#and this includes looking at the small victories of a shitty day and not ignoring them

[harpershigh]

I see some really nice people on my dash struggling with anxiety and feeling down lately... I want to hug them all so bad 😞

I wish all the struggling people on my dash to know that you are amazing for simply existing, and even for the ones I don't get to talk too much: I WANT TO HUG YOU TIGHT AND SHAKE YOU IN THE AIR UNTIL YOU FEEL LOVED

Be well, my dears ❤️

[lettrespromises]

> LettresPromises informs you : You have one notification.

> Letter object : the heart’s warmth and the body’s flames.

> Todoroki Shouto and Bakugou Katsuki sent you a letter, would you like to read it?

@bruised-cherry​ sent a letter : ❝Hiya, Nikki! Can I request a one-shot(if you're down) where Todoroki and Bakugou's(poly relationship) s/o got into a little argument with each other and now their s/o is rejecting them and ignoring them. Since it's summer, TodoBaku turned off the air conditioning, AC, etc, knowing their s/o would need them soon. And just, kinky, dirty ass s m U t :) (and lana spelled backwards if you're down with that, if not that's cool). Sorry I'm a kinky hoe 👉😅👈❞

Author’s letter :

❝ dear bruised-cherry,

first and foremost, i would like to apologize for taking so long to write your promised letter! nonetheless, i had a lot of fun writing it, hopefully it will reach your expectations!! it’s 4:05am as i am writing this and my brain is unable to write proper words i’m sorry—

sealed with a kiss,

nikki.❞

Genre : Pure smut, angst if you squint.

Warnings : Cursing, sex, vaginal sex, blow-job, cunnilingus, anal sex, daddy kink. (Please consider that the characters are aged up.)

Word count : 5.8K.

This day seemed to counterbalance the already established rules of time and space, you were secretly convinced that minutes were hours and each time you would lay your eyes upon any item with the sole purpose of indicating the current hour, you felt as if time had stopped. It was a long, long day. Truthfully, you wished you could have had the opportunity to meet someone whose quirk was time control to ask them to skip the remaining hours of the day.

The root of the problem was deeply imbedded with the increasing attacks committed by the villains in town, you were on a mission with both Bakugou and Todoroki- a clear lack of communication and coordination signed a burning defeat for the three of you. A mission built and perfected during several months had just blown into pieces, your efforts, tears, blood and energy were the combustibles to the pain fueled by this defeat. Each one of you attempted to exude this loss in your own way while making your way back home. Todoroki, sat on the passenger seat, found the cure to his own inner built-up anger by digging his pearly whites into the flesh of his thumb while observing the passing scenery before his eyes. Bakugou, unexpectedly, made a martyr of the steering wheel by squeezing the non-existent life out of it, causing his fingers to turn white in the process. You, on the other one hand, kept on reminiscing the earlier events of today, your mind roaming over and over again to find what went wrong, you weren’t exactly angry : disappointed in yourself was a more precise way to describe the matter.

The silence was deafening, almost agonizing. Truthfully, silence was even more intimidating than noise- a noisy ride would have included the repertoire of Bakugou’s insults flowing freely from his mouth, it was expected. But silence, on Bakugou’s end, echoed to a level of anger rarely ever reached, metaphorically speaking, Katsuki was a living and breathing ticking bomb at this very moment.

The sound of the car door smashing broke the silence as you arrived home, Bakugou was already inside, his hands shoved in his pockets as expected. You freed a sigh you ignored you were holding from your lips, an early sign that you knew there was little to no seconds left on the ticking bomb. Todoroki sent an apologetic glance in your way, you knew he didn’t mean no harm, if anything, it was a silent sign to encourage you before facing the aftermath caused by the explosion of the bomb.

Flower vases left shattered on the floor, a door handle scarred by the scorching hot imprints of Bakugou’s unforgiving hold and a continuous flow of insults as background noise- those were the said aftermath of the explosion. Bakugou’s body language radiated off pure anger, like you or Todoroki had barely seen before, his rage was exuding from the pores of his palms through a dangerous marriage of small explosions and smoke. He was roaming back and forth in the living room, his stare was focused on the explosions emanating from his hands as a way to convince himself that the more explosions would be set free, the less he would feel angry.

« Fuck, fuck, fuck… Goddamnit, fuck! What the fuck went wrong, hah?! We planned this shit entirely, from start to fucking finish. What the fuck went wrong?! You tell me instead of staring at me, do fucking something for once! » The words echoed and morphed into a roar sent directly your way, anger lacing his every word.

« Bakugou, don’t say things you don’t mean. » Todoroki stated, the pseudo comfort embedded in his voice radically clashed with the heat of Bakugou’s words.

« Don’t say shit I don’t mean? Who the fuck are you to tell others what to do when you couldn’t even do shit when we were facing those bastards?! You didn’t do shit, you fucking left us on our own and arrived at the very last second. So tell me, give me one good fucking reason as to why I should take shit from you! Fucking say it to my face, because I’m dying to know what’s your excuse. » The sounds of Bakugou’s explosions slowly adopted the structure of a crescendo, but Todoroki remained unfazed, his facial expression didn’t betray his pseudo serenity. « I was evacuating the civilians, you knew that, I don’t understand why you act so confused. We prepared this plan together, the three of us, you knew what my role was. »

You were stuck in the middle of a battlefield, torn between two sides but the tragic twist of this scene was that you couldn’t find the strength to defend one of them. You needed to remain objective and impartial, something obviously easier said than done. Your eyes darted from one figure to another each time you heard the sound of either Todoroki or Bakugou’s words, truthfully, you felt paralyzed under the lack of options in this crucial situation- on one hand, Katsuki was nothing short of acerbic when anger consumed him, on the other one hand, Shouto’s calm attitude hid a dangerous amount of anger building inside of him ready to explode if Bakugou’s venom stung too hard to Todoroki’s liking.

« Oh yeah, yeah. You were on you own, hah? Evacuating civilians and shit, am I supposed to feel fucking sorry for you when Y/N were busting our fucking asses out there to take down those bastards? You’re trying to play it solo like your old man? You know what, the more I think about it, the more you start to act like him-… »

« Katsuki! That’s enough, shut up! »

It was your turn to let anger lace your words in such a way that they developed their own toxins, purposefully made to sting Bakugou hard enough to cut his rambling. Endeavor was a touchy topic to Shouto, and as soon as Katsuki pronounced the words ‘old man’, a hint of flames appeared on Todoroki’s collarbone- it was only a matter of second before an inferno invaded the living room.

« You never know when to stop, do you? Do you have any idea of how ridiculous this is? You, Bakugou, you should know out of all people that his father his a sensitive topic, and yet you let your anger get the best of you every damn time. Todoroki, were you really ready to blast your flames at him? Aren’t the both of your grown men, or am I mistaken? How disappointing, how fucking disappointing. » You dropped every last ounce of energy in your tirade, every last bit of emotion in the process too. You felt so numb, deprived from your own vigor.

Both Todoroki and Bakugou’s eyes fell on you as soon as your roaring words broke their mutual verbal assaults, their mouths were set agape- they did have words on the tip of their tongue, but they couldn’t find the strength to give life to them. There it was again, the deafening and agonizing silence.

You couldn’t bare standing in the same vicinity as them, disappointment clouded your vision and the more you looked at them, the more your vision became foggy- but it still remained unclear as to whether it was due to the disappointment or the tears gathering at the corner of your eyes. Without wasting yet another second, you went upstairs and locked yourself in your room, giving yourself some privacy to wipe away your tears.

