Hours and hours of fighting had culminated in Dios bitter defeat, but you had hoped he would finally be able to rest with his beloved in the afterlife, and that Giorno would be able to recover from this both in body and spirit.

Finally reaching the castle, you carefully made your way to Giorno’s chambers and laid him in his coffin, getting everything ready for his slumber. He had taken an immense amount of damage from his father, far more than his regenerative powers could handle, and thus he needed time to recover properly. His castle- what was left of it- was still hidden deep in the forest of Naples, but had been rigged with various traps to dispose of any intruders or hunters that would want to get rid of the “monsters”, you decided that you would reinforce those with a few more measures once you got Giorno safely ensconced in his coffin.

“(y/n) … I don’t think I said this before, but thank you… you could have died, but you decided to help me despite the odds. I…” Giorno’s voice was quiet and you could tell from his labored breathing that he was really struggling to speak so you silenced him before he could go any further.

“Giorno, it’s okay, I know, conserve your energy… I don’t want you to hurt yourself any further. I’ll be right here when you wake up and you can carry on then, for now you need rest,”

“I can’t ask you to stay here, I don’t know how long it’s going to take me to recover,” he argued as you unraveled the now tangled triad of curls from his hair and gently brushed out the knots.

“Well, you didn’t ask, I just volunteered… besides I have nothing but time on my hands, might as well prevent you from being stolen and sold on the black market,”

“I’m but a half breed, they’d pay a prettier penny for you… I’d hate to have to wake up earlier than I have to all to save you from a bunch of hunters,” he retorted to your quip.

Finally, you mused, the light lilt had returned to his voice, you knew it was too quick to count this towards his recovery, but you were thankful nonetheless.

“(y/n), if things get too dangerous, run… don’t look back, you need to protect yourself first, promise me you’ll do that,”

“What kind of a-”

“Promise me, (y/n) you know I hate repeating myself!” the intensity with which he looked at you and the harsh tone of his voice cut short any argument you were trying to put forward, not wanting to agitate Giorno any further, you agreed reluctantly.

“Fine, fine, don’t get upset… I can fight though; you’ve seen this for yourself. And there’s traps all over the place, I’ll be alright,” he smiled weakly and nodded at your assertion. With a gentle smile you closed the coffin as Giorno closed his eyes. Thus began your vigil.

You didn’t mind staying behind and protecting Giorno, you hated to admit your feeling to yourself, but you were completely in love with the young dhampir. Not quite sure of how or when it happened, you found that your relationship with him had evolved from one characterized by playful teasing to flirtatious banter, matching him in both wit and strength, you two were inseparable, however, you were far too scared to confess your feelings for him, and the opportunity to do so had simply not presented itself as yet.

With all the time in the world at your disposal and not much to occupy it with, you started exploring the castle. At first you began to straighten it out, working section by section, reinforcing traps, and mending what you could until you had finished sprucing up the entire place. The surrounding area was quiet enough for you to venture out on your own, and you managed to gain a firm grasp on where the best hunting areas were, what to forage and the best times to go out. Obviously, you had to stay away from the sunlight, but the armory had some very useful cloaks that were able to filter out all sunlight, allowing you to venture out during the day.

Seasons had passed and soon you would be approaching a year of living in the castle and waiting for Giorno to wake up. Life had been peaceful, however, there had been a few strange occurrences in some of the neighboring villages, which sent a large amount of people past the castle. Up until that point you only had to deal with the odd lost traveler here and there, but for the most part, you were left alone. Dealing with that many people peering curiously at the castle and even daring to darken your doorstep left you on edge, but nonetheless, none of those individuals had threatened your safety. You wondered what, or rather who was the cause of the unrest, but your desire to stay out of trouble was far stronger. Unfortunately, the trouble you so diligently attempted to avoid had come looking for you.

It was a normal day, you had risen and were in the process of preparing yourself for the day, however before you left to go downstairs you were interrupted by a noise from the other end of the castle. Afraid that Giorno had woken up and set off one of the traps in his disorientation, you rushed over to that side of the massive dwelling, not expecting the sight that greeted you, you were thankful for the longsword strapped to your side when you happened upon the three shrouded figures.

Drawing your sword as quickly as your reflexes allowed you to, you addressed them from your vantage point just outside Giorno’s room.

“Stop, you will go no further! Announce yourselves, trespassers…” you called out in your most threatening voice. The tallest of the three had slowly raised his hands and inched his way toward the landing of the stairs. Instructions mean nothing to him… he must be human you mused, still on high alert as you waited for a response. The tall man unhooded himself and examined you with the most intense cerulean eyes you had ever seen.

“My name is Bruno Bucciarati, I’m a speaker magician from the neighboring village… this is my apprentice, Guido Mista, we mean no harm… we actually come seeking the aid of he who lies asleep in that crypt you’re so carefully guarding,” he explained with a velvety voice and all the grace of an aristocrat. You wondered if he was just a normal magician with mannerisms as delicate as his, but the question that burned with more intensity was that of who the third person was and why he chose to conveniently leave them out of the introductions.

“And who’s that? The little one over there?” you asked, pointing your sword to the one who still remained cloaked.

“I’d prefer not to say… not just yet, we have to protect her until we secure enough help… there’s something dangerous looming, bigger than us all, if we don’t fight it, we will all be doomed,”

“I’m sure you know the type of being you’re speaking to, my kind have survived worse… so no thanks, be sure not to get killed on your way…” before finishing your sentence you found yourself having to leap out of the way of a tiny silver projectile fired at you by the one who went as Guido. A gun? How does he even possess one without our science? Your mind raced, thinking of how to eradicate them all at once, still being unsure of the abilities and identity of the third figure.

“Mista! Stop!”

“Bucciarati, its pissing me off!” exploded Mista clearly annoyed by your flippant dismissal.

“It? You’re referring to me as it? You humans are all the same, you live this pitiful existence and call it a life and have the audacity to insult beings far superior to you… you will always be preyed upon with that attitude,”

Just as you were about to launch into an attack towards the gunslinger, a voice you hadn’t heard in almost a year had rung out.

“(y/n), that’s enough… conserve your energy, I’ll take care of this,” said Giorno, his silver sword whizzed past you, and would have skewered the insolent gunslinger had it not been redirected by the magician. Giorno’s figure had floated up and out of his coffin, and he made his way towards you, summoning his enchanted sword to him once more, taking a fighting stance in front of the intruders as the gunslinger prepared to fire once more.

“Mista, stand down,” commanded Bucciarati, surprisingly however, Mista had maintained his aim on Giorno.

“I’m not going to stand down until he does Bucciarati,”

“Well I hope you’ve made peace with your gods then, for you will soon be meeting them,” declared Giorno in a calm, even voice.

“Stop! Please, just stop fighting!” called out the little figure, as she dropped her hood to reveal a shock of pink wavy hair and intense, emotion-laden eyes that looked at the scene unfolding. The two men stopped in their tracks and lowered their weapons reluctantly, waiting for the pint sized girl to continue.

“My name is Trish Una… I come from the same place as Bucciarati does, however, we come from the neighboring territory of Campania. Bucciarati is actually my personal guard. He is right, we have come to seek your aid, our land is all but destroyed and that wicked man… he is hell bent on taking over everything one territory at a time until everything is under his control… please we need your help,” she went on to explain emphatically.

“Who is this person?” asked Giorno plainly. Between Bucciarati and Trish, they explained that the ruler, who went by the name Diavolo, was a powerful, albeit maniacal magician who had been obsessed with unlocking the secrets of traversing the very fabric of time itself, and to the detriment of humanity, had recently obtained that power, however, even that wasn’t enough to sate his appetite for power.

“Legend has it, there’s an enchanted object, an arrow of sorts, that grants unimaginable powers to the wielder if they are strong enough to control it, if this has to fall into his hands, we will all be doomed,” explained the young girl with glossy eyes.

“Why do you care so much?”

“(y/n) …” Giorno spoke your name with a hint of disdain at the manner in which you asked the question.

“What? It’s a fair question…”

“She’s right,” interjected Trish, “I feel I need to stop him because… because he is my father…”

An eerie silence hung in the air, somehow making it more difficult to breathe. You looked over at Giorno whose expression was now dark… as if the memories from a year ago had been poured into his head all at once.

“I’ll help you… but we need a plan, if we are to best someone as powerful as he, we need to know exactly what we’re dealing with… all the knowledge and developments contained within these walls are at your disposal, I’m sure that we will be able to find something that could help us” offered Giorno. He understood the young woman’s plight better than anyone and felt it was a moral obligation to help the band of travelers.

“Just like that?” quipped Mista, making no attempt to conceal his suspicion.

“Mista, can you drop your guard for just one moment…”

“It’s alright… Bucciarati- Was it? A year ago I was in the very same predicament that Trish currently finds herself. If it wasn’t for the assistance of a precious ally, I might not be here to have this conversation with you,” explained Giorno as he looked over at you with the gentlest expression. Offering him a kind smile, you were thankful for how well he had healed, and how much he sounded like his old self. Turning your attention to the trio of travelers, your expression softened when you noticed the poor condition they were in.

“You all look a bit travel-worn, we can offer you a place to stay while we figure out how to tackle your problem, if you’re okay with that Giorno,” you suggested, knowing that he would have suggested that as well.

“Of course, there’s more than enough space,” he agreed with a nod.

“Thank you so much for your kindness, we’ll humbly accept your offer,” Bucciarati looked at his travel companions who also expressed their thanks at the gesture. You took them to the rooms that they would be occupying and showed them where all the necessities were before coming back to check on Giorno who you found sitting on the edge of windowsill gazing thoughtfully outside. Noticing your presence, he shut the curtains once more, preventing any sunlight from entering the room.

“It’s alright, if I stay over here, it won’t reach me, that’s not important though, how are you? I know this isn’t what you expected to find when you woke up, these weird things just seem to… happen,”

“I’ve gotten used to expecting the absurd… the real question is whether or not you’re alright? You certainly look well,” he said, cupping your cheek with a gentle hand. That small gesture made your heartrate escalate, and so you averted your gaze in the hope that it would calm down and that he wouldn’t notice.

“Well, I won’t keep you, I’m sure you have a lot that you’d like to do, I’m going to get started on some food, you all could use something to eat…”

“Wait, I’ll help you,” Giorno suggested following you out of the room.

“Say, Giorno… are you really okay with all of this? I know this must be difficult, and judging from what they’ve said, this Diavolo person sounds terrifying, are you sure you’re up for this?” your concern was genuine and it warmed his heart that you were so thoughtful of him. He contemplated your question for a moment before answering.

“Well (y/n), it seems that these duels are etched into my destiny, whether it’s a blessing curse remains to be seen, but I know for sure that with you by my side I’ll be able to face anything.”

[mypersonmyg]

sweatshirt | jjk

pairing: jeongguk x reader

genre: fluff

rating: g

wc: 1.3k

warnings: none... :D

request: @joonsrack​

summary:  Y/n has a habit of stealing her roommates clean clothes when she runs out of clean clothes herself, but one day she runs into her roommate's hot friend and he ask her, "is that my shirt?" Pick any member you think fits best 😌 (cr. @joonsrack )

a/n: my first drabble request from my very own employer! who has in fact already read and reviewed it and is also responsible for the summary; i also love her very much 2 stars :-))

“THIS IS LIKE THE ROMEO AND JULIET WHERE EVERYTHING IS MODERN BUT THEY SPEAK IN SHAKESPEAR” ~ alys 2021

[drabble masterlist]

[request a drabble]

Spontaneous hilarity is a melodious tune, slipping through canals to the cavity of a chest dampened with the floral droplets left from the pressured rain of the shower-head. Fresh linen wraps bare flesh, little shield from the gust that greets a toe into the hall, high pitch forcing forward the step of trembling limbs surrounded by the billow of dense steam. Maneuverability is habit, the peak of a head around the not so distant corner too brisk to meet eyes but not agile enough for you to miss wind completely. 

The slide of feet against hardwood pushes to the opening of your bedroom, lights strung nearly blinding with your upward gaze, dancing along skirting irises until you’ve averted to aged oak, pulling geometric framing from its integrity for cloth to cover you in modest despite the growth of fabric growling from the mouth of a closet overflowed. Even so, arms are left bear, chill raising flesh unfavorably giving rise to the free flow of muttered grouch. 

Your head is filled with the previous protests of Taehyung, his closet deemed over the limit of acceptable in the clause of your rooming condition. The stipulation is senselessly sensible, your hands klepto drawn to the hang of his thick sleeves and sweatshirts outgrowing the stretch of his own limbs. The closet, now filled with your clothes begging to be soaped, once filled with items stolen from the hangings of Taehyung’s wardrobe. 

Company is a distraction, but not enough for the creak of boards to slip your mind, strides stealthily shifting down the hall to Taehyung’s door already half yielding to the natural filter of light. Your venture is without fail, the hang of a sweatshirt shadowed in the stream from the hall, your hands snag the material, slipping it over your head, warmth engulfing with a scent familiar if not a tone off from normal. 

You note the kiss of wind clinging to the warm garment, unaware that Taehyung stepped out, but unbothered by the fact, too consumed with the heat radiating from the sleeves to your skin still aflame with bumps of chill. The carry of voices from the living room are enticing, heady dialogue routine for nights spent laying in fantastical mist just mere inches, waiting to be swallowed whole by healthy infatuation were it not for your own misgivings.

Instead of the head first dive that threatens to nudge you into the open, you find comfort in the plush of your pillows, tugging at cottony sleeves that swallow you without complaint. Voices permeate drywall, filling blank space, a certain timber grabbing you by your brain already half hazed with comfort and coaxing to premature slumber. You rest in the precipice of consciousness, eyes slated to close, your mind roaming and aware though not enough to grasp the coherency of voices just beyond the door. 

It’s the distant thud of the front door that pulls you forth, shoulders jolting under the stress of disturbance. You’re fatigued, irritation clogging your brain at both the unplanned period of rest and unceremonious awakening so thoughtlessly bestowed. It’s shoved to wayside when your stomach shifts, lack of contents unforgiving with an embarrassed rumble of anger. You chance the trek to the kitchen, volume died down and the slam of the door indicative of a recent departure.

 In your earlier haste the design of the sweatshirt you dawned was lost, though now the maroon aglets that dangle in your peripheral with each swing of your limbs draws your eye. You halt, mid-stride, feet dragging against the span of carpet shield your feet from the cold of the wood flooring. 

Like the click of your mental, the door swings back on its hinges Jeongguk in toe, his gaze locked on his phone, limbs hastily dragging him in your direction. The scent that still filters in and out of your nostrils is now all too familiar, recollection clawing at an earlier conversation with the not so inconspicuous apple of your eye. 

You’re stilled until he threatens to knock you where you stand, audible gasp drawing his attention, his hand shooting in haste, steadying your frame at the waist. 

“Sorry! I was far too distracted by my phone,” He’s sheepish, device flashing in his palm in rapid succession. “I’m sure you know better than most how impatient our friend is.”

“That I do,” You feel awkward with the few words, laughter falling in short gasps. 

“I don’t mean to barge in, I just…”He fades, breathing you in and out in kind, flustered but not as shy as his usual darkened cheeks let on. “...forgot my sweatshirt. That one actually.” 

Your fingers trace the raised hem of your borrowed garment, toying with the idea of its removal, jaded only by the feelings set aflutter in the cage shielding your blood-pumping organ. Like an extra layer, his stare covers you in heady warmth, his lips quirking, head tilting in the way you’ve always been taken with. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I thought it was Tae’s which is really no excuse because he definitely hates when I steal his stuff. If it makes any difference I noticed it smells different, now I know it’s the fabric softener you said you like and maybe I like it too because—” 

“Y/n—”

“Sorry, I’m rambling, I’ll just give this back before Tae bites your head off—”

“Y/n.” Your hands are halted by Jeongguk’s gentle grasp to your wrists, fingers already clutching either side of the sweatshirt. You manage an upward glance, his eyes locked, pupils dazed with amusement. “It’s fine, really.” 

“Oh, but you’re going out and it’s  probably chilly.” 

“I’ll just borrow one of Taehyung’s, no big deal.” 

Your brows knit, Jeongguk’s grip loosening with the gentle tug of your arms to your side. “Well that would be a little counterproductive, wouldn’t it? I could just give yours back and I could just borrow one of Tae’s.”

“Well sure,” Jeongguk counters, lip twitching, feet shifting. You wait for him to continue, the words seeming to halt in his throat, cheeks stretching from the strain of muscles in attempt to exercise the correct verbiage. A fragile process, silence filled only with the low hum he emits, ears darkening with each passing phrase. “But! He’ll be pissed at you for borrowing his clothes and he’ll be totally fine if I do it. Besides, this looks good on you.” 

“Relax, it’s just a sweatshirt.” You feign, flustered by the words oozing affection. 

“Yeah, but it’s my sweatshirt. I think I look good on you.” You can’t muster an utterance of coherency, jaw unhinged whilst Jeongguk traverses to Taehyung’s room, resurfaced moments later with arms wrapped in a crew Taehyung often sports. He’s smug, though you still see the tint of his cheeks, confidence not entirely free of the shy boy you’ve come to adore. “I guess I should get going.” 

“Yeah, don’t want Tae coming up here and yelling at both of us.” 

Jeongguk makes it to the door, hand grasping the cool of the handle, head tilting once more in your direction. “I hear you’re famous for stealing people’s clothes, but I think I’m gonna need that back.” 

“Oh, yeah I’ll make sure to get it to you!” Your momentarily pulled from the moment of unbridled bliss, cursing Taehyung for outting you whilst holding the knowledge of the feelings decorating your sleeve in bulbs and blossoms. 

“How about you bring it to my place...Saturday?” 

“Oh, sure, is there a time that works best for you?” 

“How about sometime in the evening...seven thirty. Make sure to clear your schedule though, it might take a while.” Your idle mind is too busy catching up to the words free flowing, no room left for questions when Jeongguk is already closing the door in his stead. The smile decorating your lips is enough indication that his motivation is clear enough and you’ve got a date with the boy you love, his sweatshirt wrapping you in warmth and the guise of fresh fabric all the clarification you need. 

[madzfm]

˛ ⠀ * ⠀ ★ ⠀  JESSICA ALEXANDER  .   CIS FEMALE  .  SHE / HER      ⧽ ⠀ have  you  seen  the  786  latest  post  ?  sources  say  they  have  some  serious  dirt  on  the  child  of  a  big  time   COUNTRY MUSIC STARS  .   they  haven’t  revealed  who  it was  yet  but  my  best  is  on  MADISON  DARLING  !  ever  since  that  last  update  about  how  she  ALLEGEDLY GOT CAUGHT SPORTING A BABY BUMP LAST YEAR BEFORE GHOSTING EVERYONE  i  don’t  put  anything  pass  them  .  i  mean  ,  these  celebrity  kids  are  just  out  of  control  .   they  do  whatever  they  want  ,  whenever  they  want  and  are  ungrateful  in  the  process  !!  i  mean  take  MADDIE  for  example  ,  they’re  a  TWENTY THREE  year  old  DANCER  ,  and  what  did  they  do  to  get  there  ?  have  famous  parents  !  like  hello  ,  just  because  you HAVE BEEN IN MUSIC VIDEOS WITH A-LIST MUSICIANS doesn’t  mean  you  actually  deserved  it  .   i’m   glad   the   786   is   taking   them   down   a   notch   .   it’s   about   time   someone   does   .

             𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐆𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐂  /  𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓  / 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯

hey ... hey ... how y’all doin’ ?  i’m sooo excited to be here , besties ! sorry i’m late with the intro , it’s been a looooong weekend for me but i’m eager to get the ball rolling . so here’s the rundown , the google doc has a full bio + more stats + headcanons but i don’t expect anyone to actually read all that nonsense so i’ve tried my best to sum it up below ( it’s still kinda long tho i’m sorry y’all i ramble too much ). i’m always down to talk plots & threw a few wanted connection ideas at the bottom , so feel free to hmu on discord any time <3 but yes okay let’s get into it

⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯

━━     ˊ     *     𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬  . .

𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞. madison dallas darling .   𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞(𝐬). maddie , mads .   𝐝𝐨𝐛. april 14 , 1998 .   𝐚𝐠𝐞. twenty - three .   𝐳𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐜. aries sun , libra moon , leo asc .   𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫. cis female .   𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬. she / her .   𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. bisexual .  𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞. nashville , tn .   𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭. 5ft 5in .  𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. high school diploma .   𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. dancer / realty tv personality .   𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐬. robert “robbie” darling - father . dixie darling - mother . delaney darling - sister .   𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬. compassionate , imaginative , family-oriented  , devoted , generous , sympathetic , idealistic , self critical , naive , competitive , indecisive , impressionable , elusive , sensitive .

━━     ˊ     *     𝐛𝐢𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐲 . .

tw : things like shitty controlling parents , injury , & pregnancy are mentioned

   born & raised in nashville , tennessee , madison is the daughter of two country music icons ( basically blake shelton & miranda lambert ) & has only ever known a life in the spotlight . her parents were a widely adored it couple who shared their lives with millions of viewers across the world with their reality tv show . at 7pm cst you could tune in to watch robbie & dixie raise their two daughters - having some good ol’ wholesome family fun while juggling responsibilities that come with being famous artists . to any outsider looking in , they seemed like the perfect family . a loving father , a supportive mother , two prim & proper daughters that collected accolade after accolade in every pageant & talent competition they ever entered . but you shouldn’t believe everything you see on tv , even if it’s deceptively labeled as “reality” .

   when the cameras weren’t rolling , the darling sisters were left under their mother’s restrictive control . dixie darling treated her daughters more like dolls than living beings , madison & delaney were basically pretty little accessories . while robbie never dared to mistreat his daughters , he was around a lot less than the show made it seem - often touring the world rather than spending quality time with his girls . plus , dixie & robbie seemed to endlessly fight with one another - nearly every childhood memory madison has of her parents involves them yelling . if she wanted to see them looking happy & in love , she’d have to tune in to the fabricated reality on their own show to get a taste of what a happy , loving family looks like . 

   you can’t be a child of dixie darling without being exploited in some way . while delaney was pushed into the music scene , madison was shoved into the world of dance . she took every class that was offered & practiced for hours upon hours to perfect her craft . her sister had taken after their folks with the singing voice of an angel & the looks to rival that of miss universe , meanwhile maddie was good for two things : dance & doing whatever her mother said . so when dixie said to twirl , she twirled , when she said do a grand jeté, maddie asked how high & then over performed like the good little girl she was trained to be .

   it wasn’t until her parents got divorced & maddie moved to miami to be with her sister , her father , & her father’s new girlfriend that she sort of came out ( or more accruately described as dragged out ) of her timid , non - confrontational , subservient shell . with a longer leash , she had more freedom to roam far & wide . no one tried to tell her what to do or who to talk to & considering she was just a privileged teenager with endless funds & the status to get away with just about anything , you can imagine how badly that went . every mistake she made was broadcasted onto people’s televisions or headlined in tabloids . it was stressful , growing up & messing up all under the watchful gaze of millions of people who felt entitled to berate her for her poor life decisions . just because they watched her grow up on tv didn’t mean they actually knew anything about her . & yet so many people shared their unsolicited opinions on her & her life . it drove her insame .

   maddie wasn’t handling the stress of being well known very well . she wanted a break from it all , to just go somewhere far away where no one knew her name & just live by herself . it was a silly dream . nothing she’d ever actively pursue . but the universe has a funny way of giving us a taste of what we think we want just to teach us a lesson . 

   so over a year ago , maddie found out that she was pregnant . it was a shock to say the least . she kept it a close guarded secret from everyone but her sister for awhile . not only was it a life changing development , but it was one thing that she was determined not to share with the rest of the world . with the idea of running away in continuous loop in the back of her mind , she came up with a plan to buy herself some time . she faked a really bad injury during a performance & let the media run with saying she might not be able to walk , let alone dance ever again . pushing the cover story even further , she claimed to be in need of intense physical therapy & sought after it in a luxurious private lodge in new zealand . that’s where she stayed during her year away , letting no outsiders come visit while she figured out how she was going to move forward with this baby growing inside of her .

   so maddie finally got the break she was looking for even if it wasn’t under the circumstances that she would’ve liked . but she adapted to the situation . in her time away , she went through the entire pregnancy but it was basically decided for her by her parents that it was best to give the baby up for adoption . the little girl would be in good care by a couple that was a family friend of the darlings . better to bless someone who wanted a baby but couldn’t have one than for maddie to keep her daughter when she wasn’t in a place to take care of her . it broke her heart , honestly . she had grown quite attached to the baby & even entertained the idea of being a single mom even though she knew her own mom would never let that happen - it would go against the strict narrative that they try to put out there about the darling family .

   after a year away , maddie is back in miami without anyone knowing what really happened . she keeps using the “injury” as the excuse for her absence from the spotlight . anyone really close to her might be able to tell that something’s off , but she’s trying so hard to act like everything is fine & nothing has changed at all . she might even be able to get away with her lies - if it wasn’t for that damn 786 website threatening to spill the tea & make her life hell .

━━     ˊ     *     𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 & 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 . .

   a wannabe good girl gone bad but harbors a deep rooted fear of being a disappointment & a failure due to her mom’s strict parenting style . so like she wants to be rebellious & come across as carefree but internally she’s panic screaming always ( honestly relatable like same , girl )

   well - mannered in a sweet southern belle kind of way with her please’s & thank you’s & calling everyone ma’am & sir out of respect & what not

   biiiig mom friend energy . she just wants to make sure that everyone is taken care of . she can get very protective & a little helicopter parent-y with her friends . it probably has something to do with control issues that she doesn’t realize she has but we don’t have time to unpack that rn akjsdbk

   before her year away i want to say that she was a lot more people please-y / overly eager to please ?? like rarely said no to people that asked for favors , always agreed to any plans people invited her to out of courtesy , & what have you . but now i see her as being a little less patient than before & a little bit more unhinged & quick to shut down or snap

   guillable ! naive ! dumb as hell ! believes that everyone was raised with the same values as her & has a big of a heart like she does so she’s easily subjectable to getting her feelings hurt & i say let it happen !!

   wants to be mysterious so bad but there is very little known about her & her life that isn’t public knowledge . she could get shit on by a bird & it’ll probably become a twitter highlight idk she just wants to believe she’s imperceptible & acts all evasive in order to keep her private life private but that rarely ever has the desired effect

    one of those annoying rich & famous people that’s like “i wasn’t meant to be famous . i was meant to have a normal life & be a normal person” but like !! she is actually so out of touch with reality & probably couldn’t tell you how much milk is at the grocery store because she has people to do mundane day to day things for her . spoiled little privileged rich girl , let’s be real . her dad tried to keep her humble , idk what happened

   dance style / career is pretty much inspired by maddie ziegler but also not really bc i am very picky & choosey about which aspects of her career i’m pulling from

   boring on social media because she hardly ever posts & is very short with her captions & tweets when she does make an appearance online every blue moon 

   dodges questions about what she’s been up to while she was gone like she’s in the matrix or something . all that pr training her mom put her through when she was younger is coming in handy because she has not given a single honest , straight answer in the months she’s been back . would rather talk about anything else than herself right now so don’t be surprised if she pulls some random subject changes out of her ass if people get nosy . i’m sure the common conspiracy is that maddie was so embarrassed by the fall on stage that she went into hiding 

   delaney is the kim kardashian & britney spears of the family while madison is the kourtney & the jamie lynn xoxo

━━     ˊ     *     𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 . .

ride or die , bad influence , frenemies , family friends , good influence , confidant , rival , girl squad , non judging breakfast club , childhood friend , unlikely friend , exes on good terms , exes on bad terms , neighbors , pr friendship , pr enemy , social media mutuals , party buddies , secret friend , secret hook - up , crush , friends with benefits , adventure buddy , enemy with benefits , dance partners , mentors , mentees , sibling like relationship , will they won’t they , people suspicious of her & her supposed “injury” , father of her baby 👀 jk ..... unless

[cranehusbands]

for a charming guy, you suck at date nights

mirage | elliott witt/octane | octavio silva; established relationship; fluff; movie nights; adhd headcanons; 1388 words

a/n: 3 FOR 3! these just keep getting posted later and later, im so sorry about that, but i was trying out crossplay on apex today (!!!) and having a blast, i forgot how much fun this game can be with friends, hehe

anyways, day 3 for @apex-rarepairweek, movie night! featuring my very specific octane hcs about his hyperfixations where i am (we irritating) we Projecting. thank you again for these prompts guys, these were super fun!

likes < reblogs, any comments in the tags are appreciated

ao3 mirror in the reblogs!

Preview: “Uh, knock knock, comin’ through.” Octavio looked up, only just realising how badly he was chewing at his fingers as he saw Elliott struggling into the room, two drinks in hand and a bowl under his arm. “Oh, shit- sorry, didn’t hear you askin’ for help.” “You’re fine, babe, but thanks.” He gave a small smile of relief as the runner took the bowl from him, only for that to turn into a light scowl as he watched him scoop a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “C’mon, at least save it.” “S’good.” “Too hot?” Octavio didn’t reply, only slightly winced and turned away to put the bowl on the coffee table, and that was enough for the trickster to soften again, joining him on the loveseat (fitting, for a date night) as he slid the soda over to Octavio’s side, and kept the coffee for himself.

“You can sit down, you know that, right?”

The voice from the kitchen made Octavio look up from his shoes, kicking at the linoleum of the apartment’s entrance. He’d been standing there since Elliott had let him in a few minutes before, before he’d left to go make them drinks. “Uh, sí, just… waiting for you.”

“You, the Octane? Waiting? Thought hell’d freeze over before that happened.”

Though the legend scowled momentarily, hearing his boyfriend chuckle to himself from a distance was enough for him to relax the shoulders he didn’t know he was tensing, pulling his hands out of the pockets of his jacket to wring his hands. So he was a little nervous, sure. And he wasn’t coping well with it, yeah. But it was Elliott - just Elliott, not charming funny guy Mirage - and him here… though even that seemed like it was going to be a little too much.

 Like a lost and bewildered dog, he wandered into the living room, putting his bag down by the side of the sofa tossing his leather jacket across the back of it, fiddling with his gloves as he looked around. He’d been in this front room many times before, especially since they’d gotten together, though more often than not it had just been a segway to go out on a date, or further into the apartment, either option leading to a great time… but not tonight. Elliott wanted to stay in, do something cute (‘like normal couples do’ he’d said, as if they were anything close to normal), and had suggested watching a movie together. “You have a lot of those.” he’d chipped in, but he didn’t even know the half of it. 

 For a long time, Octavio had wasted his money on any old earth horror movie he could find. He had enough of it, seeing how as soon as he burned a hole in his pocket he earned back almost twice as much, but it made him happy - almost as happy as risking his life. He was sure Ajay was happy with the alternative, though impulsive spending was hardly an improvement. But for Octavio, the rush of happiness that came with another order or just watching the same movie over and over again was what he always needed, a tie over until the game the next day, or the stunt live on stream in the afternoon. 

 Maybe that’s why he was so wound up - he was baring his heart out here, and that wasn’t something he liked to do. He was the kind of guy to keep his cards close to his chest, and locked behind threads of chains, and the persona of a man who didn’t care what people thought of him, but still had no interests outside of what he did. And though, yes, the adrenaline rush and the cheer of the crowds was enough for him… movies like these kept him company on lonely nights with a nanny he didn’t care for, when his father had his nose too deep in work or another set of divorce papers.

 “Uh, knock knock, comin’ through.”

Octavio looked up, only just realising how badly he was chewing at his fingers as he saw Elliott struggling into the room, two drinks in hand and a bowl under his arm. “Oh, shit- sorry, didn’t hear you askin’ for help.”

“You’re fine, babe, but thanks.” He gave a small smile of relief as the runner took the bowl from him, only for that to turn into a light scowl as he watched him scoop a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “C’mon, at least save it.”

“S’good.”

“Too hot?”

Octavio didn’t reply, only slightly winced and turned away to put the bowl on the coffee table, and that was enough for the trickster to soften again, joining him on the loveseat (fitting, for a date night) as he slid the soda over to Octavio’s side, and kept the coffee for himself.

“So, you wanted to be in charge of picking, right?”

“Uh, heh… yeah.” He twiddled his thumbs a little, before reaching over the side of the arm to grab his backpack, self-branded and decorated with merchandise of himself and his fellow legends, zipping it open and showing the contents, almost entirely packed with old DVDs.

“Oh, uh… woah.”

“I… couldn’t decide.”

“Yeah, clearly.” Elliott chuckled a little, looking up at Octavio’s slight frown, which really didn’t sit right on his face. “N-not that that’s bad, it’s just very… fitting, for you. Well, let’s see ‘em and then come to a decm- decrom- ...we can pick together.”

 He did as he was told, slowly giving a basic synopsis of each movie he found, recalling odd details and memories he associated with each one, almost forgetting that when it came to these things, he always revealed his full hand and heart in his excitement.

“Oh, this one is a three-parter, kinda like Saw in that it got criticised a lot for being ‘torture porn’ - it’s not… actually porn, it’s just a term for movies with a lot of graphic violence - b-but the endorsement of the first one from this director dude really carried it to cult status with some people. Oh, this one’s a Wes Craven classic- he did, uh-”

“Uhhhh, Elm Street, and Scream, yeah?”

“Sí, sí! This one kinda flopped, though. I still think it’s neat. Little boring sometimes.” He shuffled in his seat a little, carrying on digging through his bag. “Ah, this is a good one! Aliens in the school faculty tryin’ to kill everyone. Oh, oh, and this one’s got alien’s too, but it’s like… British, so there’s that - think it was important back then, ‘cos of stereotypes and- ah, shit, I brought Saw 6 but not Saw 7, I didn’t bring ‘em all ‘cos the first one is boring-”

“Tav, Tav, relax, buddy. Catch a breath.” Elliott laughed, watching Octavio’s expression shift to one of embarrassment as he deflated a little, movies still in his hands, leg bouncing.

“...Sorry, mi amor, you probably don’t-”

“Hey, of course I care. C’mere.” He wrapped his arms around the runner before he could finish, leaning in to pepper his cheek with kisses, making the man giggle a little, though still somewhat sheepish from his unhinged ramblings. “You’re so cute when you get excited, you know that, right?”

“You remind me every day, amigo.”

“I better. Just look at you.” Giving Octavio a playful cheek pinch, Elliott only laughed when the gesture was returned in kind by a soft shove. “Listen, we have all the time in the world. Just you and me tonight, remember? Pick your favourite, and let’s go from there, for as long as we can go. Sound good?”

Octavio slowly nodded, leaning into his boyfriend’s touch, the tension in his body relaxing a little at the comfort, sifting through the rest of the DVDs that he could barely fit into his backpack before he pulled one out from the back, a small grin on his face, showing the pumpkin on the cover to Elliott. “This one?”

“Gotta love the classics. You know where the player is.”

He practically shot off the sofa, almost dragging Elliott with him with the force as he launched himself towards the TV cabinet, pulling open the glass door where the old DVD player sat and prying open the case, barely able to contain himself as he put the disc inside and watched the machine eat it up. He’d seen this movie thousands of times before, he practically knew it by heart at this point, and his impression of the final girl was top-notch, but somehow, he knew watching it with Elliott would be so much better.

 Octavio crawled his way back onto the trickster’s arms, resting himself against his chest with his knees curled up, brought closer by an arm around his shoulder. He felt a gentle kiss on the top of his head and grinned to himself, focused on the moving image on the screen, any worries he had before seeming to drain away. Elliott has that effect, it seemed - enough that in the fourth movie in, they fell asleep in each other’s arms, even the sounds of snuff film murder and screams down the phone not enough to wake them from a lover’s embrace.

[bubmyg]

Unashamedly inspired by that one clip of him and yeontan,,,, can you write about best friend Yoongi getting a tad bit jealous of you and one of the other members so he goes and grabs your hand to playfully “kidnaps” you

genre/warnings: college “best friend”!yoongi, copious amounts of fluff but mostly from yoon’s pov this time, this takes place a couple days after the events of the blurb title “firsts” which can be found under the “college best friend yoongi” section of my masterlist (love tumblr’s link situation)

word count: 1,330

If he pressed his index finger against his lips just right, closed his eyes, ignored the crash of something just outside the bathroom door followed by Taehyung’s low could you hurry please?, it almost felt like you were kissing him again. 

Yoongi’s expression mocked him in the mirror regardless, wide eyes blinking back open to take in his appearance. Index finger curled under the purse of his bottom lip to worsen and exaggerate the pout already existing there. Latter hand gripping pale knuckles against the lip of the counter to support the lean of his stature. Eyes rounded enough to be the physical embodiment of a sigh. Shoulders slumped underneath the pointed sleeves of his bomber jacket. Black shirt haphazardly stuck underneath his belt. One denim pocket sticking out, revealing a cash bill and receipt he’d forgotten about.

There was another knock and another encouraging statement, slightly more frantic and laced with a teasing I’ll piss on your pillow if you don’t hurry. The sound seemed to travel, collecting all the other sounds of the house party into a neat little box that was shoved into the forefront of Yoongi’s conscious. 

Jeongguk was probably orchestrating a ridiculous drinking game he found on Pinterest (”Yes, I have a Pinterest and yes, I hate you.”). Hoseok was probably following along behind him with a massive trash bag, trying to reduce the trash items they’d have to clean the next morning. Seokjin was probably the cause of the uproar of laughter trailing out the back door into their tiny garden, Jimin’s voice the loudest encouragement of all. 

You were probably still with Namjoon, curled up on the couch with a blanket you’d stolen from Yoongi’s room draped over your exposed shoulders. 

He couldn’t know for sure. He’d fled when staring at your lips from across the room had earned a shy smile and encouraging wave. 

“Yoongi, seriously, I know where you live—”

The black haired boy gave a startled part of his lips when Yoongi tore open the door, glare default and on set at his younger roommate. 

“Yeah. You’re here.” Yoongi shrugged past his friend, halfway to the staircase when Taehyung cheered happily from within the bathroom. 

“Don’t be pissy just because Namjoon’s dancing with your—”

Yoongi took the stairs two at a time, three on the last set, the wood creaking in protest but he didn’t stick around long enough to hear it out. His steps were determined through throngs of people until he made it to the living room, advances stalling in the door frame when he caught sight of his blanket heaped in a sad pile on the couch without you curled up underneath it.

Instead, your hands were clasped in Namjoon’s as he twirled you in messy circles to whatever overplayed pop song Jimin had put on the repeating playlist. He squashed your toe once and nearly dropped you twice in dip attempts in the short two minutes Yoongi endured the sight in front of him and his conscious couldn’t even do him the decency to be jealous, instead throwing a full on tantrum that he wasn’t close enough to the giggling part of your lips. 