Downstairs, the silence was still suffocating both Bakugou and Todoroki, their stare were still laying upon the spot where you used to be just a few seconds earlier, they just hadn’t processed your sudden disappearance. They blinked once, then twice, and a third time to make sure they weren’t dreaming and once they were convinced it was very much real, they looked at each other and sighed as if they were, too, deprived of their own energy.

« Bak-… Katsuki, it was my mistake to threaten you with my flames, I apologize. » Todoroki’s tone was soft in comparison to his last statement, a sense of compassion replaced the anger laced in his words.

« I shouldn’t have talked about your shitty dad. » A sentence, which, in Bakugou’s vocabulary echoed to an apology, but with the cruel exception of the forbidden word which begins with an ’s’ and ends with ‘-orry’.

« I assume Y/N is not going to talk to us for a while, and, don’t take it personally but her presence is very much needed. » Bakugou frowned as Todoroki’s words connected to his eardrums, needless to say, he knew he was right but didn’t care enough to admit it and grant him this silent victory.

« I might have an idea, half-and-half, use your shitty quirk to lower the temperature of the house, you know how much she fucking hates cold temperatures. That’s gonna make her move her ass out of the bedroom. » Todoroki only quirked his eyebrows in response while Bakugou was adorning his most victorious grin, he knew this plan meant an automatic win- both of them could handle cold temperatures thanks to their quirks, you on the other one hand, were more fond of warmer temperatures.

Todoroki sighed, perhaps already regretting his choice to follow Bakugou’s antics, but if it meant that he had to play dirty to get you, he was ready to deem himself as the dirtier player in the game. Soon enough, a frigid fog invaded mercilessly the first floor, and your bedroom was the first victim of the unforgiving coldness. Little did you know, this was the beginning of a series of crushing defeats on your end : seeking warmth underneath your blankets? Didn’t work. Blow air on your hands? A total fail. Looking through your boyfriends’ closets to find one of their thick hoodies and wear it? Not the solution you needed to cure the problem.

You were running out of solutions, and that’s when your unconsciousness crept in and murmured suave temptations to your ear : the welcoming warmth of Bakugou and Todoroki’s bodies, their arms wrapped around you like a human cocoon to protect you from the cold temperature. It sounded like a dream, and you had the means to make it real- but at what cost? You roamed around the room, not only to create body warmth by moving, but also to accelerate the train of your thoughts. What was more important? Freezing yourself to death with your pride as an inexistent shield from the cold, or embrace the agonizingly tempting warmth radiating from both of your boyfriends?

The answer to your rhetorical question manifested itself rather quickly- in the blink of an eye, you had already wrapped your hand around the doorknob and raced downstairs towards the personifications of your very own personal heaters under Shouto’s puzzled expression and, in contrast, Katsuki’s triumphing grin.

« Hah? Have you finally decided to show up, princess? » Anyone could have noticed the more-than-obvious obnoxious tone dripping from Bakugou’s words, he glanced over at Todoroki who grinned at him in response, silently thanking him.

« Just keep me warm. » You found a perfect spot right between Katsuki and Shouto on the couch, your knees were brought to your chest, your arms were encompassing your legs- if anything, you were pretty close to looking like a sphere, but you were ready to contort yourself in any position to gather some precious warmth. Eventually, you let out a silent sigh as soon as you felt their respective warmth hit the surface of your skin as a sign of satisfaction.

« I think you forgot the magic word, love. » Shouto teased, his warm index gracing the cold flesh on your shoulder, such a tease.

« Ugh, fine! Keep me warm, please. » You emphasized the pleading word, just enough to make them grin even wider in victory.

« ‘Wasn’t so hard, was it, princess? » You couldn’t exactly tell if you hated or were absolutely enamored with the teasing tone of his voice, but once thing was certain- the grin plastered upon his face was a thing of beauty.

Bakugou, as expected of him, took the lead, or rather, sent a silent challenge in Todoroki’s way which dared him to take the upper hand of the situation. He wrapped his arms around your waist in a lion-like manner, ready to protect what’s his, with the help of his strength you were now sitting on his lap. The grip around your frame didn’t move one bit, not only did he want to provide you as much warmth as his quirk allowed, but he also wanted to maintain control. Your head was laying upon the surface of his shoulder, your face was facing Todoroki who admired you as if he had witnessed the renaissance of Venus under your traits.

« I will help you feel a bit more warm, alright, love? » You hummed in response to Todoroki’s one-sided interrogation.

Another source of warmth was more than welcome. Thus, Shouto wasted no time and placed his hand upon the surface of your cheek, daring to cross Bakugou’s self-claimed territory in the process without any ounce of shame. The amount of space between the two of you had dangerously reduced until totally disappearing which cleared Todoroki’s path on his way to show you just how much he could warm you up. His lids fluttered shut in anticipation, and there it was, the oh so fabulous source of warmth- he planted his lips on yours in perfect harmony. After all, a promise was a promise, correct? Regardless of how it’s executed, correct? That was exactly Shouto’s mindset as his tongue grazed your bottom lip to beg for access to the inside of your mouth, a wish quickly granted which allowed him to spread the warmth of his tongue inside your mouth as his pink muscle met yours which only announced the beginning of the dance of pleasure. Your actions corresponded to his, and his initiatives echoed to yours— soon enough, your tongues were melting in each other’s touch. As much as he wanted to keep this going forever, the way you grabbed his wrist was an indicator that you were starting to lack oxygen. Of course he ended the kiss, but not before he dug his teeth into your lower lip to which you responded with a semi silent whimper.

Bakugou observed the scene from the side with the same smirk gracing his facial features, he would be the worst liar on Earth if he were to say that seeing your mouths collide in harmony wasn’t the epitome of poetry in motion. But who was he to let Shouto get the best of you? Who was he to let Shouto make you whimper first? He craved, no, he needed to make you melt under his touch.

« Want us to make you feel hot, princess? Be careful what you wish for. » This sentence was his final warning before flipping you over on your back, offering him the best position to physically tale the upper hand under Shouto’s amused stare. You looked so pure and yet so sinful at once, a paradox which drove of them crazy as they imagined the most unholy deeds they were going to do to you. Katsuki’s index hooked the fabric of your hoodie (more like his, but it’s just a slight detail which turnt him on even more) before to pull it over your head.

Oh, and what a gorgeous sight to behold— your naked upper body, in all its glory, a body worthy of the most descriptive pages of a novel. He couldn’t help but snicker at the ethereal scenery before his eyes, he knew he was going to devour you and make you his, no matter what.

« Don’t give me those eyes, woman, I fucking told you I was gonna make you feel real hot. You won’t need this shitty hoodie to keep you warm. »

The assault was given once his pearly whites dug into the soft flesh of your neck, reflex kicked, you titled your head to the side to give him more room to play with. It was a succession of biting, licking, biting again until your skin adopted a purplish tone which echoed to a mark of both domination and belonging. Of course, you belonged to him… And Todoroki. Once he was satisfied with his artwork, he licked the abused flesh one last time before smirking to himself as a sign of victory.

You couldn’t expect Todoroki to be left out of the party, after all, you did belong to him too. He pushed Bakugou to the side just enough to bask in the glory of your half-naked form. The gleam in his eyes reflected nothing but pure adoration, he was torn between the will to worship each inch of your body and the tempting option to make your legs weak until you can’t form proper words anymore. Oh, well, both were bound to happen.

« Oi! If you wanna touch her, don’t fucking push me! » Bakugou’s rambling was cut short as soon as Todoroki’s lips crashed on his, the blonde eye’s widened in surprise but he eventually allowed himself to crave to the passion.

« I don’t need your permission to touch what’s mine. » Todoroki whispered against the flesh of your breasts, emphasizing the very last word strategically.

The sight of your hardened nipples caused him to lick his bottom lip in anticipation, just a way to warm up his lips before devouring your flesh. Todoroki wasted no time and took this opportunity to let his tongue grace your left bud, the motions were repetitive and hypnotizing— from circular motions right around your nipple, from vertical licks to sucking motions, each deed was designed for your own pleasure while your whimpers falling free from your lips and the hand stuck at the root of his hair encouraged his actions. Your whimpers were cut short once Bakugou’s lips found yours and dragged you in a tongue-led kiss, and to no one’s surprise, you followed his already established rhythm, but goodness, it was deliciously intoxicating, letting you crave for more. And somehow, the sound of your hushed whimpers created an even more attractive melody.

Now, it was Todoroki’s turn to take advantage of the vacant place left by Bakugou who was now bent on your side which meant that your whole body to discover for the umpteenth time. A trail of kisses left from the valley of your breasts to your lower belly indicated which dangerous way Shouto was bound to take. He took a glance at the liplock share with Katsuki who offered you no rest no matter if you craved for oxygen or not, the same amused grin still plastered upon his facial features, and augmented the temperature just a bit more.

His finger drew an invisible line along the edge of your underwear, a pre-meditated deed which only announced in advance what he was bound to do, he was just one step closer to make your legs crumble under his touch. In a swift motion, fueled by his own personal hunger to satisfy his fantasies, Todoroki got rid of your pants and he could already discern the wet patch adorning the cotton surface of your underwear, what a sight to see. A new trail of kiss was left upon your skin by Shouto, this time, he focused on the inside of your thighs and followed a vertical pattern until reaching the climax of his journey : your already dripping heat.

« Are you already this wet for us, love? How kind of you. » The amused tone which embedded his voice hid a hidden sinful tone, such a contrast, but only Bakugou and you could catch the double-tone.

Bakugou, on the other one hand, mimicked Todoroki’s earlier antics (only to outdo him, his own ego was his sole motivation) and made a victim of your breasts. One lovebite on your neck wasn’t enough, he craved to make you his even more, on every inch of your body. This thought was the reason behind his will to bite the generous flesh of your left breast, which clearly isn’t abused enough to his liking. And so it began once more— biting, licking, biting once more just hard enough to make you whimper in response, suck on your flesh until it becomes purple and has his name written all over it. From the love bite, Katsuki kissed his way until your nipple, the motions of his mouth were strategically chosen to make pure sounds of pleasure fall free from mouth mouth, while his thumb and index were twisting your nipple while following the circular motions of his tongue. The harsh grasp you held onto his blonde hair was only one of the first hints that you were on your way to reach a state of pure bliss, the moans echoing in his head were his favorite hint though.

The sensation of a sharp lick across the fabric of your underwear awakened a new whimper on your end, this time, it was higher which only echoed to a higher level of pleasure. Todoroki’s lips curved into a grin at the sound of it, what a marvel to hear. The fabric which separated your core from Shouto’s lips was seen as a taunt to the latter, but fret not, said taunt was quickly taken care of as soon as he got rid of your underwear, throwing them who-knows-where in the room.

And so the temperature augmented yet again— an experimental lick caused you to bite your lower lip to refrain any moan to escape from your mouth as you closed your eyes in anticipation for pure bliss. Your reaction was the best indicator to Shouto who had found yet another motivation to make you come undone— getting to hear your agonizingly breathtaking whimpers and moans fall in cascade from your lips. Your core was wet, much to Todoroki’s delight, and he could almost hear you calling his name, begging him to eat you as if you were his last dinner on Earth.

His mouth married the shape of your core, his tongue danced beautifully against your folds as if your core had been specifically created to welcome the wonders of his mouth. The licks left by his pink muscle were executed differently in several ways— vertical licks, circular shapes, he based his actions on the sound of your shameless moans and whimpers to predict his next move.

« Shouto, S-Shouto! » Your first begging, which didn’t go unnoticed to both of the protagonists of your very own pleasure.

« So eager, aren’t you, love? » He kissed these words into your skin, words embedded with adoration and love in the process.

Well, there was someone whose name hadn’t been begged, and truth be told, it was getting on his nerves. How dare Shouto have the honor of being begged and not him? Oh, well, he was about to change that right away.

« Open wide, princess, I’ll give you something to fucking beg about. » The same usual smirk accompanied his words, he already knew what was bound to happen, and the knew what effect it would leave on you.

By the time you were busy with Shouto, Bakugou had already taken care of his own clothing by… taking everything off. Isn’t it easier that way? His genetically given large hand stroked tentatively his length, just enough to cause a layer of pre-cum to cover his tip, once he was satisfied with the result, he wasted no time to shove his entire member in your mouth in a swift motion. The warmth of your lips was the most delicate welcome he could’ve asked for, regardless if you were to choke or not, he’d find a way to make you beg his name until it becomes the only thing you’re able to say. Your throat grazed the sensitive tip of his grit, earning you a hushed grunt as a reaction which was a rarity coming from Bakugou. Both of his hands held a harsh grip on your hair, and he used said grip as a level of pressure to thrust himself into your mouth under the mesmerizing sounds of your choked whimpers. It was a scenery of beauty, he was the sole holder of all your attention— you were looking at him through your lashes with pleading eyes, silently begging him to keep going until you were to choke on his member. A silent sign he didn’t miss, he knew you like the back of his hand, after all.

Eventually, Shouto complied to your begs, you wanted more? Oh, you were bound to get more, more precisely, you were bound to have exactly what you deserved. Todoroki and tease were very close to being synonymous, hence why he purposefully used the pad of his thumb to create circulate motions on your sweet bundle of nerves which was the key to make you come undone, and, of course, two of his fingers which had already found a shelter inside your folds while pumping in and out, over and over again, until bringing you to the brim of ecstasy.

Under this new pressure, the need to express your pleasure through moans was almost impossible given the fact that each sound coming out of your mouth was rendered hushed by Bakugou’s length. Your wrapped your hand around his phallus to not only catch some cruelly needed oxygen but also set free all the sounds of pleasure trapped inside you, as soon as your mouth was set free, a pure sound of bliss fell free from your lips. A sound so sinful and addicting at once that both Bakugou and Todoroki couldn’t help but repeat said sound in their head over and over again.

« Oi, princess, I didn’t fucking tell you to stop so keep sucking until I say otherwise, did you fucking get that? » It was a one-sided question, your answer wouldn’t matter anyway.

And there he went again, shoving his member inside your mouth as Bakugou began chasing his own pleasure— if he was careful enough, he could picture the shape of heaven when his lids fluttered shut. This time, his thrusts were harsher, clearly designed to attain his climax. But he wasn’t the only one who was close to reach the seventh sky— the addition of Shouto’s fingers pumping in and out, the oh so right pressure on your sweet of nerves and the precise licks left on your wet folds was nothing short of divine, that divine that it was going to make you reach your orgasm sooner than you thought.

Reflex kicked, your grip on Shouto’s hair became gradually tighter as you felt the knot in your stomach grow more and more until it became out of your control, you rolled your eyes back in ecstasy and the pearls of tears on the corner of your eyes were now rolling down the surface of your cheeks. Through choked sounds, you encouraged Shouto to keep going and going until you could touch heaven by the tip of your fingers. And then heaven came to you, the liberating sensation of floating on a cloud overwhelmed you as you reached your orgasm, manifesting the pure sounds of bliss through the hushed sounds caused by Bakugou’s intrusive length.

« You’re such a good girl, love, you came undone for us. Such a good girl… » The end of his sentence was whispered in marvel against your core, it was a sight he could never get bored of.