The song ended, engulfing the room in a dull chatter but your laughter seemed to fill the space, a response to some sarcastic comment Namjoon had made about leaving the dancing to Jimin when he’d let go of your hands and stepped for his glass resting on the coffee table. 

Yoongi didn’t know when his legs had carried him to your side but your skin was brushing and your lips were a lot closer than they’d been before, startled into a part this time. 

“Hey,” You greeted, as soft as your smile, “You disappeared earlier.”

His fingers curled around his neck and he decided staring off to the side was better than trying to attract your lips to his via glare. He added a inconspicuous chuckle for good measure, “Yeah. Bathroom...”

You nudged him, just enough to get him to look at you. The soft smile was still dimpled into your cheeks as you nodded, “You alright?”

“I...” Yoongi kneaded into his spine before jerking his hand away to grab yours, lacing your fingers together with pointed attention falling to that, “Can you come with me for a second?”

“Yeah, let me just—”

Namjoon had a stupidly knowing expression plastered over his lips when each of you turned to address him, plastic cup rim resting against his bottom lip as he rose a finger and an eyebrow in acknowledgement. 

“Kidnapping your dance partner,” Yoongi provided, higher pitched than he intended and complete with a dopey smile that matched the red that flushed his cheeks. He didn’t hear Namjoon’s low hum of have fun as he led you away. 

“Where are we going?” You chattered absently behind him, clutching onto his hand as he again began to take the stairs a pair at a time. They let him hear their creaks of discontent this time, quieting as you rounded the first flight. The second flight, you began to fill his silence, “If we’re going to your room, I need to go back down and grab your blanket before someone gets something on it—”

Yoongi tugged you up the final few paces, strides long to his bedroom door as he fiddled with the old handle, finesse for the creaking metal not as sharp with shaky hands. 

“—If someone does get something on it, I’ll wash it for you since I know it’s one of your favorites and I dragged it out when I really didn’t need to. I mean, I could have just grabbed something from Hobi’s stash in the hall closet but—”

He pressed you to the inside of his door, silent almost, gentle in nudged your shoulder blades against the wood as he loomed over you. Your rambling words caught on a sharp breath, throat jumping as you swallowed, wide eyes pinned by his. He lifted your intertwined hands, pinning your hand next to your head, lips nearly acheiving that soft brush he’d been craving since that faithful night in your bedroom when your breathless whisper brushed his mouth. 

“Did you bring me up here to kiss me?”

His answer was a near miss, his lips catching the laughter induced dimple on the corner of your mouth, his nose bumping yours but he persisted. His eyes closed, inhaling at the touch and he could feel the spread of your smile as you braved your mouth into position, his thumb underneath your jaw tilting your head so that your lips could smile messily together. He revealed in your warmth at the second touch, sliding the seams together to swallow the soft sound of your content with a prodding tongue between your lips. 

Yoongi’s second answer was a sheepish smile as he pulled away, heat lifting a pretty spring pink to his cheeks as he hid the season away in the crook of your neck. 

“No,” He mumbled finally, lips at the underside of your ear.

You slid flat palms underneath his jacket, upward between his shoulder blades to press him closer to you. 

“You know...” You nudged his ankle, “...all you had to do was ask me to dance.”

His cheeks burned even if he was under no impression that he’d been subtle about his internal intentions and he let go and stepped away just to distance your view of his red blotched skin in the dim light of his bedroom. The puzzle pieces, fuzzy and pink around the edges, continued to blossom across his skin as he held your eye contact, shrugging his jacket off. 

Yoongi hummed, “Come here.”

It was your turn to be bashful and your neck unhinged as you stepped for him, letting him wrap the jacket around your shoulders before you glanced up again. 

He held his hand out to you, palm up, upturned pink lips disappearing into flushed cheeks. 

“Would you like to dance with me, angel?”

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Friends can break your heart too

Summary: Being in love with your best friend is such a cliche, but it didn’t stop Y/N from wanting to be with Grayson. She thinks she’s found the perfect night to tell him how she feels, but did she really? 

Warnings: angst, slight fluff, swearing

Word count: 2200

“Oh my Gosh, Y/N! Ethan and I just got an invite to walk a red carpet and attend the VMA’s!” Grayson rushed through my doors, gleeful and jumping in front of my bed, taking small jumps with his hands in fists pumping before his face. 

I’m quick to drop the book I was very much involved in, deciding my best friend and his happiness is a pressing matter and worthy of celebration. I loved whenever he got excited about something, because he’d get this most intense twinkle in his eye and an awe worthy smile I could never get enough of. The way his entire face lights up and his voice turns pitchy sends my brain on a permanent vacation, allowing my heart to take the wheel. I’m never the type to trust my heart too much, but with Grayson, there wasn’t even a choice. The more time we spent together, the more I knew I’ll fall for him. And I didn’t fight it, despite the knowledge. I wanted to love someone completely, to love him. I was tired of reading about it or seeing it in the movies, prepared to give my heart for the first time ever and he was the only worthy candidate. 

Little did I know I’d end up being his best friend, secretly loving every minute of it and searching for a good time to tell him how he makes my heart flutter and knees go weak. 

“That’s awesome, dude!” I also have a nasty habit of calling him dude and that needs to stop! I shout, jumping from my bed and into his arms so casually, not doubting he’ll catch me for a single moment. Though he grunts at impact, his arms capture my legs and wrap them around his torso, while I do the same with my arms around his neck, glueing myself to him. He spins us to his left, moving toward the bed in case he gets dizzy.

“Wanna come with?” Grayson offers quietly and my heart stops, my hands pushing against his shoulders to face him. 

“With? As in to the event?!” My voice goes higher, legs tightening around him until I cross one foot over the other behind him, my teeth putting pressure on my bottom lip in anticipation. 

Grayson nods vehemently, still grinning from ear to ear and I find myself doing the same.

“Isn’t that in like two months? What if you change your mind?” I find myself wondering out loud, making him frown and he leans in, pecking my nose. 

“There’s no one as important as you, Y/N. I’d never change my mind.” He says solemnly and I’m inclined to believe him and his beautiful hazel eyes and that damn twinkle that’s brighter than my entire future without him in it.

“Promise?” I ask quietly, only now realizing how close we are. My eyes flicker to his plush bottom lip and an urge to bite it grows inside of me. It’s almost impossible to resist, but I have to. I can’t just attack his face and expect everything to go smoothly.

No.

I have to tell him when the time is right and in this moment, this very second as I feel my breathing turning shallow with desire, I decide VMA’s is the night I’ll do it. He’ll be at an all time high, me by his side during the night...what can go wrong?

Wish I never asked that question. 

Not even in my mind.

**

“No, I have the most exquisite dress and I only had to pay for it with my right kidney as fee. But it’s perfect and I think it will blow his mind.” I giggle, the adrenaline and anxiety of the night coming so fast getting to my head. 

James helped glam my face and hair up, but I took care of the dress. I needed something that would make Grayson stop and hypersalivate, to make his heart dance in his chest and his eyes stay on me the entire evening. I needed him to say yes when I tell him how I feel and ask if he feels the same. 

“Kitty girl, go put it on and blow my mind first! Hurry!” James rushed me inside my room, tapping him long nails on the door impatiently the entire time. While I did trip once putting it on and I did almost mess up my lipstick and therefore my dress as well, I did manage to put it on.

I stand in front of the mirror, a little unsure if it’s really me in the reflection. With my hair curled and golden flower pins decorating it, the sides pulled back and a few curls framing my face the rest of my hair is freely flowing at the back. My make up is a work of art, but minimal in a way, colours perfectly mashing, my eyes accentuated with just the right amount of flare without it being over the top and the lips look perfectly kissable with a gentle pink lipstick making them seem a little bigger than usual. The dress is long and golden, spreading from the waist down into something I only ever saw queens in period dramas wear. It’s got a lacy cover with glitter and embroidered floral details, the upper part having short sleeves only covering the first six inches from my shoulders down. The back is open as is the chest area, allowing my breasts to take the show without being tacky. I chose open-toe sandals with a four inch heel, a clutch agreeing with the outfit and confidence came naturally with the glam. A pair of golden wing-shaped dangle earrings Grayson gifted me with are perfect with the outfit and I take a deep breath, troubled with what he’ll think when we see each other. 

“OH! M! G! I LOOOOVEEEE IT!” James screeches from the door and I cover my ears, giggling. 

“He’s totes yours as of tonight and I am SO jealous!” He adds, tearing up a little until I roll my eyes and shake his shoulders.

“You’ll find a man too! Just keep your hands off mine until you do!” I try to keep a straight face when he gives me his best ‘oh, no you didn’t’ face, but we both fail miserably and laugh together while suffering inside over our shared man-crush.

My phone goes off and I realize it’s my time to rush to their place, quickly before I’m late. I know they’re supposed to go soon and I hated not being on time. Though Grayson was clearly excited about the night going well, we didn’t talk much about the day in my bedroom where we barely kept our poise and untangled from each other. But I had a weird feeling in my gut we will get to that tonight.

James decided to drive me, since my ability to drive in these clothes is shot and even though we rushed and broke a few laws, we still found their house empty and neither of them picking up their phone.

“I’ll just take you there directly and we’ll make it! You got the ticket, right? The pass?” James questions, but I feel my happiness slowly disperse and something unsettling take its place.

“No. Uh, Gray does. They got two tickets with a plus one option and I think E. might be taking that girl he’s been dating, Marina, I think. Gray’s my date as we agreed on.” I try to reason with myself and James, realizing it’s all gonna be for nothing if I get there and he’s already inside, his phone forgotten with the screaming crowd and amazing performances. 

I just can’t believe they left me behind. Thought he’d at least wait for me... at least for five measly minutes. 

“Ok. Don’t panic. We’ll make it. And Grayson will love you. This will happen even if I have to set myself on fire!” James screams, clearly being the only one panicking.

“You watch the Kardashians too much.” I remark, getting a playful slap in return. 

However, the block is completely backed up and we can’t even get there on wheels, so I decide to be brave and get out of the car, James shouting after me. More like swearing, but we’ll leave his foul mouth behind.

I move quickly down the street, fans screaming at the entrance. I’m struggling to keep the dress up with my hands, afraid of tripping, but thankfully, I’m there in minutes.

Looking around, I manage to bypass the crowd as they naturally assume I’m there for the carpet and by the grace of God, I stumble into Ethan who is alone for some unexplained reason. 

“Oh, thank God you’re here! Thought you went in already!” I say between breaths, holding onto Ethan’s right elbow to steady myself and hopefully stop perspiring by the time cameras get to us.

“Y/N? What’s - why are you here?!” Ethan says in a hushed tone, seemingly upset and I can’t help but frown at him.

“I’m Grayson’s date. I’m supposed to be here. Well not here, but at your house, but I was late and James drove me here and the cars are -” I start rambling and Ethan groans, slapping a hand over his forehead and dragging the palm down his face.

“I’m going to kill him.” He whisper shouts, gritting his teeth and I feel that weird gut feeling again. It’s stirring inside and my heart is getting the acid backlash droplets from the ever growing stirring sped.

“W-why?” I stammer, swallowing thickly and looking around for the man I’m so blindly in love with that I’d follow him into a fire without looking back.

“He’s - uh, he’s brought someone else. He said he told you, but I guess he forgot. I’m so sorry, Y/N.” Ethan takes my hands in his and he can tell they’re shaking, almost violently. And I know he can tell, because the next thing I know I’m wrapped in his arms.

“You’re my plus one. Okay? You look absolutely stunning and I’m proud to show my best friend off! C’mon!” Ethan pulls me with him, ignoring my attempts to stop.

“E. stop! Stop! I don’t want to go in!” I force him to stop walking and look at me, pity and anger swimming in his hazel eyes. The same eyes Grayson has, the glint in them being different; it’s there, but the intensity, the colour of it is different somehow. 

“Ethan!” Grayson comes up from behind him, his hand clutching his right shoulder and his eyes looking to him first before moving over to me. His eyes quickly flicker to Ethan before settling on me once more, looking me up and down slowly as his jaw unhinges and his lips part, opening his mouth widely as I hoped he would at the look of me. 

“Y/N?! What are y - oh, God! I’m an asshole. I’m such an asshole!” He repeats, eyes wide and I gulp, swallowing tears as I feign a smile and nod.

“No one is as important as me, huh? You promise, huh?” I throw his words back at him, struggling to keep my voice calm as emotions of my first heartbreak overwhelm me.

“You don’t understand. I met Sara last week and we clicked. I really think she might be the one! I’m so sorry I forgot to tell you about this change, but Marina couldn’t come so you can still wow people with that amazing look on Ethan’s arm?” Grayson’s trying to smooth things over because otherwise he’d be the bad guy and he can’t handle it. He can’t handle screwing up as royally as he did and he needs me to let him off the hook. He’s pleading for me to take what I’m offered and just go with the flow so he doesn’t feel shitty. The thing is, he doesn’t seem to know, seem to care how my heart feels. Even if I wasn’t completely, head over heels in love with him, this would still hurt like a bitch and I’d still feel like I don’t matter to him. Because that’s what he showed tonight. That I don’t matter to him. That I’m not enough.

“Oh, I understand perfectly.” I tell him bitterly, swallowing a few other choice words before turning to Ethan.

“Thank you for caring, but I’ll be leaving now.” I pick up my dress and turn to leave, hearing them both asking me to stay. 

“Don’t be selfish and ruin their night over a mix up.” A female voice joins the argument and I stop, tensing up and turn to see her in all her glory. And she is show-stopping gorgeous, the model type Grayson seems to go for every damn time. 

Every. 

Damn. 

Time.

“I understand perfectly.” I repeat my previous statement and dash out of there, rushing back from where I came from before someone sees my tears ruining everything James worked so hard for.

I spent my time wishing to feel the love I’ve seen in books and movies, completely forgetting there’s another side to that coin. Sometimes the girl doesn’t get the boy. Sometimes it ends in tears and heartbreak. Now all I’m wishing for is to not feel anything at all.

Part 2

Tags: @xalayx @heeydolan @accalialionheart @fallinginlove-16

[quatschmachen]

Fresh Powder

Here’s a nice 2000′s fic.

Starring an Edward Murphy and his fam. A part one of sorts.

XXX

He did not think he had any tears left in him.

After Calvin had left him, Edward had realized what a fool he had been to even think that a new century could mean a new him, a new future, a new reality, a new hope.

He had watched Calvin grow over the years, become a (somewhat) capable man. From the spoiled child to the awkward teenager to someone who he could view as an equal, someone he could talk to beyond their competitive games. Where their rivalry was one that lifted the other person up – but with the tacit knowledge that when shit hit the fan the other would have their back. Or that’s what he had thought. Where Calvin was person he could trust – he had made the mistake in viewing him as a genuine friend. The fact that Calvin had dropped and broke his cup in shock, said some hurtful shit and just… left, had torn open a gaping wound in Edward.

Everything that he had been certain of, the stuff he had felt slightly hopeful for, gone like smoke in those actions. A true betrayal. All those times where he had supported the other man through the toughest of times, their decades of friendship, meaningless. He had expected Calvin to be shocked, sure, but he thought you know, maybe after a bit of shouting or disbelief, the other man would stick around. Swallow his pride, realize that just because he discovered Edward was gay – which he had always been for the entirety of their friendship - didn’t actually change anything. It felt as if Edward’s entire identity had become subsumed into the nebulous concept of “Gay,” and that Calvin had purposely forgotten who the hell Edward was – is. The exact thing Edward hadn’t wanted to happen had happened. He was no longer an autonomous person, but simply the outcast.

Somewhere, rambling in the deepest pits of feeling sorry for himself, Edward felt a slow burning anger. Something he didn’t want to acknowledge, something he purposely was drowning to death with his own tears. Instead he fell into what he knew, the grooves of self-pity he felt most comfortable in, drawing it around him like a heavy damp protective blanket.

It had been an absolute fucking mistake to come out.  All the crushing anxiety and depression which he had thought would magically disappear if he would be goddam honest for once in his fucking life fell upon him like the walls of Erebus. The rest of his plans, his next steps were in disarray all around him.

The plans of coming out, trumpeting across the land that he was here, he was queer, and yes he was a homosexual, had crumbled. The plans of telling Étienne that he was coming out finally, after years of prodding, offhand comments, seeing the other man’s frustration as Edward kept dragging the other man into the closet with him, that the plan of saying those words would somehow magically heal that rift between them. That rift created by him – it was entirely his fault. By him not coming out. He could see how each interaction, as their relationship became more entangled, was slowly hollowing the other man out, turning Étienne into his personal closet. Here he was fucking it up again, and the other man didn’t even have to be in the same province. The space he had carved out with the other man, where he thought he could step outside, had vanished with the first step he had taken, and he feared that turning around, telling Étienne what a failure he had been, would seal that door forever.

All he could think about was the North Saskatchewan during the winter. Where each tension between them had turned them into a separate ice flow. Like crystalized scabs upon the surface of the fast running river, where once they had been jammed up beside each other, almost as if one sheet of ice. Those tense gaps between them, the words he could never say, had grown from a splinter to something more where the current was tearing them apart. And soon with the spring, or perhaps a false spring, when the weather gets warm in February and the rift between the two ice sheets grow, and you think maybe the thawing is a good thing, where instead of being brittle you can turn into the water and bend into each other --- that doesn’t happen. The river refreezes and between them instead of the water, it’s a new sheet of ice, whose growth shoves one and the other to opposite sides of the shore, one towards the slow moving inner bend, the other to be lost completely under the fast moving outer bend, to be subsumed and drowned, communication between them gone.

Edward knew which one he was, hell he was drowning in his own tears.

Edith had stopped by, but he hadn’t wanted to let her in, instead ignoring her persistent knocking. She had come in anyway and tutted over him. “Why are you laying on the floor like a dead baby seal?” she was crouching beside him. In response he turned his face further into the blue shag carpet.

“Edward…” she fully sat on the ground beside him, her fingers carding into his hair as she gently stroked. “What happened?”

He simply grunted in response.

“It didn’t go so well, huh?”

She sat beside him for a while, allowing him to roll into her thigh and ugly cry.

“And a no to you having a birthday party?”

He let out a sniffle in response.

Edith began to hum, as she played with his hair, “Are you planning to lay here all day and night like a lump?”

Her brother did not respond, “So this again huh? Do you need me to get you some more chips or something?”

Edward gave a small grunt, which Edith interpreted as a yes.

“Look, I gotta go, but I will return with chips,” Edith gave Edward a small pat, as she finally began to move, grumbling about her legs falling asleep and needing to pee.

When she had left, Edward suddenly felt even more lonely. As if the one piece of hope had left the room, and the misery fully descended upon him again.

In some ways it was like when Gretzky had left. That was another time when he had turned into a useless lump, but at least that time Étienne had visited and made him feel better.

Étienne wasn’t visiting now.

No one was visiting now.

He was fairly certain he had not moved for days, but to be honest he had no sense of time, other than the fact Edith had returned and restocked his favourite comfort foods. An hour felt like a century, a minute an hour, it could have simply been a day. Simply gone dormant, wake up enough to cry, but that’s about it.

This was perhaps why he nearly shit himself when out of the blue he heard Mac’s voice not even a foot away from him.

“Lord jaysus to the sun and moon and back what de hell is ‘appenin’ here?”

It was interesting how over time Mac’s language had simply accommodated, or perhaps incorporated Atlantic turns of phrase, Edward mulled over. Mac used to speak his English slower, more measured, probably because he spent most of his time thinking in his odd mix of Chipewyan, Cree and French.

<My imminent death,> Edward joked in Cree.  

“Yer speakin’ tongues, me son.”