His tongue found once more its way to your folds, licking each and every drop of your juices to satisfy his own pleasure. Your taste was his favorite, it was addicting as hell, so addicting that before to swallow said juices, he would always make a mental note of how your cum feels on his tastebuds.

« Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, god-fucking-damnit! » Bakugou’s grunts followed the structure of a crescendo, he threw his head back in pure pleasure— he was so close, so fucking close, he wanted to reach the seventh sky as well.

Todoroki grabbed him by the nape of his neck, his fingers digging right in Katsuki’s flesh, and planted his lips still coated with your juices right upon his. Bakugou could taste your sweet nectar on Shouto’s lips, and perhaps it was the last thing necessary for him to come undone— your taste always had the ability to bring him over the edge, and once more, this time was no exception. Bakugou groaned against Shouto’s lips before breaking the contact between them to share a pure sound of ecstasy of his own and eventually, come undone right in your mouth. A string of the blonde’s cum dripped down from the corner of your mouth, and observing you use your tongue to collect the remaining cum on your chin made Bakugou if he wasn’t going to come undone twice in a row at the sight of this.

« Come on, love, we’re not done yet. » This was the final chapter of all of Shouto’s fantasies, a chapter which was finally bound to take form.

Todoroki snaked his arms around your form to place you right on his lap, once the position was comfortable for the both of you, he placed his length right against your twitching core which was already begging for him to fill you.

« Please, j-just fuck me already… Please… » Another auditive wonder— the sound of you begging was worthy of the most beautiful symphony.

« You asked so nicely, love, who am I to refuse? » A rhetorical question, as expected of Shouto when he led the teasing game.

Shouto filled you instantly, shoving his entire length inside you which caused the unexpected appearance of a moan which you could hardly suppress even by biting your lower lip. An initiative quickly ended by Bakugou’s intervention who tilted your head just enough so he could plant a rough kiss upon your lips in order to prevent you from hushing those sounds of pleasure any longer.

« Don’t be fucking shy, let us hear what you gotta’ say, baby girl. » You looked at Katsuki with pleading eyes, you knew that you were not going to be able to suppress or refrain any of your moans or whimpers, you knew you were bound to become a vocal mess.

Shouto’s hands held a strong grip on your waist, so strong that the tip of his fingers turnt white under the pressure. His rhythm was frantic from the beginning, using the combination of his hips bucking upwards and his arms wrapped around your middle to clash against his testicles. You had the best spot to hear up close and personal the ravishing sounds of bliss coming out of Shouto’s mouth like a broken record. Your arms were wrapped around his neck as a desperate cry for support as his hips were pounding deep inside you until reaching your cervix.

Behind you, Bakugou had already made sure to wet his fingers to prep you. Prep you for what exactly? Oh, well, we all know Bakugou doesn’t handle well being left alone, especially when Todoroki has the advantage of him. The tip of his fingers brushed against your rectum until two of them entered your second hole, he expected this reaction but your moans were ethereal, especially when he was the cause of them. His fingers pumped into your rectum just enough for you to get used to the stretch and to the knew (and double) sensation.

« Be a good fucking girl for daddy and let him fuck you from behind, yeah? » He studied your facial expression and the irregular pattern of your breaths to know whether or not you were fond of his new antics, to which you confirmed his doubts by whispering an almost inaudible « Y-Yes, daddy… »

Nonetheless, the elongated moan you let out in his favor once his fingers reached a bit deeper in your rectum was enough for him to get the clue and replace the feeling of his index and middle finger with the width of his length. A pure sound of pleasure with his name written all over it, if you were to ask Bakugou, he would tell you right away that this is what heaven felt like.

« I-I’m going to cum, I can’t-… » Shouto’s hot breath crashed against your equally as hot skin, it became impossible for him to suppress his grunts any longer.

Bakugou mirrored his pace which had suddenly quickened under the pressure erupting in his lower belly, he could already touch the clouds of the seventh sky, and you were the key to unlocking the divine skies of heaven.

« Fuck… Fuck, I’m close too. » Their grunts matched in unison under the melody of your repetitive moans caused by the double pressure.

With one last thrust from both protagonist, you felt two rushes of hot liquids invade your insides as a moan signed their orgasm. That was it, they came undone and touched heaven as they came inside of you, all the pent up pressure in their abdomen had been set free for your greatest pleasure. You rolled your head back on Katsuki’s shoulder, oxygen had become a rarity under the frantic thrusts of the two newfound victims of passion. Once your lungs felt full again, you released an elongated sigh which drained all of your strength in the process.

Bakugou pulled out first, causing you to whimper at the sudden sensation of vacuity replacing the ever so addictive sensation of being filled by the man who held the keys to your heart. As he pulled out, his arms snaked around your middle and he dragged you with him, hot breaths crashing against your blazing skin. Katsuki put your head over his chest while you mustered up the last bits of vigor you could invoke to find shelter in his comforting embrace.

As soon as Shouto evened his breathing pattern, he felt the urge to join you and Katsuki— laying by your side, his arms draped over your waist, he felt at peace with the two most important people in his life, the true definition of perfection to him. Silence came back again, but this time it was comforting, a silence which held all the fierceness of your feelings for one another. A few kisses were planted here and there on your skin as a silent way to show gratitude, but all three of you were absolutely drained because of passion.

« If you’re still feeling cold, I know a fucking way or two to fix this shitty problem, princess. »

[bffsoobin]

Sunny Day Confessions

↳having Beomgyu as a best friend comes with an uncountable number of benefits. You thought that you had come close to experiencing them all. That is, of course, until he offered up his confession on a silver platter and waited for you to make the next move.

➤ fluff, smut, best friends to lovers

Word Count:2,412

Requested?: yes!

Warnings: This includes mature content! Please do not read this if you are under 18 or generally feel uncomfortable!!!! Insecurities, dirty talk, oral (f),use of Noona (not sexually), grinding.

A/N: I feel like I got way too carried away with this so I’m sorry if it’s like way too long or weird. Also this is my first time actually writing smut so I know it’s probably not great but hey practice makes perfect. Also if you’re a person who just wants fluff, you can read up to the keep reading line and that’s all you’ll get! Hope you enjoy! ps I know I suck at titles so I apologize!! 

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“Beomgyu, I’m serious! Get back here with that!” you yelled, running through the lush grass toward your best friend who was currently holding your phone hostage. The warm breeze whipped past your face as you ran, carrying the loud laughter of Beomgyu with it as he bounded up to stand on top of a patio chair. With his left hand- which held your precious device captive- raised totally above his head, the height advantage left you no real hope. You whined again and made a futile attempt to jump up to height and snatch your phone only to stumble over your own two feet.

 “Just because you’re older doesn’t mean you’re taller or faster, Noona,” Beomgyu taunted, waving your phone around as it glinted in the sunshine like a trophy. Your nose involuntarily crinkled in disgust at the nickname. You were only a year older than Beomgyu, and you had known him since you were both in diapers and drooling on yourself. Despite your dislike of the honorific, Beomgyu insisted on using it whenever he felt like it. 

“Dude, please. Just give it back. You’re acting like a child!” He only rolled his eyes and continued his waving and sticking his tongue out at you. “What? Are you scared I’ll find something scandalous? We’re all adults here, Y/N.” You heaved a sigh and placed a hand over your eyes, ready to admit defeat from your best friend and just sink into the warm grass. Honestly, he was right. You couldn’t think of anything he could find on your phone that would be very earth shattering. He cheered loudly, taking your gestures as a sure sign of his victory as he began making his own background music to lower himself down from the metal chair with signature Beomgyu dramatics. You plopped into the grass and let him have his moment while you plucked at the pieces of grass resting under your fingers.

His singing came to a halt before you felt him nudge at your leg with his foot a few times. You stayed unresponsive, shutting your eyes against the glare of afternoon sun. Beomgyu sighed, obviously unhappy with your lack of response as he laid down next to you as close as he could get. He latched his hands around your upper arm and shook. 

“What now?” you didn’t even bother to open your eyes, just turn your head to the right to face him as you spoke. 

“Open your eyes, Noona. Please! You can have your phone back,” he was whining now, and you could imagine his lower lip jutting out as he tried to win you over. Upon opening your eyes, you were shocked at just how close his face was to yours. Your noses were just inches apart, and you could make out every single line and dot on the boy’s face in the brilliant sunlight. Long eyelashes brushing over his rosy cheeks with every blink, hair falling away from his forehead in a fan around him. He looked beautiful. You mentally slapped yourself for even forming that thought. He was your best friend, and that was something you would never mess up. And who were you to believe that he would find any interest in you either? Swallowing the lump in your throat, you smiled at him and sat up to snatch your phone from the ground between you. At the exact moment you grabbed it, a notification ping rang through the air. 

Upon reading it, you immediately frowned and made a sound of disgust. Beomgyu was sitting up by your side immediately. 

“Everything okay, Y/N?” You nodded and gave him a noncommittal smile that you hoped would trick him into believing you. He furrowed his eyebrows and sneakily tried to read the text before you could move your phone. You were quicker though, flipping the phone over and dropping it back into your lap. 

You gave another smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes and laid back down in the grass, waiting for him to just drop it all. Huffing again, Beomgyu plopped himself right on your hips, pulling a surprised gasp from your lips as he looked down on you and snatched up your phone. The surprise kept you front protesting as he easily read the text notification that had originally upset you. You watched his face shift from confusion to anger to sadness as he read again and again before glancing up at you. Before he could even speak, you began, “it’s nothing. I just sent her some photos I took earlier and I didn’t think I looked that good in them so I asked her opinion. And yeah, I mean, she’s right. I don’t look good in the pictures.” 

The silence was stifling as Beomgyu simply stared at you. Rustling leaves and the birds chirping at one another became backdrop music to the awkward staredown that had you shrinking under his intense gaze. “Why would you believe any of that? Why would you take her word for anything? You’re beautiful. I’ve always found you beautiful, and kind, and funny, and you’re so smart. You’re perfect.” his voice was soft and caring; akin to the way he would speak to you when you had a headache over school work.

“Beomgyu, please, don’t.” A pit of despair was starting to roll around in your stomach as the position you were in felt way too intimate and his stare much too intense. You were about to ask him to get up, squirm away from his presence and go inside to drown your sorrows in a bowl of ice cream. 

“Don’t what? Don’t tell you the truth? Don’t make you feel better? Don’t tell you to ignore your shitty friend? Don’t tell you that I-” he looks up at the sun, squints and swallows hard enough for you to hear before leaning down even closer to your face. “Don’t tell you that I’m in love with you?”

Your whole world spins, like the feeling you get right before you’re about to puke. You’re too hot, too cold, too confused to wrap your head around hearing the phrase you’d been dreaming of for years. He’s patient, his weight on your hips a constant reminder of his presence. The presence that has permeated every part of your life for as long as you can remember. When you finally work up the courage to make eye contact with him again, a shiver runs down your spine and shakes your whole body. Beomgyu is smirking, reading every inch of your facial expressions before leaning down until your noses touched. Your breath hitched in your throat as he placed a hand on your cheek.

 “Can I kiss you?” He asked sweetly, rubbing his thumb back and forth over the texture of your cheek. All it takes is a nod for him to descend on your lips and give you a small peck, testing the waters before you chase his lips for more. You fumble a little bit, nerves getting the best of you before Beomgyu wraps you back up in his presence, his full lips working magic on the tensions in your body. He still tastes like the strawberries you had with lunch about an hour ago, and you eagerly enjoy the feel of his lips on yours as you part your mouth even wider. Neither of you show signs of stopping until Beomgyu pulls back to heave in a breath and caress your jawline. His lips are shiny and swollen and only make you hungry for more. Apparently, he has other plans as he begins to kiss all around your face until he reaches your neck and your giggles melt into sighs. 

“You sound so pretty, Y/N,” Beomgyu groans into your neck as he continues his assault on your skin. Your head began to spin as you were dizzy on his scent and the weight of his body on top of yours underneath the hot sunshine. 

“We- we can’t, not here,” you gasped and grabbed at his shoulder for leverage as you worked to sit up. He let you out from under his weight and fixed his darkened eyes on you. He held his hand out to you without a word, silently asking for your consent to continue what the two of you had started. To his surprise, you yanked him up by his hand with impressive force and practically ran into the comfort of your air conditioned living room. As soon as you passed the threshold, Beomgyu was back to towering over you and crowding your body with his warmth. His breath ghosted past your ear as he bent down to kiss the side of your face. Your eyes fluttered shut at the movement, and he took your moment of weakness as an opportunity to whisper in your ear. 

A hand slipped under the soft fabric of your shirt as Beomgyu spoke “all those times you told me about the guys you liked, the ones who took you on dates you never really liked, all those guys you let into your bed… I always knew I could be better.” The fabric was pulled over your head, leaving you feeling dizzy. Despite the fog building in your brain, you smirked and began backing towards your bedroom door and tapped at your lips in thought, “Hm, I’m not so sure about that.” A fire sparked in Beomgyu’s eyes, igniting his competitive streak had him surging toward you and ushering you into the bedroom. The door clicked behind him as you laid back on the pillows on the bed and Beomgyu kneeled between your parted legs. Getting an eyeful of the marks on your throat and your breasts on display drew a deep moan from his throat.

“Don’t worry, I’ll prove it to you, just tell me what you want,” he was playing dirty, tracing his long fingers over your inner thighs and waiting for your response.

“You, Beomgyu. I want you,” his hands descended on the button of your shorts, making quick work of them and your underwear in one pull. You shuddered at the exposure and made to close your legs before Beomgyu gave a dissatisfied tut and leaned back to pull his own shirt over his head. Momentarily distracted by his toned body, you whine and almost miss the cocky grin that graces his golden face. He runs his large hands down your thighs, massaging slightly as he parted your legs to expose your core. 

“Look at that. I know nobody else makes you this wet,” Beomgyu mused as he laid himself down on your bed so that he was face to face with your center. Your chest heaved in anticipation, carding a hand through his locks as you tried to think up a witty reply. The boy under you didn’t even give you the chance before descending onto you with an open mouth. You pull at his hair as he slips his tongue into your slit and pushes your knees up to your chest to open you wider. Gasps of surprises slip past your lips as he makes short work of licking up everything your body has to offer him before he pulls away to smirk up at you. His face is red and shiny, lips swollen with his efforts and you moan his name louder than you’d like to admit. He chuckles darkly, wasting no time in going back to work, wrapping his lips tightly around your clit and sucking harshly. More arousal gushed out of you as your whines grew louder, more frequent. Beomgyu returns the groans in the form of wonderful vibrations every time you tug at the locks weaved between your fingers in earnest. 

“Please, please please,” you were losing all sense of self, only caring about the magic Beomgyu was working between your thighs until he pulled away and propped himself up on his elbows. 

“Please what? I know you have better manners than that,” his voice was teasing, but the facade only lasted until you bucked your hips up towards his face in need and pleaded again. “I need you. Beomgyu, please, let me come, I need-”  air left your lungs in a high whine as Beomgyu returned with renewed vigor, licking broad stripes right where you needed his touch the most. You could feel the coil in your stomach tightening as you approached the height of your climax, teetering right at the tipping point and contemplating begging for more until you caught sight of Beomgyu’s still clothed hips grinding against the forgiving material of your mattress. The thought of him getting himself off while eating you out was just enough to push you over the edge as you finally let go with no warning, grabbing for Beomgyu’s hair to ground you as the world spun. He didn’t let up his movements until you whined in overstimulation. Beomgyu sat up on his knees, towering over you as you tried to catch your breath. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he wiped the few tears that had welled up in your eyes and pressed a feather light kiss to your sweaty forehead. 