Edward rolled over, rubbing his eyes, and sighed, “Mac, for the last time, you are not from Atlantic Canada and don’t need to put on this… fake accent.”

Mac frowned, “I have an accent now?”

“Yeah and its like the bastard child of everyone who ever decided to live in you.”

There was the sound of a plastic bag crinkling, and the sound of the couch springs straining as Mac sat down. Edward heard the sound of the beer can being popped open.

A few minutes of silence passed, until Mac gently ventured, “So I takes it ye don’t want to do the usual New Year cross country skiing?”

Edward frowned. How could he forget? It was a ‘tradition’ started god knows when. Probably when travel between his and Mac’s got easier, where sometime with the New Year’s snow, they would arrange a time to ski together. Strange perhaps, but having someone who instead of bitching about the snow and cold took absolute delight in it was refreshing. There were times where Edward didn’t want to pretend to hate where he lived, and being with Mac was one of those times.

“I think I need to eat first… and maybe wash.”

It was as if with Mac’s arrival the strings to the puppet master had got reattached, and Edward found himself once more able to get up, go through the motions of ‘human.’

They did not go skiing that first day. It was as if by Mac’s arrival, Edward suddenly became conscious of how disgusting he had been living, so instead, he recruited Mac to help him clean up.  The other man didn’t comment much, only asked on how to clean certain items, and once, got his hand trapped in the vacuum cleaner while trying to change the bag.

It was rather obvious to Edward that while Mac was competent in many aspects of his life, cleaning was not his forte. But maybe that was fine – he hadn’t laughed in ages, and seeing how stricken the other man looked, hand trapped in machine and bag, had acted as a medicine he hadn’t known he needed.

And somewhere between here and there Edward remembers that between the broken parts, sometimes there are still pieces worth picking up.

XXXX

The cool crisp air, the shhh shhh of the skis slicing the fresh snow, their breath hanging behind them like airplane trails. That feeling of being in another world with the snow-laden pine trees, the magpies laughing in the distance, the slow rush of the river, the water running under the large ice sheets, propelled by necessity to continuously flow.

The powdery snow all around them like the powdered drug they had taken before leaving for a small buzz, a shared bad habit ‘between men’.

Both of them bundled up, Edward could only find his bright blue ski suit, but Mac hadn’t said anything – hell the other man had brought a bright orange one, which he had joked had been assigned from ‘OH&S’.

His cheeks fresh with the cold, Edward felt his mouth become unhinged, as suddenly the words began to flow out of him. Stuff he usually would never consider telling Mac.

Mac, a man who was hard to read, hard to determine what he was thinking, (or Edward knew, many people wondered if Mac even thought), where assumptions were made without even meeting the man.

However, Mac in his own quiet strange way, was one of the people closest to him (not that a lot of other people would know that, it wasn’t like he brought the other man up in conversation all that much, specifically for the fact he did not want to spend his time listening to tired refrains of how bad the other man was).

“I’ve fucked up, really fucked everything up and I can’t un-fuck it.” The words were flowing, and he could tell the other man was listening.  “And it’s something I can’t go back on and once it’s out it’s out. I don’t even know where to go from here.”

“Tells me, do ye wanna un-fuck it?” Mac slowly asked.

Edward closed his eyes, breathing deep, “So so badly.” Tears were freezing on the edges of his lashes as he took a gulp of air, attempting to pretend it was the exercise making it hard to breathe.

Their skis had come to rest at a small out of the way overlook next to the river. Mac took out a small mickey of whiskey, took a swig, and passed it to Edward.

“Can ye un-fuck it?”

“I told you I cant.”

Mac shook his head, “I means like, whatever it is, is this sometin’ that would be out regardless?”

Edward sighed miserably, “Mac, I’m a dick-sucking faggot, and I made the irreversible confession to Calvin on New Year’s thinking… I dunno… he would be fine knowing I’m a homo? And obviously he wasn’t, he just lost it and no one wants to be near me because- because I’m who I am and--- Why the hell are you sniggering?”

“Wells, Chucky boy, did ye just tells Brisy that yer a dick-suckin’ fag? Like was those the words you said? Ye knows how he’s a bit of a prude—I thinks he was just shocked by you mentionin’ dick.”

Edward took another swig of the whiskey, “No! I just said I was gay!” He glared over at Mac and then added, “Why the hell are you so fucking fine with this?”

Mac shrugged, and took the whiskey back, “Chuck, I knews sometin’ was up wi’ ye for aaaaages.” He switched into Cree as he teased, <No girl’s ever interested you, your eyes always wandered.>

<Are you saying I was always obvious to you?>

<We’ve known each other since before the current laws, we like as we do, I may not be central in social life but that does not mean I don’t see.> Neatly tucking the bottle into his jacket, Mac switched back to English, “Ye been assumin’ I just am some brainless rig pig? Be tossing ye into the river just cuz y’ve left me more women to fuck?”

Flushing from embarrassment, and realizing, that yes, on some level, he had been making such assumptions about the other man, Edward was silent. The knot in his stomach had begun to loosen, as he realized that perhaps he was not quite all alone. He looked out at the river, calm, heavy with the ice, and his eyes drifted to the open gaps around the legs of the bridges, where it never did quite freeze over, the pillars disrupting expected flow, uplifting something different, new. Bridges where before there were ferries, and where once existed the makeshift pully gondola; to pull the horses and goods up the cliff like walls of the river valley.  Those continuous changes built by men like Mac, whose hard labour uplifted the walls of the fort into the towers of the city. The working-class who broke their bodies to support their family, to support their bad habits to support their broken bodies, and whose narratives were stolen by the more eloquent rich. He should have known better. Hell, he and Mac had often held the same job. He let out a shaky breath, not sure what to say or even how to apologize.

“Anyways, as I sees it ye owes me a case of beers for bein’ a stupid as shit idiot,” Mac grunted as he set out on the trail again.

Edward took a moment to watch as the other man moved away from him, not even arguing this fact.

[buckbarnesjames]

Chapter Five

Pairings: Bucky x reader

Warnings: Angst. 

Word Count: 1377

A/N: Hey guys, I’m rewriting this series with new ideas (I will eventually start the next chapters too) so I’ve split this chapter up and included some new things. Taglist is OPEN. Feedback appreciated!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“It’s nice to meet you too, Winnie,” you say, a bright smile on your face. You squeeze Bucky’s hand softly, letting him know that you’ve got this. Looking over to the lounge you see Bucky’s father and sister standing around a little awkwardly. You approach them, a smile still on your face. “Hi, I’m Y/N” you say to Bucky’s father, extending your hand out for him to shake. “George” he says, a hint of a smile on his face as she shakes your hand. You turn to the young girl next to him. “I’m Rebecca, but you can call me Becca” you reach out to shake her hand, and she takes it, then pulls you into a hug. “I can’t believe Bucky has a girlfriend!” she gushes, and your eyes widen slightly. You and Bucky hadn’t exactly decided that’s what you were. You both loved each other, that much was true, but neither of you had suggested labelling anything. You just chuckle at Rebecca, and she places her hands on your shoulders studying you, “She’s gorgeous too, Buck!” She shouts over to him, teasingly. Bucky rolls his eyes at her and you feel a little awkward at the compliment but smile softly in Rebecca’s direction.

Bucky and his mother walk towards the gathering in the lounge. “We were just on our way to our usual Sunday lunch, so we stopped by to invite Bucky” Winne says, smiling as she watches Bucky walk towards you and wrap an arm around your waist as you smile up at him and whisper a little ‘hi’. “Would you like to join us?” Rebecca asks you, she’s practically bouncing on the spot with excitement at meeting you. You look up at Bucky waiting for him to answer. You would gladly have gone to lunch with Bucky’s family but you weren’t sure if he already had plans for the two of you. “Lunch sounds great” Bucky finally answers, unwrapping his arm from your waist only to reach for your hand.

You spend the rest of the afternoon with Bucky’s family, getting a little glimpse into Bucky’s childhood when Winnie gushes about him and Rebecca teases him. George seems a little more reserved than the others, but he occasionally joins in with the conversation. “It was lovely to meet you all” You say, hugging Winnie and Rebecca goodbye. You shake George’s hand and this time, you’re greeted with a full-blown smile. You’re texting Johnathan to bring the car around when you hear George whispering to Bucky, “I really like this one.” You turn to watch their exchange, George hugs Bucky and Bucky grins at him. “Thanks Dad, I like this one too,” he says, noticing you watching them. You roll your eyes and stick your tongue out at him, hearing George chuckle at the exchange.

You’re lying in bed later that night staring up at the ceiling. Bucky is besides you, his head resting on your shoulder and an arm wrapped around your waist. You think he’s sleeping until you feel him press his lips to your shoulder. “Y/N, what’s wrong?” he asks, his voice laced with concern. “I’m just thinking” you say, reaching a hand to thread your fingers through his hair. Bucky sighs at the contact. “About?” he says as he peppers your shoulder with comforting kisses. “Something Becca said” you admit, and he immediately knows what you’re referring to. “When she called you my girlfriend?” he asks and you hum a reply, lost in thought and staring up at the ceiling again. Bucky moves then so that he’s hovering over you. “Well...I’d say you were,” he says, planting a kiss on your forehead. You sigh, closing your eyes at the contact. Bucky lies back down again, pulling you into his chest and tucking your head under his chin. “Now, if that’s all you were worried about...go to sleep. We have work tomorrow” he says, feigning grumpiness. You giggle, snuggling into him and closing your eyes. You drift off soon after, a smile gracing your lips.

The next morning, you and Bucky arrive to work together. The secret is officially out after the gala fiasco. It’s a little weird when everybody stares at you but you do your best to ignore it. Bucky’s arm is wrapped around your shoulder and you’re laughing at something he says when you walk into your shared office. “Dolores!” he calls out in surprise. A pretty woman with clearly dyed blonde hair, who holds herself as if she’s the most important person in the room, is standing at his desk. “What are you doing here?” Bucky asks, his arm dropping from your shoulder. There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach. You knew who this was. You’d heard the rumours about Bucky’s ex-fiance Dolores, or Dot as most people called her. “Y/N, could you give us a moment?” Bucky turns to you, a pleading look on his face. You nod your head and walk out, immediately setting off to find Nat and Wanda.

“I would have called but this is really important, Buck.” Dot says to Bucky, a grave look on her face. “James” he corrects her. “What is it Dolores?” he asks, his tone agitated. The unexpected arrival had soured his mood completely. “It’s Brock. He and his father made an offer to my father. He told them he wants to think about it, but you should know that out of loyalty to your father and given our families history - he won’t go for it.” Dot says and Bucky internally rolls his eyes. “Is that really all you came to tell me?” he says as he moves to look through the files on his desk, completely uninterested. “Brock is unhinged, James. He always has been, but he’s gotten worse these last few years. He wants what he wants, and he’ll step over anyone and do anything to get what he wants” Dot confesses. At this, Bucky drops the files on to his desk and looks up at her. “And what does he want, exactly?” Bucky’s tone is demanding, he doesn’t have time for Dot to drag this out. ��� Your company and…” Dot looks towards the door and takes a deep breath in, “And her,” her tone is hushed, worried that you’re outside the door. Bucky’s stomach twists at the idea of anything happening to you. “Thank you for informing me. I’ll be in touch with you and your father, so we can try to work together to rectify this situation and get something on Brock” Bucky says, showing Dot to the door. He needed to find you, right now.

He’s pacing the office, calling your phone for the hundredth time, when you appear in the doorway. “Oh thank god” he gasps out, rushing towards you. Bucky places a hand on your face, stroking your cheek before pulling you into a kiss - his lips crushing against yours. “Bucky, is everything okay?” you ask, his anxiety is palpable. You’d never seen him this worried. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. Dolores was here about Brock” your jaw clenches at the name and you feel sick. “I need to hire some security until we can control the situation. Steve and I have an old college friend called Sam, he’s a veteran and now works in private security. I’m going to get in contact with him, and ask for some of his best agents to protect you” Bucky rambles on as you try to process the news. “Protect me?” Bucky, what an earth is going on?!” Bucky can hear the pleading in your voice, and he swallows. He’s trying to think how best to approach the subject without scaring you, but truthfully he was scared too. He takes a deep breath before speaking again, “Brock wants the company...and you. Dolores was warning me. He’s dangerous, Y/N. I didn’t realise just how dangerous he was when I argued with him at the gala. I’m so sorry I’ve put you in danger.” You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him, effectively shutting him up. “It’s not your fault, Bucky, It’s okay. We’ll figure things out. Nothing’s going to happen to me.” You say attempting to comfort him.

If only you knew how wrong you were.

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day One Hundred Twenty-One: Sanity ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: A Light Amongst Shadows ] [ AO3 Link ]

The rumors, though he couldn’t know for sure, Sasuke was convinced had started long before he returned to Konoha. About how he was unhinged. Deranged. Insane. The longer his journey went on - the more desperate his actions became - the more depraved the people of Konoha assumed him to be.

Oh, but if only they knew the city of blood and bone they called home...the foundation built on the bodies of his kinsmen beginning with Madara’s betrayal. If only they knew just how much he had to avenge...to bring justice to.

And in reality, it went much further than that. The very system of shinobi had been crafting villages out of corpses since their foundings. Hence his wish to wipe out the prior Kage. To clear the slate, and make way for a new era free from the ideals of the people that had brought them to the brink of extinction.

Insanity in the eyes of many...but he’d thought the notion sound. The only way to let a dying tree recover...is to remove the rotting branches that hinder it. Only then can the wound close, and the flora flourish. If you leave what is diseased, it will only spread once you turn your back until the entire thing withers.

They claim now that those in power are leaving behind the ways of the past.

...he’ll wait and see.

For now, he’s back in the village of his birth. A place of conflicted feelings. It was here, for seven years, he lived with his clan. Not all happy memories, but...all he has left of them. And yet here, too, were they murdered for daring to stand up for themselves and against their oppression.

Only recently as the council been outed, the clans united against their executive orders. Having narrowed his gaze to tending to Konoha, rather than attempt to cure the world...Sasuke hopes this will be a large first step in trimming Konoha of its hindered branches.

But his return, though celebrated by some...hasn’t been so for many. The very day he arrived - and it’s going on four months now - he heard the whispers. Seen the sidelong glances, the scowls, the glares.

As expected.

In all honesty, he hasn’t been paying them much mind. He’s one of the two strongest shinobi in their world. He’s hardly scared of some wary civilians or petty chūnin. The only people who could really give him any trouble wouldn’t dare.

...but that doesn’t mean they aren’t among the masses.

Upon returning, Sasuke didn’t waste any time making his sentiments known. He still held resentment for his team’s treatment of him. Of Sakura’s shallow obsession, or Naruto’s so-called friendship. He’d confronted them before leaving: asking them how they could, in good conscience - after learning all he had learned about the Uchiha, and the council’s decision to eliminate them - still think the best course of action was to drag him back, unwillingly, to his family’s slaughtering grounds. Better yet, when asked what plans they’d had to address such injustice?

Nothing. Not a word. Not a single hint or idea of how they’d have helped him seek recompense for all his clan had faced.

“Admit it. All you two cared about was getting the boy you thought I was back,” he’d hissed, holding no bars. “Sakura, you wanted me to come back and fall in love with you. As if I ever could with someone so superficial. Naruto...you’ve always claimed to be my friend. But when have you ever listened to me…? Taken my thoughts, my feelings, into account? Both of you...had imagined yourselves owed my time and attention. Because we were classmates, teammates, friends. But when did either of you ever take the time to acknowledge all I faced…? All I’d gone through? Never. Any time I tried to think for myself - make my own decisions - you forbade me!

“And on what grounds? You had no right to decide my future for me...when you gave no thought to my past. I chose to learn under Orochimaru. Never did I need your permission. Even if I was a missing nin because of it...it wasn’t your place to tell me what I could and couldn’t do in order to achieve my goals...goals no one ever offered me help with. Never did I want your attention, your friendship. All I ever wanted...was to get through my training, and avenge my clan. The rest was fodder. Unnecessary. A distraction. And whenever I prioritized my plans? Whenever I tried to leave behind what I never wanted in the first place? You took it as a personal slight. Tried to control me. I never wanted a team. Friends. No matter what you thought, you weren’t something I ever asked for. So to act like I owed you anything...was a joke.

“And it’ll be a damn long time before either of you learn that lesson...and longer still before you can make up to me all you did to me. The only time I ever confronted either of you was when you stood in my way. Otherwise? I’d never had raised a hand to you. It was you who put yourselves in my path. Impeded my progress. What choice did I have but to fight back? And when I dared stray…? Sakura, you whined and pleaded to Naruto. And Naruto? You insisted on beating me into submission until I bent to your will. Without any consideration for what I wanted, or needed. All that mattered was that you two wanted for me. That’s not friendship. Not even close.”

Needless to say...it left both of them giving him wary looks from then on. And he simply ignored them. He spoke his truth. His feelings on the matter. If they couldn’t see that...well, then he still wouldn’t want them.

Even now, they too look to him as though he’s ready to snap at any moment. As though he’s entirely unstable, devoid of his sanity. Practically everyone outside his family assumes he’s a lit fuse, just waiting for the right moment to go off. As short as his patience may have run at times - as driven as he was, no matter what actions he had to take - he’s not that boy anymore.

But none of them bother to see that.

...none, that is, but one.

Hinata faced her own sets of challenges. Some, oddly enough, ran parallel to Sasuke’s own. Dismissive fathers, hurtful brother figures that showed truer colors, underestimated members of ‘royal’ dōjutsu clans...while Hinata may not have lost her clan, her so similar position in one meant understanding more than most.

Of course, her connections to the twins’ mother helped in that. She was privy to far more far earlier than the rest of them before taking down the council. She, therefor, was able to see Sasuke in a much more comprehensive light.

Never has she looked down on him since his return. Shied from him. Glared at him or whispered. She just...treats him like any other person.

And gods is he thankful for that.

“So...think I’m nuts like everyone else?”

She’d startled, looking to him in shock. “I...w-what?”

His head had tilted to the rest of their group. “...they all seem to think I’m a ticking time bomb. A landmine just waiting to be stepped on. But you don’t walk on eggshells like they seem to. Why?”

Pale eyes blinked, thinking. “...because...I understand what you did. And why. While I can’t imagine having l-lost what you lost...I have to wonder if I would have - could have - done the same in their name. To me...you were v-very brave. Maybe flawed, in some ways...but you still put their justice above all else...even morality. And to learn that such a tragedy was orchestrated…” Her head had shook. “...I admire how you handled it, in the end. It couldn’t have been easy. But...though you made some wrong choices, you seem determined to make the right ones now. You want Konoha to be better. And...it needs to be better.

“So no...I don’t think you’re unstable.” Her head tilted, looking almost through him, or so he thought. “...I think...you’ve changed a lot. And g-grown. You’ve been through so much, Sasuke-kun. To make it out alive was miracle enough. I think...anyone in your shoes would have been just as affected as you were. Just because they didn’t experience what you did - just because they can’t understand - doesn’t m-mean they should treat you lesser. You’re doing your best...and doing better all the time. I hope...someday, the rest of them will see that.”

...would it be any wonder then, that one of the few he left with a clean slate - and who in turn let his be clean when he returned - would be the one he’d lose his heart to?