“Beomgyu,” you reached for him as he took the hint to pull you up into a sitting position across from him. There was no time to care about the mess between your legs, or the way your head was still spinning a bit. 

“I love you, too. I forgot to tell you earlier. But I have, for years and I was afraid that you didn’t like me back,” your confession lifted a weight off of your chest and caused his eyes to crinkle up at the corners. 

“Of course I liked you back. I think I’ve loved you since like 2nd grade. And you definitely wouldn’t have made me this hard if I didn’t like you.” Your eyes widened at his bluntness, but you couldn’t stop the mischievous smirk that crossed your face as you glanced down to his lap to see the bulge straining against his jeans. Taking him by surprise with a harsh kiss, you laid him down on his back and ran your hands over his soft skin. 

“My turn?” he teased, putting his hands behind his head casually. As much as you wanted to roll your eyes and walk away from him, your blooming admiration won over your instincts to be bratty to your best friend. His breath hitched as you began to toy with the button. “Your turn.”

[xuxivy]

Dating Kim Taehyung:

I wrote this when I started ulting Tae a bit of over a year ago. Its a bit shitty so sorry, but enjoy! xx

Inspired by: Seasons.

Kim Taehyung, is in FACT the world’s softest, most caring, lovable, unselfish, and peaceful baby boy EVER!!!!

he is so kind towards others, it doesn’t matter if they are to him, and has no bad bone in his lovely body, what so ever.

i said what i said

there is no dull moment with this boy.

he is so giddy and lovable and a ball of just pure happiness and affection that arrived to your life like an asteroid.

in Spring, Tae likes to visit the park and watch the sunset. warm wind and colorful flowers blooming around you.

he likes to paint you under the shade in your backyard, asking you to stay still as he makes what seems hundreds of paintings of you.

he also likes to take candid pictures of you,

praceing around with camera in hand he follows you everywhere

while you take care of the garden, and pick the fruit off your pride and joy of trees.

he likes to visit the shrines every once in a while, right before the tourists start to fill out the place,

he even convinces you to visit daegu for the weekend, buzzing in joy as you and his family get closer each time.

sometimes, if the day allows, you’ll pack a picnic with wine and a cheese platter, maybe include a few sandwiches with the baguette from that french bakery he likes so much.

and will just bask in each others presence, no music since he likes the white sounds of families and dogs around you, makes him feel normal for once in a while.

and you will just sit there, watching as the light casts around his face in just a certain way that makes your heart patter and hands sweat.

ignoring the pretty pink sky as he just takes everything in,

you can see his mouth moving, as he explains something with passion but you just drown out the words,

just...taking him in, wishing to engrave this memory forever.

and he just looks at you with melted eyes, and stars in his smile and just giggles a bit and for a moment,,,

you see god.

Summer consists of you traveling to the beach (sometimes alone, sometimes with the boys) early enough to watch the sunrise,

bc this boy is just obsessed with the sun and the way it paints the sky in a million of ways

til after the sun has set and its dark and the stars are out.

late enough for you to feel the warm air turn a bit cold, as you shiver closer to him, ready to go back to the comfort of your own bed.

it consists of open windows around the house, golden light shining through, curtains flying around in a way they just cast a peaceful aura.

long walks around the city after it has cooled down enough not to burn your feet, maybe even sharing an ice cream if he doesn’t hog it all.

it consists of weekly barbecue dinners at your placed, hosted in the back yard by the grill, cold drinks in the cooler and meat sizzling,

the air buzzing with laughter, the rest of the boys filling seats at the table while they help get the food done.

after too many drinks theres a loud game of cards being played,

loud screams and pointy fingers as Jimin accuses Namjoon of cheating, the latter just cracking at his juniors face,

everyone groaning as Yoongi takes another victory under the belt.

maybe you even go to the waterpark after some begging, challenging each other to see who slides down the fastest.

spoiler: its always him

he will lap around the pool with you on his shoulders, gripping your thighs as you squeeze his head,

egging the other boys to wrestle you, see who can take your competitive asses.

Fall consists of you buzzing around for winter, your favorite season of all.

You go shopping for clothes, helping each other prepare for the freezing temperatures, while managing to look good.

On the cold days you stay home, watching a movie and eating all the snacks you can.

On the warmer days you go out, maybe to eat or just fool around with the rest of the boys.

you make sure to throw a party for halloween, for sure.

Tae cooing at every kid that comes knocking on that day,

just looking at you with puppy eyes, hands grabbing your hips,

“I want one...” “Tae, no.” “Please?”

Winter Tae is the whole purpose of my existence.

The moment Winter sets in, Tae becomes the most needy and whiny baby boy who just feeds on warm desserts and cuddles.

he whines and puffs whenever you pull out of bed to get to work,

pulling the biggest puppy eyes on you, trying to bribe you to stay home,

staying with him under covers,

warm hands and limbs tangled together.

you want to cave, most times you do, but u can’t,

and baby just whines harder.

he whines even harder when you need to go outside,

“tae we need groceries.” “no we don't! theres food here!” “we cant survive off hot chocolate and cake, Tae.” “yes we can.”

even if he hates grocery shopping, or going outside in the cold in general, he stills goes,

only because he know you will buy ingredients to make his favorite winter foods.

maybe you will even learn how to make that beef stew he adores.

after eating to his heart content, he will turn on the heater, ushering you into bed.

he will hug you from behind, nuzzling his head on your neck, arms wrapping around your middle,

thin fingers seeking shelter under your shirt, rubbing circles affectionally into your ribs,

and as you turn around and gaze at each other,

it just takes him a moment to just...take it in.

take you in.

and with love in his eyes, he just feels himself fall in love all over again.

and when his birthday comes closer,

he is showered with love and affection, small gifts and gestures of pure love being pulled.

and every night, as he prays to your gods in between the sheets, he cant help but be grateful that destiny put you in his path,

because god knows,

he wouldn’t enjoy the seasons as much as he does if it weren’t because of you by his side.

[imagine-that-r6s]

50/50 [Thermite (Jordan Trace) x Reader]

(Hi! A little A/N before the story! I know the Rainbow fan population here is short, but I do take requests! I will post the prompt list I took for this one. I will write for any operator! I will do all and any request, for the prompt list, please put the genre (Misc, angst, fluff) as a letter (M,A,F) and the number)

Doc and Maverick anons: I’ll have your requests posted within the next couple of days, sorry for the wait!

Pairing: Thermite x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, minor talk about death 

Genre/Word Count: Fluff (mild angst near the end)/1.3k

You had joined Team Rainbow about 3 years ago. You were a smart, and a natural born leader. You were also a practical joker, playing small, harmless pranks on each and every operator. Even the stern Taina had a laughing fit over your pranks. So you’d think the other childish person of Team Rainbow would get along with you right? Nope. WRONG. Jordan disliked you. But you never understood why. You thought you had started on good terms with the Texan.

Whenever he was assigned to the same practice groups, he would be the one to call you into the wrong hallway, leading to your early elimination and negative report. You were starting to get pissed off. Last week was the fourth time in a row he had done it, you were getting sick of his behavior. This week, you wouldn’t listen to him.

You chose to start off in a different segment of the training map. You stuck with Erik, the quieter one of the hard breachers. The two of you worked closely, eliminating the other practice team rather quickly. It had boiled down to a 2v1. Sadly, your companion had sprung a trap, forcing him to move to the spectators group. It was now down to you and Thermite. You groaned when he shot you a smug smile. 

“Looks like it’s just me and you, let’s hope I get the final kill.” 

“No. Also, I think in a second it’ll just be me left.”

He narrowed his eyes as you both kept moving, “What do you me-” His eyes widened as he spotted the trap he had triggered, signalling the last enemy of your positions. Without practically any effort, you aimed and perfectly shot the ball of paint at their head, ending your practice with a victory. Jordan looked up at you with angry eyes. You smirked and quickly bounded down the stairs to the open area. You ignored the angry call of your name as you regrouped with Maverick. You made small talk with him as you left the practice room.

At meal time, you sat next to Maverick. Surprisingly, you two got along very well, he had never laughed so hard with anyone else. And you had never had anyone stick around as long as he did while you endlessly told shitty puns and dad jokes. You ate while Erik told of a story from his childhood, but had paused to lean down to your ear, “I think someone’s a little jealous.”

He shifted his eyes toward Jordan's direction. Jordan was seated with Emmanuelle and Yumiko. He was glaring at the two of you, but mostly at the taller man seated to your left. “Him? No, he hates me. Hated me since day 1.” “What about you then, I swear sometimes I see you staring at him in wonder.”

Blood rushed to your face as you stuttered to defend yourself, “Yeah, wondering how he’s such a dumbass!” In all honesty, you did have a small crush on Jordan. He was very cute, and the rivalry had caused intrigue. But you didn’t think anything could happen between the both of you.

 At the other table, Jordan watched as Erik had leaned down, brushing his hand to move your hair back so you could hear him better. Yumiko watched as his hands tightened significantly around his fork, “Jordan, what’s wrong?”

“Hmm? Oh no it’s just… those two have been getting awfully close lately.”

“Does our little Jordan have a crush?” 

Emmanuelle chuckled at the thought, teasingly pinching the grown man’s cheek. He slapped her hand away, “I do NOT have a crush on that gremlin!” 

“Oh yeah, sure, yeah no, of course not.” She winked at Yumiko, which fueled Jordan’s statement of denial. For a while he was distracted, until he heard a loud laughter protruding from your table. Erik had caused you to laugh, making water come out from your nose, causing Erik to snort, which made you laugh even harder. 

Without another word, he slammed his fist onto the table and got up, chucking the uneaten food in the garbage before leaving. He let the heavy door hit the wall. The laughter from you and Erik ceased, “See? He’s jealous.” 

You shook your head and finished your meal. As you walked back to your room, the thought lingered on your mind, ‘Does Jordan like me too?’ You sat in bed, thinking over things

 “Why do I like him if he hates me?” 

For the rest of the day, you just slept. By the time you opened your eyes it was pitch black outside, and the clock next to you read 11:43 PM. You certainly weren’t going to sleep for the rest of the night.  

You changed into more comfortable clothes and headed out, spotting the room you searched for. You questioned your own thought process, but at the same time, it seemed perfect. Prank Jordan so he hates you even more so in turn you learn to dislike him too. But as you stood outside his room, you were hesitant. 

You took a deep breath and stepped in. His light snores let you know he was sleeping soundly. You tiptoed around, holding your breath as you grabbed the slim object. A practically fatal mistake. A beefy, bandaged hand held on tightly to your wrist. With a sheepish smile, you tilted your head to the right, “Oh hey buddy… I was just… making sure your alarm works!”

You tugged your arm back, but Jordan seemed to panic as the screen turned on, faced away from you. He sat up, yanking your wrist with one hand as he grabbed his phone with the other, “What the hell were you trying to do?”

“Uhh… find and send an embarrassing picture or screenshot on your phone to the group chat.”

“Fuck off.”

You huffed and stuck out your hand, “You’re right Jordan, I am very irresponsible and my pranks are childish. I swear I won’t try this stuff on you again. I know I should’ve respected your privacy, and shouldn’t have woken you up, because sleep is very important.”

He looked at you in disbelief, but too tired to care, he shook your hand. “I’m glad we have an understan-”

You moved down, gripping on his forearm and yanked him down as you threw your legs over and around his neck, making him fall forward. You snatched the phone back as you sat comfortably on his bed, while he desperately tried to pull your legs away from his throat.

“Like that move? Taina showed me how to do it!” You said cheerfully, looking down as you turned on the phone. What you saw made you pause, and release your tight grip on the poor hard-breacher. 

“Am… Am I your lockscreen?”

“You weren’t supposed to see that.” He rubbed at his throat while you examined the picture. It was you. It was the end of your first mission 3 years ago. After a victory, you had all gone out to eat. In the photo, you had several sauces covering your chin and lips, a sneaky picture. You looked like a 4 year old as you looked around the table in shock, being around so many people you looked up too. Including him. 

“Jordan… why do you hate me?” 

“I don’t. I just didn’t want to get close.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want to risk losing you. You know what happens to people like us in these fields. Every mission is a 50/50 chance of living to see the next day.”

You helped Jordan up from the floor, “I like you too Jordan. And maybe if we went on more missions together, we could protect one another…”

He smiled down at you. “Yeah, I think that’ll work.” 

You tossed the phone on the bedside table. He laid down and dragged you with him by curling his arms around your waist. That night, you slept comfortably. In the morning, you still sent that embarrassing screenshot to the chat.

[vagrantblvrd]

mavinwood with werecat michael would be love

Oh my God, yesssss.

Just like.

Werecat Michael who never admits to being a werecat?

He’s careful with who he tells and everything because people tend to react badly when they realize the world’s weirder than they thought? That there are things and such out there science and logic can’t explain away and also hey, you know. Think twice before inviting some stranger you met at a club inside because vampires are real and that bit is true and anyway, tangent.

So.

Werecat!Michael who is just. So very Michael about being a werecat?

The whole bit with werewolves and other creatures and the lunar cycle isn’t completely untrue - but it doesn’t control their lives. They might get a bit more restless, short-tempered and so on closer to the full moon because it messes with their heads a little but it’s not like the movies say.

But, again, tangent.

Once he learns he can trust the Fakes with what he is he doesn’t bother trying to hide his secret from them but he also doesn’t outright tell them.

Because why would he, is the thing.

Sure, it’s partly to fuck with them because they’re all assholes and he’s no different. Also, it just never occurs to him to do so because it’s not all that important in the grand scheme and such?

Like oh, hey. Sure he can shift forms and turn into a cat pretty much at will, but it’s not like that means anything. (Can’t fucking use a gun or a knife without opposable thumbs - well, okay, there are probably ways around that but a cat would look pretty dumb like that so whatever.)

Anyway, anyway.

Michael who goes about his life like everything’s normal (and to be fair for him it is?) and every so often he just turns into a cat because why the fuck not?

It fucks with his mood when he doesn’t shift forms for a while, has him snapping and snarling more Makes him meaner when he doesn’t have to be or even wants to be.

So.

He runs around as a cat, wanders the city at night and the whatnot. Sniffs around the borders of the crew’s territory to make sure things are alright there. (None of their rivals getting greed or ambitious or whatever.)

Snoops around to see if he can pick up anything interesting in the way of rumors and such to bring back to the crew if it has anything to do with them.

Run around just to run around, kitty parkours his way around the city’s rooftops and alleyways and all that until he runs the restlessness that tends to build up when he’s in his human form for long out of his system.

Before he met Gavin and Ryan he used to go back to the little place he keeps in a quiet neighborhood when he doesn’t feel like using the rooms at the penthouse. (Spent too much time around the others and needs some quiet or whatever the hell and it’s just. Nice, you know, having a place of his own that isn’t a shitty little apartment now he can afford better and all that.)