     I...dunno if I did this QUITE as I wanted, but...as usual, I'm left to do this very late, with limited time, so...I did my best ^^;      The original fic that got me into SasuHina - A Traitor Branded over on FF - explored Sasuke's mental state a LOT. Granted, it was written long before the end of canon, and it varies quite a bit that way. And...there's some things about it, looking back now, that leave a bad taste in my mouth. But I DO still like how in-depth the author got into Sasuke's trauma and mental state.      I wanted to do some of that here, but...just not enough time / energy ^^; Maybe another time. But I AM glad I got to - at least in part - have Sasuke talk about how he saw his team's treatment of him. It's something I could write about for days: how they never actually were his friends, and simply felt entitled to him when he really wanted nothing to do with ANYONE due to his narrow focus and goals. Sakura's shallow feelings are, imo, obvious. And Naruto always just beating Sasuke's butt whenever they disagreed just...reallllly makes me mad. Hence honestly disliking when they're written buddy-buddy...and WAY more so when people ship them. Just...I can't see anything but Naruto's abuse of Sasuke ^^; At least in my interpretation, and everyone's is different~      But WOW I'm rambling - can you tell I'm tired? I should meta another time xD For now, bed. And as always, thanks for reading!

[lemonysharkbait]

Participants pt. 5

As usually, sorry updates take so long, but here’s part 5! 

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

GREY

Rain spattered against the dark concrete, puddling in cracks and soaking Grey’s shoes. The rain had none of the warmth of spring but this drop-off was somehow colder. Grey pursed his lips, huddling under the awning of a clandestine casino.

He didn’t recognize these men but they had given the correct sign. They were part of the She’s operation. A petal flowed past Grey’s foot, caught in a stream of rainwater. The men had insisted on ripping open the boxes of flowers that the illegal shipments of blood came in and tossing the flowers onto the sidewalk.

“If it’s good, I’ll grab the rest of the boxes.” Grey said in an attempt to hurry this up. He was chilled to the bone.

One of the thugs raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth, telling off Grey for something or other. Grey didn’t really listen. He knew they were all bark. Well, She Li’s men could also be bite, but he had dealt with shady groups enough to know when they were serious and when they just wanted to sound good.

Grey waited patiently, stoney faced.

Finally back in the delivery truck, the drop-off done, Grey cranked the heat and headed back to the flower market. He was glad Guan Shan hadn’t come along this time to make the drop-offs. He would have mouthed off at the guys at the casino, started a scene, possibly gotten himself beat. He actually hadn’t seen the redhead since they made one drop-off together about three weeks ago. Actually for that matter, he hadn’t seen He Tian in awhile either. Maybe Guan Shan did become his participant.

Grey shook himself from his thoughts, guiding the delivery truck into its cramped spot in the back of the flower market. Inside, the market was empty. Grey shuddered at the quiet and dim stillness. Chen, the owner of this stall and the main contact for smuggled blood, wasn’t in the back portion like normal. Grey made his way to the front where the display coolers stood holding the remnants of Valentine’s day flowers. Little paper signs with handwritten prices advertised deep discounts.

“Chen? I’m here to return your truck keys.” Normally she was out back in the truck’s parking spot, smoking, or she was inside yelling in a mixture of Mandarin and English into the speaker of her bulky office phone, a phone so old it still had a cord.

Grey was about to dial He Tian to see if he knew what to do when the back door burst open. Chen streamed in, soaked to the bone but somehow holding a dry and lit cigarette. Her signature apron was missing and Grey noticed she was wearing street clothes instead of her flower market uniform.  

“I’ve been waiting for you,” Chen snapped.

Grey handed over the keys. “Sorry, I didn’t see you outside.”

“This rain,” Chen waved her hand holding the cigarette vaguely, “it’s bad luck, a bad omen to have this rain and that snow we had last month.” She shook her head and took a drag of her cigarette.

Something had Chen worked up. She never smoked inside (put that out! You’ll ruin the flowers) and she spoke all business, not caring to gossip or small-talk.

Grey’s phone buzzed. “Well, my ride is here, see you next time Chen.” Grey moved to leave but Chen held him in place with a solid look. She took another drag on her cigarette, calculating something. Grey waited.

“Some of my smugglers are acting strange. Their prices for a simple request quadrupled. They’re smuggling something and it’s not blood.” She looked at some point behind Grey, eyes unfocused. “I don’t think it’s drugs either. Something is going on and I can’t tell if it’s vampires or people or both.”

A silence hung and Grey was about to make to leave when Chen snapped to. “I shouldn’t ramble, you’re a peon when it comes to these matters. You’ll catch hypothermia dressed like that, your feet are all soaked. Stay inside until it’s spring. There’s nothing good come from these early rains.”

HE TIAN

Vampires.

What were they but parasites? He Tian pressed his head against his apartment’s cool glass windows, thinking about the taste of Guan Shan on his lips. Sometimes, he was so soft and pliant, all his hard edges gone for a moment. This thirst wasn’t going to lessen. 

The light from his phone felt blinding. He scrolled through his contacts half-heartedly, no participant sounded good today. Nothing sounded good. The only thing he wanted was to hold the redhead close and breath in the smell of him. He wanted to drink from him. 

He curled his lip at the thought. It was such a selfish impulse. But none of his contacts sounded good tonight. He had the urge to throw phone, frustrated and thirsty. Compose yourself, He Tian. You dug yourself into this, into being around him. Too late to find your way out now.

A blood bag would have to do for tonight.

GUAN SHAN

Come over now.

That’s it. That’s all the message said. Guan Shan practically felt his phone burning through his jacket pocket. 

He had been fooling around with He Tian in the office room at the Blue Crow when the text came through. His face dropped when he saw it and he made up some excuse to go. It had been a week since he had almost gone to jail as the fall guy for She Li. He still didn’t understand why He Tian had saved him, or how. But ever since that night in He Tian’s apartment, they couldn’t seem to keep their hands off each other. 

Guan Shan told himself it wasn’t anything. Didn’t mean anything. They never talked about it– whatever it was. Still, He Tian looked awfully concerned when he left and Guan Shan was sure He Tian knew who he was meeting. 

--- Guan Shan parked his motorcycle in the middle of She Li’s massive driveway, purposely making it difficult for anyone to come or go. The doors opened when he walked up. Not a good sign. One of She Li’s many attendants took Guan Shan’s helmet and ushered him into a dim room lit with a fireplace.

She Li was there, draped in a chair and holding a lit cigar.

Guan Shan repressed a shiver as unnaturally golden eyes scanned him up and down. This was the first time they had met since Guan Shan escaped going to jail. She Li did not seem pleased. The vampire stood. He wasn’t much taller than Guan Shan, but he was bulkier and his slink carried the menace of an animal unhinged.

“I always knew you were a bit of a slut.”

Guan Shan tensed but didn’t say anything. He couldn’t know, could he?

“You reek of He Tian.”

“I work with him.”

“Mm, that’s not what I’m smelling.” She Li crowded in close. Guan Shan made a conscious effort to stand his ground.

“You do have a knack for tangling yourself up with powerful vampires but I didn’t think you’d tangle yourself in his sheets so quickly.”

“We didn’t– what do you want She Li?”

She Li exhaled smoke, “I’m not surprised though, you obviously have influential ‘friends’ to pull off what you did. And how else would you get those friends than with that body of yours?”

It was as if She Li had access to Guan Shan’s innermost fears. He couldn’t fathom why He Tian had helped him. It wasn’t for the Blue Crow. It wasn’t for anything Guan Shan could do. It had to be, well– what had they just done together?  

She Li slinked to his chair and took another puff of his cigar, tapping the ash into an ashtray that was probably worth more than what Guan Shan made in a month. “I have orders to keep He Tian busy. I thought you might help but seems like you’re all I need to keep him occupied. Get close to him and tell me anything that seems important.”

Guan Shan felt the eager presence of vampires behind him, silent predators excited for a taste. She Li motioned at the vampires, “Go ahead, you can drink.”  

“I don’t know them–” Guan Shan felt cool fingers at his neck.

She Li sauntered over, clearly intoxicated by the scene before him. By some cue Guan Shan missed, the two vampires behind him, the ones waiting to drink from him, wrenched his arms behind his back and forced him to his knees in one smooth motion. She Li crouched, gripping Guan Shan’s chin, forcing eye contact. “I know them. They’re not diseased.” his voice dropped low so only they could hear, “Tell me, how did he taste? I hope he was good. Because even though this is all working out in my favor, I’m still pissed that my plan didn’t go through. We live by our plans. Our reputations are by our plans, and you fucked that all up.” He looked at Guan Shan for a moment before releasing his chin.

She Li discussed business while the two vampires fed. There were others in the room, Guan Shan could feel the tension of want, his blood stoking jealousy. But all he could think about was how he didn’t want to lie to He Tian.

JIN YI

Jin Yi loved the way Zheng Xixi looked after him as though he was in need of something. As though he wasn’t a vampire, several hundred years old and the son of one of the most powerful vampire families in all of Beijing.

He loved the way Zhang Xixi was all business when they first met. That first meeting, Zhang Xixi, dressed in his cop uniform, took careful notes in his notepad and asked careful questions about the car crash. He didn’t seem at all bothered by the fact that Jin Yi was a vampire. The other cops were ancy, a few steps too far away, their hands near their guns, their eyes darting towards Jin Yi surreptitiously. To be fair, there was blood everywhere.

A semi-truck was driving too fast and hit a patch of ice, It plowed into stopped traffic. Jin Yi had stumbled from his car, mostly unscathed. Others weren’t so lucky.

The paramedics tended to everyone but Jin Yi, carting away the injured and handing blankets and waters to the rest. The police nervously skirted around him, unsure of what to do. Jin Yi sat cross legged and shivering on the side of road away from the rest, bemoaning that today of all days he decided to wear a thin and casual getup.

He was plucking dead grass and contemplating how to get ahold of someone to come get him when raised voices caught his ear. A new cop was fighting with the others. They were motioning in his direction, obviously fighting about the safety of having a vampire near people with cuts and open blood. Jin Yi wanted to tell them that bloodlust didn’t work like that. There was no appeal in drinking from the sick or weak. But instead, he stood and stuffed his hands in his pockets, ready to walk along the freeway until he found somewhere with a phone.

The newcomer cop huffed and turned, marching towards Jin Yi with a blanket and a bottle of water. The other’s yelled something at the newcomer but he ignored them.

Jin Yi raised his hands, palms out, the universal gesture of backing down. “I’m just leaving, don’t worry.”

“No don’t leave. We need your statement. Here. I’m sorry they didn’t give you these sooner.” The newcomer cop handed over the blanket and bottle of water. Jin Yi took them, dumbfounded. This guy was a little gruff in his demeanor but hot hell was he easy on the eyes.

“I’m officer Zhang Xixi,”

Zhang Xixi. Jin Yi rolled the sound of his name around his head, waiting to be able to say it out loud. Zhang Xixi launched into a list of dry questions. Jin Yi took note of his features.

Jin Yi already had a thing for uniforms and Zhang Xixi fit in his well. It was tight in all the right places. He was about the same height as Jin Yi, maybe a touch taller, but more muscular. His hair was a reasonable cut and deep chestnut.

“Jin Yi?”

Oh, and his eyes were the most interesting hue, somewhere between sleight grey and silvery blue.

“I asked why you didn’t move out of the way. It looks like you were able to.”

“I didn’t see him coming.”

“You didn’t see the semi-truck barreling towards you?”

“I was thinking about sparklers.”

“Sparklers?”

“Yeah, how do they explode and spark in your hand, but it’s not too much?”

Zhang Xixi’s face betrayed nothing, just the same strait and even stare, but Jin Yi could feel a twinge of confusion and something else. Bemusement? Annoyance? Zhang Xixi looked back down at his notepad and scribbled something down.

“Any injuries?”

“Nope.”

“What’s that?” Zhang Xixi pointed with his pencil at Jin Yi’s abdomen. His once white t shirt was marked with blood from little cuts.

“Just some small cuts. I heal fast, they’re fine.” Zhang Xixi stared at Jin Yi for a moment, his emotions clearly signaling annoyance at something, although Jin Yi couldn’t figure out what he had done.

Zhang Xixi flipped his notepad closed and stuffed it in a pocket. “Follow me.”

They walked further away from the crowd and towards the clump of cop cars that was keeping traffic away from the accident.

Jin Yi wondered for a moment if he was being arrested for something, but he wasn’t handcuffed and Zhang Xixi’s emotions were at ease other than a slight perturbance at something.

Zhang Xixi unlocked what must have been his cruiser and opened the passenger side front door, reached in and grabbed something. A first aid kit.

“Sit down.”

Jin Yi made to sit where he was standing.

“No– in the car.” Zhang Xixi motioned towards the passenger side front seat. Jin Yi happily obliged. He sat with his feet planted on the concrete outside of the cruiser and obediently took his shirt off when Zhang Xixi ordered him too.

It had been a long time since anyone had taken care of Jin Yi this way. Zhang Xixi cleaned the cuts, working with precise purpose. This close, Jin Yi could fully smell his scent– an intoxicating mix he had no words for. But more than anything, Jin Yi enjoyed the emotions– or lack of emotions– rolling off the stoic cop. There was no fear. No suspicion. No disgust and no revulsion. Zhang Xixi’s emotions were just those of someone doing their job.

Jin Yi was smitten.

He couldn’t get the stoic cop out of his head. So, he did what he did best and snooped. He found out Zhang Xixi wasn’t just a cop, he was detective. And he hadn’t dated anyone seriously in long, long time.

There was a chance.  

He Tian, Jin Yi’s horrendous excuse for a best friend, bluntly told him not to bother.

“He’s a cop. Vampires and cops do not get along, Jin Yi. Also, you don’t know if he’s into men and also, you’re not a man. You’re a vampire. Fat chance anything will ever work out. You’re more likely to get yourself sent to jail than you are to land a date.”

Crushing reality aside, Jin Yi knew it was about the stupidest thing he could do. But, he did it anyways and called the detective to leave tips.

Then one day, Zhang Xixi called him. Jin Yi was over the moon, even if the call was just to see if he had any information in connection with a case.

They started meeting up and over the course of three agonizingly slow years, they became lovers.

It was more than Jin Yi could have dreamed of. But, he was greedy and he dreamed of more. He dreamed of endless days away from everything in a quaint town where nobody knew them and nobody cared that they were together. He looked over at Zhang Xixi and sighed.

A place like that doesn’t exist.

“What are you staring at?”

“You.”

Zhang Xixi pursed his lips, “You’ve seen it all before.”

Jin Yi opened his arms from where he was lying on the bed. Zhang Xixi finished pulling on a pair of sweatpants he had in his hand and crawled into Jin Yi’s arms. “I could look at you forever and still see new things I love about you.”

Zhang Xixi sat up and gazed into Jin Yi’s eyes, “That’s cheesy.”

“It’s true though,” Jin Yi laughed. He dragged his fingers along Zhang Xixi’s back, relishing in the comfort of his weight. “So you know why I want you to quit everything and hole up here with me. I’ll give you all the money you need, anything you want to occupy your time, and we could fall asleep together every night.”

Zhang Xixi’s warm breath tickled. He was thinking, Jin Yi could sense it as much from his body as from his emotions. “What we have now is good.”

“What we have now is tiring.”

“What we have now keeps both of us safe.”

“I don’t think it will much longer.” Jin Yi ran his fingers through Zhang Xix’s hair, reaching for his thoughts in the deep chestnut strands.

“Something has been brewing in the She family for awhile now. They’ve been keeping it quiet but eventually violence will break out, it always does. And when it does, I don’t want you to be there in the middle of it.”

Zhang Xixi planted a whisper of a kiss on Jin Yi’s cheek. “I’m a detective for the police force. I’m going to be right in the middle of whatever happens.”

Jin Yi groaned and clutched him tight. “At least tell me the damn updates you have.”

Zhang Xixi smiled, “It’s not much and it’s kind of odd. The more we learn about the murder victims, the weirder it gets. They were all nasty people with bad habits. A lot of the people on the team are starting think we have a serial killer on our hands who’s doling out vigilante justice. Something still just isn’t sitting right though. I think we’re missing something obvious but I just don’t know what.”

“Mm,” Jin Yi chewed his lip, “I don’t have anything helpful for you. Everything with She Li has been quiet since the Guan Shan framing incident was resolved. Guan Shan’s back at the Blue Crow– the bar has its grand reopening in a few days, He Tian’s going to throw a party. And I don’t tell you specifically about the illegal stuff I’m involved in, so that’s about it then. You make such a terrible cop.”

“I know.”

“Consorting with the enemy.”

“I know.”

Jin Yi was glad a semi truck had plowed through traffic and totaled his car all those years ago. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Even so, even with the words off his lips and Zhang Xixi in his arms, Jin Yi felt a foreboding, had felt it since the redhead had shown up. And he had a strong idea why.  

[grimchances]

YO YO YO GRIMMY D!!!!!!!!!

 There’s a long pause as he takes a sip from his tea, savoring it with movements almost painfully slow. A soft, rich aroma wafts about the air around him, his eyes closed and endlessly patient. As he finishes that gulp of tea, he lets out a soft sigh of approval and slowly lets his eyes flutter open. They don’t fall on the anon right away, but rather stare off into the distance at a window nearby. He’s contemplating, as evidenced by the slight rise of his bottom eyelid. The motion is subtle, but still noticeable. He wants it to be noticeable.

 Anon would find themself awakening some time after making their ill-advised comment. The surface they find themselves on is warm, soft, almost too comfortable. Surely it’s a bed, the blankets under them made of soft cream-colored silk that flows like cream over the gentle cherry red of the sheets below. It’s decadent, extraordinarily lavish and surely expensive. Even still, enamored by the rich sheets, the anon wouldn’t see the man in the corner of the room stand and slowly make his way over near their head.

It’s the soft clink of the fancy little cup being placed back on its saucer on the nightstand that would draw their attention. Standing over them, Grimsley glances down at them with icy blue eyes, so pale they’re nearly silvery white as the hair starting at either side of his head. The way he stares down at the anon is unsettling, some level of his patience having left him, though it’s very clear that the look on his face is absolutely intentional. Carefully controlling the way each muscle falls, he allows only the exact emotion he wants to play upon his almost fox-like features. To him, it’s an art.

“Here I was beginning to think you might never awaken” his tone is smooth with an air of dignity that almost feels ill-placed coming from a man who looks so tired, yet mildly… unhinged. He sounds a bit disappointed.

“You were out for nearly two hours. I honestly didn’t think I gave you that potent of a dose, but I guess I conveniently forgot to measure this time. Whoops~!” There’s a sinister playfulness behind the faint chuckle he lets pass from barely parted lips. The faintest chill falls about the room in at that moment as a breeze passes through the window. Curtains billowing and city sounds filling the air from down below, it catches the man’s attention.

He gives the faintest pause.

“Ah, that cool breeze off the ocean is lovely, isn’t it? I generally leave the windows open when I have the place to myself since I love the cool, but of course my current company doesn’t prefer it. Old codger. That’s alright, though. I won’t be in or enjoying his company after tonight. Hmhm, as much as I love the thrill of it, I’d rather be safe this time.” He rambles on,almost sounding as though he’s talking to himself. Slowly pacing over to the window, he tucks his hands behind his back. It’s almost as though the way he moves so slowly and punctually is intentional; as if he were biding his time and letting the tension build.

Something is very clearly not right. The anon can feel the tension in the air as it lingers even over the cool breeze and something about it makes their chest feel tight. Yes, something is definitely wrong, but between the faint sound of Grimsley’s footsteps on the floor and the sounds of the city below, it’s hard to place what it is. Finally, after what seems like an impossibly long time, he’s within reach of the window and slowly pulls it closed, taking extra time to latch each of the little locks on it.

“You know, I don’t get into moods like this very often. I’m generally a very laid back and relaxed man, or so I’d like to think. I can’t help but feel like you fell into the wrong place and the wrong time, little friend. Anything can happen… there’s always a chance. Seems today just wasn’t your lucky day, now was it?” He stalks back over, moving even slower than before.

The more anon struggles, the more they would realize they’re secured in place. Velvet ropes bind their wrists and ankles down to the corners of the bed and there’s a piece of the fabric tied tightly around their head to gag them. It serves to muffle any noises they could make. A necessary precaution, more than likely. Hovering around the bed not unlike a lampent awaiting the death of its prey, so Grimsley stalks back over to the other side of the room, eyes never leaving them.

Those eyes. There’s something about them that gives rise to the chilling feeling in the room and the tightness in Anon’s chest. They cut through them like the dagger he’s now brandishing in his hand, which was seemingly plucked from thin air as it appeared so suddenly. Twirling the shining silver blade between his fingers, he steps back over. Without warning, he brings the knife to one of the anon’s hands and presses the tip of the blade into their palm. Undoubtedly, the stinging sensation is overwhelming and they let out a muffled cry of pain into the moist velvet of the gag over their lips. So sweet, he lets the sound fill his ears.

“Listen to you” he purrs, head leaning back as he takes in the sight of them, “you’ve certainly changed your tune now, haven’t you?” His grin is wicked and sinister, pulling at either side of his face like the notorious smirk of a cheshire cat. Dark, intimidating… he doesn’t let up just yet, twisting the knife and driving it into the skin. Anon finds themself screaming into the gag, words of regret and misery trying to escape their velvet prison, but to no avail.

“Mmmh, I could drink in that sound like wine. Retribution is often just as sweet, too.” His expression seems unnaturally serene as he continues to twist and grind the blade into their hand. It’s satisfactory to see them squirm under his grasp and the sickening sensation of the blade slowly shredding through each piece of cartilage, tendon, and bone gives him eager chills. One by one, he hears the slick pop of metacarpals being torn from their place and split down the center. Something about it, for him, is cathartic. The anon wouldn’t find themself in any such position of relief, the pain completely unbearable like fire ripping up through their veins and twisting and burning every nerve.

Retrieving the knife, he glances down at the trails of red slowly rolling down off the blade, almost like it’s tempting him. The thrill of it all has his heart pounding with adrenaline, a sensation he wasn’t even sure he could still experience anymore. Slowly, he draws the blade up to his tongue, tasting the metallic blood as it stains his tongue and lips red. It’s an intimidating sight, his icy eyes falling on their face again, drinking in their anguish and savoring the flavor of it like the taste of the blood on his lips.

“Now, now… don’t go making too much noise. I know I gagged you and closed the window, but I still don’t want people thinking anything’s amiss.” With that, he lowers the blade down to their neck, letting the cool metal trail along the hot skin. Lining up the knife with the underside of their chin, he rests the tip of the blade against where the hard bone turns to soft flesh and starts to apply pressure. A gentle sting greets them in response and they try to pull their head away, but they only pin themself between the blade and the bed. Creeping back upon them, the faint sting grows in intensity as the blade starts to carve into the delicate skin. At first, it pushes up into the elastic flesh with only the faintest pinpricks of red as only the tip of the blade tears in. Shortly after, the pain radiates up into the anon’s skull as the nerves are rent by the knife being driven up through their bottom jaw, the tip now resting on the underside of their tongue as the familiar metallic taste of blood fills their mouth. Screaming and gagging on the warm, viscous flow of red now filling their throat, they try to spit it out, filling the velvet over their mouth with it. It drips down their chin and throat and the sight of it, along with their wide, teary eyes makes Grimsley tremble.

Withdrawing the blade from the underside of their jaw, he drags it down their skin again, this time no longer so cold. A thin trail of blood and saliva follows it along the gentle folds of the soft flesh on their neck. Something about the way the blood and spit mixes and leaves strands behind feels like art to him. He loses himself in it even for just a moment, forgetting the atrocious acts he’s committing.

“Some…” he hesitates, “…part of me finds this appalling. I know that I can be harsh at times and cruel at others, but I never really fancied myself someone so keen on torture.” His words are slow, but precise, almost like the rhythm of a waltz. There’s an obvious sense of pride drizzled over each and every one, all of them woven together into sentences like strands of silk and lace. Eyes lowering from meeting the anon’s gaze, they fall on the knife again. Stained. Not wanting to wipe the blood on his own clothes, or on the expensive sheets on the bed, he reaches over to dry it on the fabric of the anon’s shirt, pinching it together on either side and pulling the blade clean through. The action leaves a small hole in the shirt, but is sufficient at cleaning off the blood. He doesn’t seem concerned about the damage to their clothing.

“Don’t worry. It won’t last forever. After all, I’m a man of my word.” The tone of his voice carries an ominous and threatening ring, eyes fixed intently on theirs. What does it mean? What is he saying? As if to answer the question, in one swift and fluid motion, the knife is brought up under the bottom of the anon’s shirt, rending it up to the chest in what feels like the blink of an eye, though the drugs in their system could still be playing a part. With the sudden change in pace, things start to move quicker and there’s no time to react. As soon as their shirt is rent, the knife is skillfully placed against the anon’s abdomen and carves in. The cuts aren’t deep and don’t break into their guts, but the motions are quick like writing with a pen… which is coincidentally how he holds the blade. Despite the stinging and burning pain, it’s almost entertaining to watch him twirl and twist the knife this way and that as he carves his mark into their tender flesh. He’s focused, eyes wild and intently following the path of the blade. Of course, the squirming throws him off, but with his other hand pressing into their hip and pinning them down, he’s able to finish his work.

Beaming, he pulls the knife back and twirls it between his fingers. He’s pleased with himself, lifting a finger to collect a tiny sample of their blood and bring it to his lips. Tongue curling around the digit, he laps up the sweet redness and finds his eyes meeting theirs again. If there’s one thing he does well, it’s read people and the anon, despite what they thought was a clever disguise, is no exception to his talents. Pain, fear, regret. All such sweet emotions that he takes a moment to savor them as he does the blood on his tongue. It’s almost too decadent for words.

Of course, now that he’s panting softly and gazing down into their eyes with his own no longer seeing reality, he goes back to his soft, deliberate pace and motions. Turning the knife down, he holds it with only his fingertips. It seems like an inefficient way to hold a knife, but something about the way he does it lends itself to it being intentional. Digging the blade into the flesh, he rends from their chest up to their collarbones, not minding anything in his way that isn’t the red of their blood blossoming forth from the wound he’s created. The way it flows is so enticing that he can’t help but stop and watch it. Little individual beads of red forming and growing along a straight, red line. Soon the beads grow too heavy to rest atop the sea of red and they roll down the skin to the anon’s sides. More than likely, they’re beginning to lose consciousness and Grimsley’s silhouette fades from their vision.

It’s all over, now.

…Or at least, it would be if he didn’t have a few other tricks up his sleeve. The anon would find themself awakening under a vastly different light than before. The same stinging pain rockets through their body as soon as they become aware that they even have one again. It’s unbearable, taking all they have and even something they didn’t know they had to keep from fading from the world of the living again. They’ve lost a lot of blood, but as they look up at the bright, fluorescent bathroom light above them, a shadow forms in their view, the shape of a familiar hairstyle barely standing out against the sea of white light.

“You didn’t think you were just going to pass out on me and miss the best part, did you?” His voice is barely audible over the ringing in their ears and the roaring of their heart as it feels like it’s about to beat out of their chest. Anticipation is now racing through their veins with the adrenaline and whatever drug it was that he injected them with, the syringe still in his hand.

“You seem excited” he notes, turning the syringe so the needle points downward and his thumb rests at the top. Why would he turn it around like that? What was he planning to–

Before that thought can process, he interrupts to speak. 

“Here, let me give you a little more to make sure you’re plenty awake, hm~?” With that, he immediately drives the syringe down, the needle puncturing and then rending through the anon’s left eye. The pain is unimaginable, sensations their body is capable of giving no longer living up to the agony. It isn’t the pain that’s even the worst part, so much as the other sounds and sensations that accompany it. The rough pop of the sharp edge splitting through the dense, moist membrane of the eyeball is enough to make their body reflexively gag and retch, hands trying to reach for their stomach. Of course, their hands are tied at their sides and unable to move. Screaming into the blood-filled gag, they can feel themself falling unconscious again, but something won’t let them fade away quietly. No.

“Just a bit more, now.” His voice is barely intelligible above their screaming and the other sensations racking their system. It’s total sensory overload and they feel like they’re going to pass out again when a cool, sterile smell fills their nose and leaves a numbing cold inside their head. He’s emptying the syringe into their skull. He doesn’t seem to care what effects it may bring, the only part of his face that’s visible being a wide, unnerving grin.

“I didn’t think myself capable of something like this” he’s chuckling faintly, eyes faltering and lips hesitating around the words forming between them. “I warned you! Stupid anon, I warned you not to test me! I should have known someone would push their luck. Tch.” Lashing out again, he draws back the syringe from inside their skull, blood following it in an elegant red trail as it leaves behind a gaping hole. The anon tries to blink some of the blood and pain away, a sea of red rolling down their cheek and chin, but before they can open it again, the needle is brought back down, puncturing their eyelid with ease. Now the lid is pushed down into the oozing wound, tender skin tearing along the crease like a seam. It’s quick, happening in seconds. With each word, he draws out the syringe and plunges it back in again and again.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” He screams at them, tossing the syringe aside and drawing out his knife again. Even through the drugs and pain blurring their vision, in the bright light of the bathroom he can be seen pulling the knife from the inside of his tunic collar, just under his scarf. They may know the source of his tricks now, but it’s a secret the anon will take with them to their grave. They’re slipping from consciousness as he kneels over them with the knife blade aiming down. They can only close their remaining eye in anticipation of the events that are soon to bring their inevitable demise.

Driving the knife down into their chest, he jams the blade in as deep as it goes. With very little time to react or pause, the twists it to the side, blade scraping against the inside of their ribcage. With another quick twist the other way, he withdraws the knife again, then plunges is back down again. Stab after stab after stab, he continues to drive the knife in with the force of his whole body. It’s such a release, taking absolutely everything in him not to laugh or cry just from the relief alone.

“I’m. Going. To. Leave. You. For. The. Old. Fucker. And. When. He. Finds. You. You. Won’t. Be. My. Problem. Any. More. Now. Just. Shut. Up. And. DIE. Already!” Each word brings another stab somewhere on the anon’s body, first the chest, but then a few clip the neck, one hits low into the diaphragm, and a few go high striking their face. He stabs and stabs and stabs until their body is entirely still, silent, and lifeless.

Having calmed from his earlier rage, GrimDark sits in the chair in the corner of the room, sipping his tea. His eyes are fixed on the patterns on the wallpaper that faintly resemble a golden victorian filigree as he sits wearing the old man’s clothes. A pair of expensive khaki pants that hang loosely on his skinny frame and a baggy white button-up shirt, his hair tucked up under a black flat cap. He looks stylish, sure, but he can’t wear his own clothes until he gives them a wash. He figures all that red would clash with his eyes… and likely draw unwanted attention.

He knows he should leave immediately and never look back, but no matter how many times he tries to reason with himself to get up out of the chair, he stays seated. At first, he makes up excuses. He has to finish his tea, after all, but the longer he waits the more it becomes apparent to him that it’s so much more than that. It’s another thrill. The excitement of knowing that the man he’s staying with could come in at any second makes him squirm with anticipation in the chair. Hadn’t he said he was going to be safe this time? Safety isn’t a word that fits into the vocabulary of someone with ‘Danger’ as their middle name.

He’s pulled from his thoughts at the sound of a key card being inserted into the door and the soft little beep of the lock mechanism popping open. The man who walks in is handsome in his old age, deeply set green eyes twinkling as he lets them rest on his roommate. “I’d complain about you wearing my clothes, but they seem to suit you.” His voice is stern, but warm like the black coffee on his breath. Even the bitter taste doesn’t keep Grimsley from standing and capturing him in a kiss. It’s deep and intense and the men can’t help but let their hands explore and grip at each other’s bodies. Pulling back slowly, their eyes meet under the dim light from the chandelier above.

Before the older man can ask what the occasion is, Grimsley is already scooping up his things and heading out the door. There’s a moment’s pause as the man realizes that he’s leaving, but then he pursues, going after him.

“Wait, where are you going? My prince, come back! Aren’t you going to go to dinner with me? I made plans, and– Come on!” He calls out after him, chasing him all the way to the end of the hall. He calls the elevator, but before the door can close, the man wedges his foot into it and steps inside, cornering him. It’s frightening, but the thrill only spurs him on, Grimsley’s grip on his bag tightening as he watches the other man corner him and pin him against the wall. Another rough kiss follows, one he doesn’t initiate. It’s warm and dangerous and the feeling leaves him craving more. Curling his hands into the man’s hair, he wraps a leg around the back of his knee. The two men are still tangled together when the elevator doors open again on the main floor. People stare, but still file into the elevator, trying to look anywhere but the two of them. This is his chance to escape.

As the people file in, he slips out of the older man’s grasp and puts some of the people of the crowd between the two of them. With one last intense flash of his bright blue eyes, Grimsley makes eye contact one last time before filing out of the elevator and leaving the older man stuck behind the people. As the doors start to close again, he blows a little kiss with a wink, then turns and starts out of the hotel through the main lobby. He moves quickly, taking his cloak from his bag and slipping it on over the other’s clothes. With it, he blends effortlessly into the shadows of the city night outside and disappears into the darkness, never to be seen again.

Time to leave this world behind.

[artificialqueens]

Star Power Over Me - Part One (Vixie/Trixya) - Pilandok

AN: A Vixie and Trixya love triangle, maybe three chapters long? There’s an endgame there somewhere. Light angst? I don’t know, they’re grown adults and don’t really think like angsty teenagers anymore, I guess. Also, about the smut, I don’t write smut but it’s important to the plot so I kinda just movie-glazed over it, sorry. Thank you for reading.

Trixie Mattel has made a shining example of how to get the most out of the spiritually-exhausting, completely unhinged, over-produced reality show of the one and only, larger-than-life RuPaul Andre Charles. So he’s not crazy, he swears, when he spotted the goddess herself sending him a proud smile from the third row of the audience in Peaches Christ’s stage show starring him and Katya. He made it, he was thinking then, lip-syncing Waterloo in  full clown makeup, cinched dramatically and padded for days. He made a comeback in All-Stars 3 and had just finished filming for their TV show on Viceland, and now there was RuPaul smiling, laughing, applauding at him, living for his comedic timing and ad-libs. Trixie was glowing because knew he worked hard for it; he was one of those queens who knew to work hard immediately after getting kicked off. He couldn’t have been a fan-favorite forever by just being himself, he isn’t warm or charming or the right kind of self-depreciating. He worked hard  laughing through the pain and embarrassment of getting kicked off twice, worked hard in Provincetown performing five nights a week sleeping on a cot on the floor, and worked hard for his merchandise to sell. The meticulous planning, scheduling, and insane work hours was all worth it, he thought, and quite telling of his Virgo nature.

What he never expected to happen, though, was to end up as one-half of one of the biggest couple in Drag Race herstory. Trixie didn’t even consider it beforehand, despite what people might think, but it worked in his favor so well that he almost wishes that he thought of it himself. Trixie and Katya. Everyone loved them and ate them up. Their chemistry was electric, and they were both having fun with it, he didn’t even mind that it was obviously Katya who was the more likeable of the two. Trixie enjoyed that they’ve been made into a package: getting booked to the same gigs, being given the same opportunities, their names incomplete without the other.  Suddenly, somehow, they were the next big bankable thing after Shalaska.

But then Trixie found himself in a situation that all these fangirls saw from a mile away: he fell in love with his best friend. He was a romantic but he fell in love with that chain-smoking, slow-splitting, Russian-accented addict anyway. He was a romantic and Katya doesn’t even believe in love and thinks that all relationship problems can be traced back to the problematic concept of monogamy. Trixie fell in love anyway—and it’s probably cause he is a romantic. It was a painfully unrequited love but one that he has been oddly at peace with, having learned to enjoy Katya’s unbridled affection while playing his part as the rational half of the two. But sometimes, like when he drinks, his mind creates problems for himself, wondering about the lasting effects of keeping his feelings at bay on his mental health and if when the bubble of their partnership bursts, it would be his feelings that were going to be at fault. That’s why he shouldn’t drink.. cause he- he- creates the problems in his head and he–

“Damn bitch, oh my god” Violet interrupts him, having just been the recipient of  the slurred, rambling version of everything stated above, “I knew you were a talker but you just keep droning on and on, shut the fuck up.”

Trixie smiles, a wide grin showing all his teeth, his glassy eyes revealing just how buzzed he truly is. He and Violet Chachki are on the floor of Trixie’s hotel room, a bottle of whisky between them, most of which has been consumed by Trixie. He pouts and raises a finger accusingly at Violet, “Bitch, I know you only invited me to drink just so you can finally get in my pants.” Violet laughs and doesn’t deny the charge. Trixie raises the bottle directly in front of Violet and smiles his full smile again, “your fans are great, by the way,” he says, slurring all his Rs.

“You know it, cunt,” Violet replies, laughing at his companion. Despite the rambling, Trixie is a fun drunk. He doesn’t think about the weight of the things Trixie has said or its implications because they were both laughing through it all. “I’ve slept with Katya,” Violet remarks casually, “it wasn’t that big of a  deal.”

“AHHHHH you cunt!” Trixie screams out laughing and slaps Violet’s knee, “I’m not a slut like you! It’s love, I’m in love!”

“Oh shut up you cheesy whore,” Violet is laughing too. He moves closer to Trixie who was sitting cross legged in front of him, he watches as Trixie leans back to rest his weight on his arms. He tilts his head up, still having that smile on his face, he seems to be staring at something on the ceiling or at nothing at all. “You know, I may be trying to get you to fuck me but all this sappy babble is making me reconsider if the effort is worth the reward. I don’t know if sitting through this pity party is any good for my sanity.”

“What’s your verdiiict?”Trixie drawls. He looks at Violet with the same grin that Violet is starting to think is flirtatious.

“Depends, is it working?” He flashes a grin of his own.

“You know me,” Trixie winks “I’m a sssucker for any gentleman who listens to my issues.”

“Ugh. You’re so problematic.” Violet rolls his eyes but finds himself strangely charmed by Trixie. Or Brian. It used to be that Trixie liked to keep those two entities separate, with their own distinct paths in their art. Somehow, however, Brian found a way to be seen by the public, sneaking himself out through Trixie’s guitar, through his lyrics, and through the slight tremble in his voice when he sings that one song. Suddenly, Trixie and Brian were existing simultaneously on stage. He’s more comfortable now, too, in switching between the two characters, and it’s starting to feel less and less like two characters. Violet thinks he’s attracted to where Trixie and Brian overlap. He pulls his knees to his chest and rests his head on his knees, he sighs dramatically at Trixie, “okay, whatever, spill your guts out.”

Trixie looks at Violet and for some reason thinks him to be very cute at that moment. Like how Trixie thought his best friend from high school was very cute; it wasn’t very deep but it was fun, and he’s been having fun with Violet. Getting lost in his thoughts, he bites his lip and stares at the boy in front of him. He sees Violet raise his eyebrows at him and he feels compelled, suddenly, to give him a quick chaste kiss on the lips. He does, and stumbling slightly when he reaches over, he misses by a centimeter.

Violet laughs, “You weirdo!” but he leans in and gives Trixie a proper kiss in return. Trixie gives him a starry-eyed smile when they pull away. Violet murmurs, “you’re so fucking cheesy.” They both laugh and start passing the bottle between them again.

A couple of hour pass and Trixie is kissing Violet again, harder this time, more purposefully. Violet’s tongue slides into his mouth, hot and tasting of alcohol. Trixie thinks that he likes how it feels and leads them to the to the edge of the bed. They don’t have time to discuss matters such as who was the top and who was the bottom in the midst of this turn of events, and they are both obviously solid bottoms, but Violet couldn’t help it and pushes Trixie onto the bed and kisses him hard against the mattress. He doesn’t know what possesses him to want to leave bruises on Trixie’s neck but he sucks on the skin above Trixie’s collarbone and sinks his teeth lightly on the flesh. When he pulls back to check his work, Trixie was looking very shy but very much turned on. Violet wonders why tonight Trixie was being so fucking adorable.

“Words I’d never thought I would hear from Violet Chachki’s mouth,” Trixie breathed, face flushed and hips grinding almost involuntarily.

“Shut up,” Violet said roughly but then he’s laughing again. In a few minutes Violet is kneeling on the bed, hovering over Trixie and their underwear has long been discarded. Violet is as hard as a rock. The humor disappears because he realizes is he really going to top Trixie Mattel? The boy is drunk and has just confessed his love for Katya, a close friend to them both. Conscience, an old friend that has never once visited him in the bedroom is there at that moment, whispering in his ear. He pauses, doubt filling his mind about the mental gymnastics he’s  performed to frame this situation as something that was okay. Trixie seems to have noticed this and pulls on Violet’s arm to bring his face close, he kisses him slowly.

“Hey, it’s okay, I want this,” he tells Violet quietly as if his knees pressed up against his chest and his dick hard against Violet’s wasn’t already saying the same thing. Then, in a needy voice, “fuck me.”

                 Violet groans as he snaps himself out of his thoughts and coats his dick with the lube his fans gave him during the show. He spares a moment to think about how he does have the best fans ever. He finally thrusts himself inside Trixie and despite his initial coaxing, Trixie lets out a sharp gasp in surprise.

                 “Fuck,” Violet moans, his voice strained in a way that makes Trixie worry that he was going to stop. Violet shows no signs of slowing down but Trixie snakes his arms around his neck anyway and pulls him in for another wet kiss.

                 “Yeah, fuck fuck fuck, yes please,” Trixie continuously moans into Violet’s mouth until they both reach climax. They collapse onto the bed right after, breathing heavily on top of each other.

                 Violet thinks for a second about returning to his own hotel room which was a couple of doors down the hall. He can’t think of what else he would do in the room since he has essentially achieved his goal, although he hates to put it in that way. Trixie, however, was already pulling him into his arms.

                 “Come on, this is my favorite part,” Trixie says, half-yawning. His eyes are already closed.

                 “Gross, you’re so sappy,” Violet replies but he was settling in nonetheless. He finishes making himself comfortable and sees that Trixie has already fallen asleep. Violet rests his head on Trixie’s chest and idly thinks about his next show. His scheduled flight the next day isn’t until later in the afternoon and he wonders when Trixie’s flight was going to be because he wants to stay in. Violet doesn’t ponder about that odd thought. He feels a slight rumble come from his sleeping friend and instinctively grabs his phone from the bedside table and aims the camera at Trixie. He was deliberating on a good caption—maybe,  Adult Barbie now comes with vibrating function. He is smiling at the footage he just took and realizes that it might not be such a good idea to broadcast this out to the public with Trixie looking a little freshly fucked. He feels an urge still, however, to tell someone about this, to report this new inconsequential information that he discovered of Trixie Mattel. Katya and Pearl are the first ones to come into mind but that was obviously out of the question, the former especially—Violet also thinks, bitterly, that maybe those two would already know about Trixie’s sleeping habits. He watches the video a few more times, thinking of who would appreciate this breakthrough. He gives up, shoving the phone under the pillow, but not before typing Trixie Mattel snores when he sleeps and saving it as a note on his phone. He settles himself in bed with his back against Trixie and reaches behind him and tugs Trixie’s arm around him. Trixie groans lightly but wraps his arms around Violet’s frame. After a minute, he’s snoring again. Violet closes his eyes and lets the low droning lull him to sleep.

[scarffile0-blog]

Stephen Markley's Playlist for His Novel "Ohio"

« older | Main Largehearted Boy Page | newer »

Stephen Markley's Playlist for His Novel "Ohio"

In the Book Notes series, authors create and discuss a music playlist that relates in some way to their recently published book.

Previous contributors include Jesmyn Ward, Lauren Groff, Bret Easton Ellis, Celeste Ng, T.C. Boyle, Dana Spiotta, Amy Bloom, Aimee Bender, Heidi Julavits, Hari Kunzru, and many others.

Stephen Markley's novel Ohio is a powerful and timely debut.

NPR Books wrote of the book:

"Ohio isn't just a remarkable debut novel, it's a wild, angry and devastating masterpiece of a book. Markley's debut is a sprawling, beautiful novel that explores the aftermath of the Great Recession and the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, and a powerful look at the tenuous bonds that hold people together at their best and at their worst. [Ohio] is intricately constructed, with gorgeous, fiery writing that pulls the reader in and never lets go."

In his own words, here is Stephen Markley's Book Notes music playlist for his debut novel Ohio:

If I had to accuse myself of something it would be scattershot musical tastes over the course of a scattershot life. I forget how I encounter any given song or artist other than generally standing mid-stream of pop culture and trying to occasionally wade over to the fringes; I'm now almost always at the mercy of Spotify's algorithms because I don't take the time to seek anything out; I still have my entire massive book of CDs from high school, which is mostly 90s rap (Drag-On's Opposite of H20 anyone?). I can't really recall what I was listening to while writing the novel Ohio, but here's a list of what seems to have crept through my subconscious, possibly eking into the text in unexpected ways.

"The Stable Song" Gregory Alan Isakov

I've occasionally described Ohio as a ghost story where the ghost never appears (a designation I'm pretty sure I stole from Stephen King), but the novel is about being haunted--by people you've lost, decisions you've made, friendships you've forsaken. The characters each return to their hometown on the same night, and they all have on their minds and in their hearts something they've lost. This song, for me, always captured the essence of what I was trying to bring to the page, a sense of having drifted your whole life, but also having never truly left this one person, place, or moment.

"All Things To All Men" The Cinematic Orchestra, Roots Manuva

I stumbled across this due to the aforementioned Spotify algorithm, and I always pictured one character in particular, Bill Ashcraft, this drug-addled, alcoholic political activist cruising along to this song as he trips out of his head on LSD. It's a long, dense song that makes you feel like you're stumbling down a street corner at night, half-drunk, but with sudden vivid insight into the absurd joke of the political, social, and economic quagmire that is the American experience.

"Same Drugs" Chance the Rapper

I've heard people accuse this song of being schmaltzy, but if that's the case I gladly embrace it. I taught this to my students when we did a class on narratives in pop music because it's such a lovely, compressed, and efficient story about growing past another person and the nostalgia you feel for the bond that once existed between you. It has these little whimsical phrases evoking Peter Pan: "You must have lost your marbles"; "when did you start to forget how to fly"; "don't forget the happy thoughts;" "When everything we read was real and everything we said rhymed." It casts this whimsical note over our collective substance abuse, that you can only ever make it with someone if your tastes in self-medication align, and once that moment passes it can change everything between two people.

"Carry Me Ohio" Mark Kozelek

This one for obvious reasons, plus it namechecks rivers and landmarks I'm all too aware of from growing up in the area. Actually, I went through a number of titles for the novel before settling on simplicity for simplicity's sake, but this song sort of wakes you up to the poetry of that single word. It has something to do with the way your mouth moves when you say it, your lips going vertical, horizontal, vertical in rapid succession, and each sound is its own lost spirit.

"Darkness On the Edge of Town" Bruce Springsteen

A young woman once said to me, "I don't believe anyone can truly be a bad person if they love Bruce." That seems extreme, but I've never seen it proved wrong. People who only know Bruce from the big hits are missing a religious conversion in their lives. It's his darker stuff I've always been drawn to, and as a teenager dealing with the death of one of my closest friends, I found the most surprising respite in his music, which I basically listened to nonstop from 2000 until 2005. I love that he's this short story writer in a rock star's body and so many people across so many different classes, age groups, races, genders, and life paths see themselves in the tales dreamed up by this ratty-bearded kid from industrial New Jersey. "Darkness" was the first song of his I heard that made me sit up like, "What in the fuck is this?" Like many of Springsteen narrators, the guy in the song is wandering through his place in post-industrial America. He's keeping secrets, he's lost the woman he loves through some fault of his own, he remains defiant. Just play this and "Promised Land" at my funeral, please.

"All That You Have Is Your Soul" Tracy Chapman

During the gestation period of this novel I was hanging out with a young woman in my apartment and this song came on. She said something like, "Were you also a teenage girl crying with her friends at sleepaway camp in the early Nineties?" All I know is that as a guy trying to start for his high school basketball team in rural Ohio, I had to keep somewhat secret my abject love for Tracy Chapman and her brazenly unironic, head-melting tunes on justice, race, love, and loss. When writing the character of Stacey Moore, I had Chapman and that young woman in mind, because that night she said something else I really liked: "Sure, all you have is your soul, but we should all take at least a little bite of that shiny apple every now and then."

"Shelter From the Storm" Bob Dylan

This song has been sort of wrecked by its overuse as an anthem of the Baby Boomers' (see Cameron Crowe stuffing it into the end of Jerry McGuire), but Dylan remains, IMHO, simply one of the most mesmerizing writers of the Twentieth Century. I laughed and laughed at the literary world's hand-wringing after his Nobel win, and I laughed twice as hard when he plagiarized parts of his Nobel acceptance speech from Cliff's Notes, but it was nevertheless one of the most beautiful explications of what the journey of art, of literature, of creation actually feels like in the most tactile, heart-rending sense. Dylan is this utterly irascible, trickster figure, who will always defy and mystify his fans and critics. "Shelter From the Storm" describes the ramble we're all one, this bizarre, unhinged journey that never ends where you think it will, and maybe the one or two or seven people you meet along the way who are like, "All right, get in here. We'll make love and then go throw rocks at the trains passing in the night."

"Chonkyfire" Outkast

This is the final song on Aquemini, and it probably wouldn't make the top fifty in most fans' estimation of Outkast songs, but there's something inexplicable about the sound it creates. It's epic, it's full-throated, it's apocalyptic. My affinity for Nineties hip-hop mostly rests on the fact that that was the age I discovered this wild, uninhibited act of rebellion in musical form. I tended more towards the political or the lyrically interesting, but discovering Outkast, particularly Aquemini with Rosa Parks, SpottieOttieDopaliscious, and this final mind-blowing track--it felt like Indiana Jones figuring out the Grail was just these two guys from Atlanta.

"I Do My Father's Drugs" Joe Pug

Joe Pug's music served as something of a basis for the career of the character Ben Harrington, and I think he's one of the most underrated singer-songwriters alive. "My Father's Drugs" is one of his masterpieces, and though careful readers may be questioning my affinity for songs about drugs, this is really more about the cyclical nature of generations attempting to upend the status quo, of trying and failing, desperately, to change the conditions that have isolated, weakened, and demoralized us. It reminds me of protesting Dick Cheney's appearance at a Cleveland church in 2004.

"City of Refuge" Abigail Washburn

Abigail Washburn is one of those musicians you're almost afraid to tell anyone about because you want to selfishly hoard her honey and cigarettes voice for yourself. I don't even recall how I stumbled across 2011's City of Refuge, but it's one of my favorite albums of the decade. The title song and "Last Train" in particular always call to mind, for whatever reason, all the errant, directionless wandering of my mid-twenties, and that wanderlust definitely found its place within several characters of the novel.

"Youngstown" Bruce Springsteen

The original version on The Ghost of Tom Joad is, without a doubt, a masterpiece, but you really haven't heard "Youngstown" until you've heard him perform it live, say in Cleveland, Ohio, circa 2004 (same weekend as when I went to protest Cheney; sometimes the stars just align). When it's born into the world as a true rock song, it has a power and anger that the album version doesn't. It's not just that it's a story set in my corner of the world or that it so bitterly and accurately describes the sense of having the floorboards of your life and livelihood ripped out from beneath you a plank at a time by powers you don't control and men you'll never meet, but it bears a truly radical message. The narrator sings, "My daddy come on the Ohio Works when he come home from World War II/ Now the yard's just scrap and rubble/ He said, 'Them big boys did what Hitler couldn't do.'" I mean, Jesus Christ, talk about taking a full swing at the skull of the neoliberal order. What I love most about the song is its scope, traversing the history of a place from 1803 to the modern moment, watching the smokestacks rise and billow and then go clear. You can smell the coke and limestone, you can feel the rain coming down as the characters wander the scrapyard. It's a remarkable piece of literature and speaks to a universal story of exploitation that keeps repeating itself over and over again. How the story's always the same. It was that sense of history and fury and defiance that I always wanted to imbue this book with.

"Elevation" Hildur Guonadottir

The first civilian I gave the book to (someone outside of the long editorial process) claimed she read it in three days and was listening to this song as she blew through the final pages. It produced, she said, a pretty fantastic effect. Once I listened to the song, I honestly couldn't agree with her more. Very spooky.

Stephen Markley and Ohio links:

the author's website

Minneapolis Star Tribune review NPR Books review Wall Street Journal review Washington Post review

Ohio Magazine interview with the author Publishers Weekly profile of the author

also at Largehearted Boy:

Support the Largehearted Boy website

Book Notes (2015 - ) (authors create music playlists for their book) Book Notes (2012 - 2014) (authors create music playlists for their book) Book Notes (2005 - 2011) (authors create music playlists for their book) my 11 favorite Book Notes playlist essays

Antiheroines (interviews with up and coming female comics artists) Atomic Books Comics Preview (weekly comics highlights) guest book reviews Librairie Drawn & Quarterly Books of the Week (recommended new books, magazines, and comics) musician/author interviews Note Books (musicians discuss literature) Short Cuts (writers pair a song with their short story or essay) Shorties (daily music, literature, and pop culture links) Soundtracked (composers and directors discuss their film's soundtracks) weekly music release lists

permalink

Source: http://www.largeheartedboy.com/blog/archive/2018/09/stephen_markley.html

[idealisticrealism]

Blindspot 2x10 recap

(Aka the one where Patterson suffers more than she ever deserves to, and the team begrudgingly adopts Roman)

So, here I am, back by... well, vague demand... to provide you guys with another overly long and rambly recap. It seems that, regardless of what this show does, I will inevitably have a lot of thoughts and opinions about it-- and surprisingly there's some of you who are actually willing to suffer through reading them haha.

So I hope everyone had a nice hiatus/holiday period, and here goes. 

Okay. Shit. I have to say that this show totally got me here with the whole Borden vs Patterson pistol duel. I was convinced that Borden would be the one who was shot, because who the hell would dare harm our precious Patterson?? The writers, apparently. (Sadists, the lot of them). Also to Borden's credit, he does sound genuinely horrified when he realises he’s shot her, and I do really still believe that he truly cared about her. But sigh, way to sink my ship, show. And then ugh my lil baby slumping against the wall and being all “don’t touch me!” and ugh this is the worsstttt

Ok where did Jane spring this fancy-ass car from? Isn't the usual method to go for something old and nondescript that can be hot-wired, rather than something that probably has like inbuilt GPS or something? But ugh anyway poor Roman looks like a freaking mess. But come on, Jane, bringing him in on your own is a terrible idea. The moment he wakes he'll be like a frightened and cornered animal and just lash out. Aaaaand yep, there he goes, with the head-smashing and the almost-shooting. And then he literally goes, tossing himself out of the car. That was kinda cool, tbh. But sigh, Jane honey, mistrust is practically a part of his DNA, of course he's gonna flip out rn. I feel so sad for her though, she's literally always just trying to help and yet only ends up getting beaten and battered because of it (either physically or emotionally) and then abandoned. Ughhhhhh. 

Naw Readey baby. I'm so glad you're okay. And apparently enjoying the morphine buzz lol. And aww Zapata has been there watching over him and ugh this friendship is everything

Interesting that when Nas recaps the mission and the explosion to Weller, she doesn't mention that Reade suggested aborting when they lost a cell signal and she was the one decided to press on. Honestly rn I can't tell if her guilt over the dead agents is genuine or she's more upset that Shepherd both outsmarted her and got away. But of course Weller reassures her, because he supports his team no matter what. I just wish he hadn't placed his loyalty in her. Also I know Archie is a fantastic actress but I literally cannot stand the slow, pausing, breathy way she makes Nas speak. It just sounds so stilted and makes it difficult to actually focus on the scene. But I'm sure gonna try and focus because Weller has finally pulled his head out of his butt and is actually making protecting Jane a priority. (Hallelujah). Then he tells Nas they need to find her and she's all "I'm not hopeful"-- and yeah, I bet you're not, lady. You're probably hoping Jane DID die, so there's no one around to stop you manipulating Weller. But ugh the tears in Weller's voice... finally, boy, you're realising just how much you cannot lose Jane. And just bc I’m feeling magnanimous, here's a hint for that thick skull-- it's because you LOVE her, you idiot. Gawd. Anyway, Zapata is once again being cast in to the role of Team Anti-Jane, which is kinda freaking repetitive and annoying, but hey, the writers need to put other characters in opposition to Jane just to make Weller's support of her stand out all the stronger, making us ~love how he fights for her~ so we forget all the times this season he was a complete ass towards her. Like don't get me wrong, I love Jeller, and I actually also look forward to the moment that Zapata and Jane come through this with an even stronger friendship, because that's undoubtedly (or at least hopefully) what this is eventually leading to. But sigh, even though I can somewhat justify Zapata's behaviour as a result of her fear and trauma over the explosion and Reade's injury, I just wish her attitude towards Jane could be a little more nuanced and complex than the current GRRRR JANE'S THE VILLAIN HERE GRRRRR. And Nas doesn't bloody help by planting the suggestion that if Jane returns, it could just be to continue spying on them. Thanks, devil-lady. Next time I'll ask if I want your input. But aaaaaaaanyway, I'm gonna move on from that and instead cry a lil bit over "Jane was-- Jane is loyal." Oh, son. Took you long enough, you giant idiot. She just had to almost die for you to get there. And then ugh next thing we know Jane's being dragged into the bullpen and ughhhhhh "Please I just need to see if they're okay" aND UGH SHE LOVES THIS TEAM SO MUCH IT HURTS ME, she loves them even despite how poorly they've treated her lately (yes, they had ~some~ reasons, but seriously). And then ughhhhh Weller is charging over there like an enraged bull and I love that for a moment Jane doesn't know if he's angry at the guards or her but then he demands the cuffs to be taken off her and ughhhh she has a second of relief before she's apologizing over and over and desperately telling him that she didn't know-- bc lbr, from her past experience she would totally expect to be blamed for this, and she's not wrong (lookin' at you, Zapata and Nas). And then Weller PULLS HER IN FOR A HUG and she's all ??????? because whaaaat? Affection and reassurance?? What are these strange things?? But ugh the way her eyes close and she sinks into him for a second ughhhh I JUST WANT JANE TO FEEL SAFE AND LOVED AT ALL TIMES PLEASE. THIS IS ALL I WANT. But lol he tells her that they understand and there's a little camera cut to both Nas and Zapata who are very dubious as to whether they do understand and sigh I can practically read the rest of the season's theme in just this few seconds of footage. But anyway then ugh there’s Jane's distress when she sees that not all the team is there-- the terror that they might have been hurt and just ughhhhhhhhhh. Also thanks for that totally wooden-sounding line about Reade's surgery, Zapata. I’ve decided I'm going to  interpret the stiltedness of Audrey's normally flawless delivery as her not approving of her own character's attitude lol. But anyway Jane drops the Borden bombshell (naww, she says "he doesn't work for us", because she's on their side and always has been and ughhhhh) but anyway everyone has a collective "oh shit" moment as they realise Patterson and Borden are both AWOL. And then Jane brings up Roman and then has to explain what happened to her (that's right, guys, Shepherd planned to make her watch you die because she knew that YOU ARE ALL* (*minus Nas) JANE'S FAMILY AND LOSING YOU WOULD DESTROY HER. CAPICHE???  Ugh. But ugh Jane tells them everything Roman saving her and then about zipping him etc. And sighhh Zapata's got her angry pants and Jane-glare on yet again, but again I'm going to put it down to fear for her friend's life because that's the only way I can justify it without getting annoyed by it lol

Aaaaaahhhhh my baby Patterson. Waking up with your wound apparently fixed by the very man who shot you. Interesting that it seems (from the DWB thing) that he was officially trained in general practice/family medicine, and yet can also apparently do the job of a psychiatrist, AND perform surgery. Amazing. Such skills. Also okay I have to say some things bc I have such an issue with this bullet wound. Like people always seem to get shot in the abdomen in movies and shows (even like Jane did at the start of the season), and it's always all "oh it's okay, the bullet missed vital organs" but like uhhhmmm you know what fills up like the entire abdomen?? Bowel. You know what has a ton of blood supply that bleeds like mad, and also contains bacteria that can easily kill you if it gets into your bloodstream? Bowel. Ugh. And don't even get me started on how unsterile this whole environment is. But aaaanyway, it's tv and therefore she's totally fine and dandy rn, even magically managing to pull the IV from her arm with zero bleeding and disconnect the other end from the bag without it immediately gushing all over the floor. Maaaagic. Still, the fact that she's planning on strangling Borden with an IV line is pretty badass haha. Tbh the tubing would probably snap, but whatever. And then aaaaaaahhhh Shepherd is there and Borden tries to bargain for Patterson's life, even though all it achieves is torture rather than death. Welll.... you tried?

Meanwhile the team's still searching for Roman, and Weller comes into the lab where Zapata and Jane are already running a search, standing on opposite sides of the table. Mmm, symbolic. I wonder if they spoke at all?? Did Jane try yet again to explain herself, to beg forgiveness even though her crimes are long since paid for and now she has nothing at all she needs to be forgiven for? Sigh. But anyway, Zapata used her hacky skills to use Patterson's system to track Roman's phone. And finally he answers and is all ??!!!?????!, which is fair, and ugh my little crazy puppy is more like a little lost puppy at the moment. I kinda wish Jane had told him his name was Ian rather than Roman, tbh. But ah well. Then Roman gives very vague directions for where he is (seriously, man, you could be a lot more specific) and ugh he's just such a mess rn. He's actually literally like a puppy, and can’t concentrate on anything but the most basic of needs and sensations. Naw my baby

Ughhhh poor baby Patterson, suffering though both physical pain and emotional heartbreak. I had such high hopes for you two. And then ugh "everything I did was for my late wife" and lol Patterson and I have the exact same reaction: "just what every girl wants to hear" lol. Ugh, my poor baby. Borden truly seems a little unhinged rn, which is so sad. I miss my beautiful sweet cinammon roll of a man. I miss the Borden from our fics, the sweetheart who is as loyal to the team as any of them, who uses his training to help them and his empathy to support them. That Borden is long gone, now. But omg Patterson "Oh I'm sorry. Your side sounds really cool, so you should just go ahead and untie me, because I'm converted" lolll.  That’s my lil sassmaster. And then in the other room Shepherd’s finding out that Roman's been zipped and wow this show is really enjoying these dramatic sharp-closeup camera shots rn lol

Ugh Roman's exchange with the little girl. Slightly disturbing with the whole fork thing (though lbr I'm not a huge fan of kids messing with my stuff either lol) but kind of sweet in a sad way when he asks if he knows her. He's searching for any connection and is so saaaaad. And then all the 'hunters' (haha, get it? Coz they’re hunting him?) come in and wow that's a lot of practically identical looking dudes haha. It's like a camo print and baseball cap convention in here. And he gets the lady and the kid out but there are other customers in this place, what about them? You can see them in the background briefly but there’s never any screaming from terrified bystanders when the shooting starts lol. But ah well, mere details. Thankfully Jeller arrive in time to be part of the shootout, which ends when Roman stabs the guy who's shooting at them in the neck. Which is a lil vicious, maybe, but let's not forget Jane nearly choked a guy to death on her first day out of the bag. These two seriously have both survival instincts and protective instincts up the wazoo. Granted, him more on the former and her more on the latter, but still. 

Ugh and now Roman's cuffed in the interrogation room and Jane is upset about it and Zapata's like "Reade's injured bc of him" which is not entirely unreasonable since Roman WAS the one that got all the explosives and helped set up the trap, so....  but then Nas, in her usual manipulative way, supports Jane-- bc while she agrees Roman is ‘the enemy’, she still wants to use him and she knows a gentle approach is the best way to do that. Wow, snake-lady, Weller sure picked a winner for his rebound. Well done, my idiot son, I’m surprised she hasn’t bitten your head off during sex yet. But anyway speaking of idiots, now they're all telling Jane she has to lie to Roman about zipping him, because even though they vilified her for lying to them (when she did it to try to PROTECT them), they're suddenly fine and dandy with lying when it serves their own purpose. And yes, I can understand their perspective-- Roman might be their only way to save Patterson. But Jane lying to him now is eventually going to destroy anything she builds with him in the future. And my, my, doesn't this all sound familiar?? Then she goes in there and ugh my poor lil puppy is still so lost. And she promises that the team can help him like they helped her and tbh part of me is kinda dubious about that, especially the whole "they helped make me feel full again", given how they've treated her this season...  but at the same time it is also kinda true bc in S1 they gave her a purpose and a 'family', and at least in S2 so far she has still had the purpose part. Plus, she says 'helped', indicating that they weren't solely responsible for making her feel full again. I think a lot of that she did herself, just with assistance from Weller and the team and a little from Oscar and Roman and Oliver and basically anyone that she connected with even briefly. But still, the fact that she lies to someone she loves because the team made her is upsetting to me...

Speaking of upsetting, Shepherd's getting her torture on. Although honestly, as far as torture goes, this is pretty weak. All talk and no action, really. Like yes, a perforated eardrum hurts. But like Shepherd herself says, it does heal. Which was obviously what the writers were aiming for, because it's Patterson, and you can't permanently injure her or disfigure her since she's a series regular. But dude this torture is actually kind of embarrassing. People can perforate their eardrums just from cleaning their ears. Such a minor injury is hardly effective torture. And reinserting the needle in the same ear, trying to get her to suddenly break and talk? Completely pointless. If she was serious about torturing Patterson, she'd take an eye. Or smash her fingers, like she vaguely threatens to do but doesn’t ever get close to doing. Or if she wanted to keep her hands intact (ie, she wanted to use Patterson for her skills later) she could rip off fingernails or toenails. Cut off toes. Slice a bunch of cuts into her body. Break her legs. Poke her in her wound. There are literally so many ways to inflict pain on someone, and the fact that Shepherd supposedly chose this one only is just too ludicrous for me to believe. I mean c’mon, writers. As much as I would have hated seeing Patterson hurt, YOU chose to put her in that position, so you at least do it right...

Awwwww Roman's in the magic lie detector machine and he looks so sad and worried and Jane's there watching over him and ughhhh he just wants to help her and have her approval and ughhh my puppyyyy. Then Nas just ups and leaves partway through and Jane chases after her but Nas just shuts her down, then basically outright says that it's Jane's fault that they can't find Patterson. At least Weller hears that and very obviously dismisses Nas before reassuring Jane, clearly seeing how much she blames herself. And okay it's out of frame but from the way his body moves he definitely seems to put his hand on her upper arm and ugh FINALLY, BOY. FINALLY SUPPORTING HER IN THE WAY SHE DESERVES. And then as he walks off, Jane's left there all overwhelmed bc of guilt/worry over Patterson, the anger from the others, Kurt suddenly being on her side again (she's forgotten what that felt like, I bet), and also the fact that she now lied to Roman for no reason, since he wasn't able to help them find Patterson anyway. Sigh. I wish she had just gone back to the room and told him the truth right then, explained as best she could and apologised. Maybe it would have worked. 

Interesting that Weller sent Nas off like a good minute before he headed to the lab, but they both walked in at the same time. Did they have a conversation outside? Did she linger around the corner and listen in on  what he said to Jane? Or idk whatever lol, it’s tv. And so now we find out that Sandstorm has communicated in some kind of code that they need to crack, and one second Nas is all "oh shucks this is very complicated it might take weeks" and then the next she's suddenly like "wait look at that random book in this miraculously appearing photo, that could be the key to a book cypher!" Like wow, writers. You really didn't put much work into that one, did you? Like I understand there are time constraints involved with an episode but seriously that was just embarrassingly convenient. And then the ridiculous way Nas was all "okay so if we convert this and do that, it just might-- oh it worked!" Oh geez. C’mon. Give us a little credit here. On a brighter note, props to the other Laura (gypsyscarfwoman) who I believe noticed the book a few eps ago and commented on its possible significance given that it's the history of Rome and there's been strong Roman themes (hehe) in this season.      

Oh look who it is, Mr Director Man, my initial fave choice for the mole. Still disappointed about that, though lbr he's still being shady enough that he could still be up to something. Also wow is it midlife crisis time or something bc his haircut looks like that of a teenage boy who’s trying to get in with the 'in crowd' lol. But then he basically tells Nas to piss off and I instantly take back anything bad I ever said about him. Forgive me, Pelly. Your hair looks great and your suit is the most dapper of all. You are the bestest and I thank you for freeing me of Nas She-Demon Kamal and also for rightly ascribing (at least partial) blame to her for the deaths of those agents in the explosion. Now, if only Weller would shut up and stop trying to get her to stay, that would be great. Gotta say, it's really not fun to see him trying to protect her, bc it kinda lessens all the times he did the same for Jane. But whatevvvs, I'm terrific at only seeing what I want to see, so consider the Weller parts of this scene zipped from my memory lol

Great, we're back at the useless torture, and clearly Patterson is as impatient with it as I am lol. And daaaamn she's dropping some truth bombs about the lack of loyalty amongst Shepherd’s followers haha. But seriously if Shepherd lets THAT get to her, she's not the terrifying warlord she was made out to be lol

So they've cracked the code, brought in the chick that owns the garage at the listed location, and now they're making a whole lot of impossible threats (Gitmo? Really Tasha?) before she admits she provided a getaway car to Borden. A car that was fortunately VERY distinctive and able to be picked up on traffic cams. So handy.

Lol Shepherd is still in the midst of a tantrum and decides that Patterson has to die. Well, that was several hours wasted for nothing then haha. Borden convinces her to let him kill her, and I'm stunned to see that he's actually about to go ahead with it. Also shaking my head at the fact that the tourniquet is improperly positioned and not tight enough (though it appears to be wrapped around a fake bit of arm so whatever), and the fact that he inserts the wrong type of needle that shouldn't already be attached to a tube, plus he does it without palpating the vein, and seems to think he needs a whole bag of saline to prove that the vein is patent rather than just a quick 5ml flush. Sigh. But anyhow while he’s farting around, Patterson is doing such a good job of talking him out of it, and he admits that part of him loves her (*wails*). And then when he hears the team’s car he holds her hand for a sec and tells her goodbye and ugh dammit you two. We could have had it aaaaaaalllllll 

And so the cavalry has arrived but run into a bit of a bit of a dilemma of their own, the car flipping when they hit a damn landmine. The most shocking bit of the whole thing, though, is that Zapata jumps straight out from the back and runs to Jane's door, frantically asking if she's okay before calling Weller over to help free her. Is this a weirdly written backflip of her attitude or is this her real regard for Jane breaking through the anger that had been masking it? Personally I hope it's the latter, bc I've always liked to think that Zapata does care about Jane, and needs her, because right now she needs an outlet for all her negative emotions and (unhealthy as it is) she knows Jane will bear it, will be that proverbial punching bag for her because JANE knows she needs it (and knows that it isn't actually about her specifically at all). Hopefully it's a situation that doesn't last much longer as Zapata eventually finds better outlets (and apolgises her ass off to Jane). I just really need Zapata and Jane to be buds again. Sigh. But anyway ugh Weller pulls her out and they're clinging to each other for a sec until she sees Borden bolting for the trees and Weller takes off in pursuit. Really, son? It's like a bear trying to run down a cheetah. But sure, knock yourself out. Meanwhile I'm more excited to see the ladies save their other lady friend and ugh my precious babies. Even if Zapata and Jane are at odds rn, they can agree they both love Patterson and would do anything for her. #TeamBlindspotLadies

So somehow Weller caught up to Borden (I suppose it’s true cheetahs aren't great over long distances) and now they're getting into a punch-up, and while I can believe Borden probably got some martial arts training after joining Sandstorm-- possibly from Remi herself-- I still struggle to believe that he would ever win this fight. I did pause it at a hilarious spot just now though where there's just an upside down foot about to smack into Weller's face haha. And then Borden manages to cuff Weller's hand to his ankle, which is amusing but I definitely call bullshit, because anyone that’s been anywhere near handcuffs would know they would definitely not fit around a grown man's leg, especially not over his trousers. Not a chance. But whatever haha. And then ugh he says that Borden can't shoot him and he's all "not yet" and ugh remember when these two were buds?? Guys that would talk about sports during Weller's sessions but then Borden also always listened when he needed to talk about his dad or Taylor or whatever? I am so sad we lost that. Goddammit writers why couldn't you have just listened to me and made Pellington the mole. I guess I have to be thankful that at least it wasn’t Tasha... 

Noooo Pellington stay away from Roman!!! Stop hurting my baby pupppyyyyyy. Ugh and now there's the tears and the yelling and damn I am impressed with Luke Mitchell rn. He's absolutely killing it this ep. And then aaaaahhhhhh Pellington is gonna send him to the CIA to be tortured just like Jane and okay I take back all the nice things I said about you earlier, getting rid of Nas doesn;t make up for hurting my puppy. But ughhh Weller and Jane stand together against him, and then Weller threatens to quit if Roman is taken away (ugh the way Jane looks at him when he says that, just let me die right now). But I wonder if Weller’s threat is just because he knows Pellington doesn't want to have to find a replacement, or if he's starting to suspect that Pellington might have other reasons-- possibly Sandstormy reasons-- for wanting to keep him in that role??? And then ugh he argues to keep Nas, and while that initially bugged me earlier (I'm sure it's rather clear by now that I'm less than a fan of her, and especially of her thing with Weller), his language actually makes it clear that he wants her back because her needs her knowledge of Sandstorm, and doesn't think he can figure them out and catch them without her. And with that lightbulb moment, I'm back to being just a little less displeased with Weller. Not overly happy with how he's suggesting to use Jane and Roman's connection to get info, but then Pellington is pretty ruthless in his methods so Weller probably has to pretend to be that way too, even if he's planning on doing things differently. But dude, he is so setting himself up to be screwed over, and when that inevitably happens (*cough* when Nas betrays the team *cough*) Jane is the one that's gonna be there, picking his ass up off the ground. Because she loves him, and helping others is just what she does. Also ugh Jane with her hand on Roman's shoulder while he looks down at her... I can't even deal with these two.They are my babies and i love them

Firstly, I love Reade's apartment and I want it. Secondly, hmmm, a patient who had major vascular surgery going home the same day as he had his operation? Yeah, nope. Not ever. But again, tv land, so.... *shrugs*. The teasing Reade and sarcastically caring Zapata is so great until bam! the world's most unwanted kiss bursts awkwardly into the scene. Oh Gero. Gero, Gero, Gero. WHATREUDOIN. I seriously hope that this kiss-- and her reaction to it-- was just a way to get the "will they get together?" question completely out of the way by giving it a resounding no. Although lbr I don't trust the writers not to create a scene later where Zapata comes to Reade and is all "I was too scared to admit it to myself but I know now I'm desperately in love with you, let's ride off into the sunset together". Which would be THE WORST. Honestly like 99% of the time I am like YESSSS GIVE ME ALL THE ROMANCE but this has just never been a romantic ship to me. This has always been two people who love each other because they are BEST FRIENDS, regardless of the fact that they have different sets of genitals. And it's not just bc I want Reade and Sarah to find each other again, or to see Zapata fall for the 'forgetful terrorist' that she currently dislikes so much. It's because Zapata and Reade's friendship has always been one of the most beautiful and powerful parts of the show, and to imply that that kind of connection can only be had if you're also getting naked together... well that just pisses me off, because it cheapens the whole thing. So quit it, Gero. This is a ship that should never sail, okay???  Let's hope Zapata sticks to her guns and Reade realises that they never would have worked and they both just agree to forget it ever happened

Ughhhhh Jane bringing Roman food and reassuring him that it's all only temporary and then giving him the coooooin and ugh their haaaaaands and the "we'll figure it out together" and aaahhhhhhhh save meeeeeee

And then ughhh here's my next favourite brother-sister relationship, with Weller bringing sunflowers to Patterson who is talking adorably loudly and ugh he gets choked up as he gives them to her and he tries to encourage her to rest but lets her show him what she found anyway bc he knows she needs it and so she shows him the article about Borden's death-- or rather, Nigel's death (lol Nigel Thornton just makes me think of Nigel Thornberry. Smashing.) But ooooh that was clever by the writers--- this ep is titled "Nor I, Nigel, AKA leg in iron". Which could be interpreted as Nigel having his leg in irons, aka being trapped. Shackled. Like they're implying Borden was kind of 'chained' to Sandstorm, with no chance for freedom. Also she insults Borden's medical school which upon googling doesn't appear to be a real one, so that makes me wonder if Hardyshire is a name or a brand that one of the writers doesn't like or something haha, and it's their own little in-joke lol. Then she talks about the book code and he asks how she knows and she says “come on, I read the notes" which I do not understand? Which notes? And then Weller FINALLY gives her the phone belonging to the Sandstorm contact (still betting it was Remi) and lol after Patterson splutters about having "all of the questions" they easily decrypt it with the book key. And so they immediately find a video file (is there more on the phone or just that one file?? Will we see more next week?? It occurs to me now that I haven’t watched the promo yet lol). But yeah what is this leopard thing???? I always thought her neck seemed strangely uneven by just having the bird on one side. So I assume they scrapped the leopard tatt, right? Like didn't do it at all rather than it being in invisible ink or something. Which means that maybe Sandstorm thought it was somehow too revealing, like it could tie back to them somehow? Or maybe whatever the tatt was about is no longer an issue? Or something???? (also did you notice how well behaved I was just now and didn't make a single comment on Jane's great butt haha) 

So sandstorm is altering Phase 2 but Weller's role in it is still important. BUT WHAT IS ITTTTTT GERO JUST TELL US

Awwww nooo my baby Roman is having his first mempory, but it's an awful one (statistically, I guess that makes sense, given so much of his life has been awful). But ughhhhh idc if he was a terrorist before I just wanna give him a huggggggg