But he did meet Gavin, and Ryan and it’s just.

Christ, those assholes.

Gavin’s one of Burnie’s people that Geoff poached right under his nose years ago. (Burnie and Geoff bicker about it to this day like an old married couple and goddamn they need to figure their shit out because it’s sad watching them pretend they’re not head over heels for one another, but tangent? Tangent.)

Ryan’s this creepy bastard Michael met way back when. Way before the Fakes, before the whole Mogar thing started or Los Santos heard about the Vagabond.

This idiot on a roof with a sniper rifle in the dead of winter - as much of one as Los Santos ever got, but it was particularly cold that winter. Snow and everything and this idiot, this goddamned moron wearing all black on a snow covered roof of all fucking things.

(Sure, sure, not like anyone could see him from that angle, what with him being on the tallest building around but Jesus Christ, okay.)

He was careful about it back then because who the hell knew if the idiot was the sort to hurt an animal for shits and giggles, but he couldn’t not investigate.

(It always pays to know as much as you can when it comes to what goes on in Los Santos, including idiots like this guy.)

Lucky him (or not, depending on how you look at it), Ryan’s not the sort to hurt animals.

Seemed surprised to see a stupid cat prowling around and started talking to him, because he’d been on that roof or a while before Michael came along. Got bored.

Talked to Michael like he could understand him, which odd but not unusually so? (Some people are just like that, which. Whatever. Means Michael hears things he wouldn’t normally and that suits him fine.)

Ryan isn’t dumb enough to talk about why he’s up on that roof, because he thought Michael was just a cat, sure, but had no idea if anyone else might be listening. (That, and he’s careful as fuck about shit like that, so yeah.)

No, Michael got to hear about how fucking cold it was and how Ryan wasn’t a fan. Like. Snow’s pretty and all? But he was a nice southern boy (only part of that’s ever been true) and wasn’t Los Santos supposed to be warm?

Got to hear about some shitty little car he stole off some poor bastard and the noise the engine was making and did Michael think that meant the engine was bout to explode on him or something?

Just.

Ryan talked a lot about a whole lot of nothing and Michael got to hear all about it.

Started sitting a few feet away from Ryan, overhang of a vent exhaust/whatever those things are called my brain is not working right now out of the wind but found himself moving closer after a while.

Ended up curled up next to Ryan at the end there, paws tucked under him because Ryan was right about the cold.

Didn’t startle when Ryan’s target finally showed and he fired his sniper rifle, no,

Michael looking over when Ryan stopped being an idiot and got serious, his quiet “Showtime,” right before he did his job and whatever poor bastard he was hired to kill got dead.

Michael watched as Ryan packed up after that, quick and efficient and not such an idiot after all. Followed along behind him as he climbed off the roof and made his way over to that stolen car a few blocks over before going his own way.

After that, well.

They just kind of kept finding one another, didn’t they.

Michael out aimlessly wandering as a cat or working for one asshole or another and oh, hey, would look at that. The fucking Vagabond. (Before the name, and then afterward right up until the Fakes approached him for a job and Michael’s life got a little more complicated.)

Gavin happened to Michael a year or two after he started working for Geoff. This little asshole that swept into town with that dumb smirk of his and stupid gold-framed sunglasses and looking like a fucking disaster waiting to happen.

Little idiot who had trouble with not being a complete piece of shit and Geoff fucking loved him. Thought he was hilarious as shit and please don’t kill the fucker, Michael, it’d be more trouble than it’s worth, trust me.

And Gavin, the asshole, latched right onto Michael and never let go. Thought he was hilarious with all his snapping and snarling and never once intimidated when Michael played up that reputation he’d picked up over the years.

Mean fucker, and one hell of an anger problem. Rabid bastard who needed to be put down but Ramsey kept holding out on that one, happy to set Michael loose on the crew’s enemies like a bullet from a gun.

No.

Gavin just ginned and laughed and fucking poked at Michael like he knew it was all for show. (It wasn’t, really, but for whatever reason Gavin’s wasn’t entirely wrong about Michael and goddamn him anyway.)

Gavin’s not as stupid as he acts and Michael knew it even back then.

(Geoff’s made mistakes, had lapses in judgement, but Gavin wasn’t one of them. Talented fuck with a knack for computers and not bad behind a sniper rifle. Prone to making bad decisions - reckless ones - when he wasn’t laser-focused on whatever he was dealing with because he’s smart as fuck and a bored Gavin is a dangerous Gavin.)

Michael found himself looking after the little idiot when he couldn’t be bothered to. Workaholic if they let him be, and once Michael found out he was a goddamned soft touch when it came to cats (or any kind of animal, really) that was the beginning of the end, really.

Because Michael liked Gavin pretty much from the start, right? But he didn’t like the way Gavin would work himself into the ground for the crew or some private project he was working on, didn’t matter.

Hand him something to do and if it was important enough or just interesting enough, he’d go at it until he couldn’t anymore, even - especially - if it wasn’t necessary.

So.

Sometimes Michael would go small and furry and visit Gavin at his apartment or his rooms at the penthouse. Wherever Gavin was holed up working himself half to death for no good reason and Cat at him.

Sprawl over his keyboard or stolen files or whatever the fuck he’d be working on refuse to budge until Gavin took a proper break.

Give him the sad eyes and non-stop wailing until Gavin got off his ass and got something to eat. (Feed Michael, really, but he always forgot to get actual cat food and would make him chicken or eggs or whatever he had on hand and once he started cooking realized how hungry he was and made himself food too, so. Yeah. Roundabout way of doing things but it worked.)

Or he’d just pester him long enough that Gavin couldn’t pretend to ignore him any longer and call it a victory when Gavin decided maybe he didn’t need to go back to his project afterward.

Just.

A whole lot of that over the years, and then Ryan joins the crew and Michael.

Fuck.

Michael still has two idiots to look out for (aside from the others, but tangent). Two idiots who need someone to look out for them and it’s.

A mess, for a little while.

Because it’s easier for him to keep an eye on them with them so close now, but also?

He realizes there are FEELINGS.

Because Ryan and Gavin and oh, fuck, suddenly he realizes why he even bothers looking out for them?

Like.

It started out nice and simple and just. Things got complicated all on their own.

Because he thought it was bad when the two of them had never met, but once they did?

God.

They got along like a house on fire (in every possible meaning) and it was terrifying/fascinating to watch happen because.

One, Los Santos is in very real danger with the two of them. And two? Michael’s stupid fucking heart is nowhere near as confused as it should be.

Because Ryan and Gavin and Michael has no time for love triangle bullshit, okay.

He knows what he wants - or would like, really, but no knowing how they’d feel about things and anyway, anyway, he’s never been that lucky.

SO.

Pretend he doesn’t know what he knows and everything will be fine.

Really.

Only, that bit about his life being a fucking disaster after Ryan and Gavin happened to him and just.

Yeah.

He watches the two of them get all nice and cozy together and figures that’s that, you know? Which is fine, really, because he’s happy that they’re happy and other cliche things.

Doesn’t change the fact they still need someone looking after them because God knows they can’t do it to save their own damn lives and all.

And then there’s. 

Gavin’s overworking himself or Ryan’s off being Ryan for a job Geoff sent him on and someone needs to check in on Gavin.

But.

He doesn’t realize Ryan got back to town early, finished whatever job he was sent on and hightailed it back to Los Santos because he’s spoiled now, you know.

Gets to come back to someone waiting for him instead of an empty apartment and that’s a hell of a lot better than some shitty motel room somewhere. Wroth driving all night to get back to it.

And wouldn’t you know it, Gavin’s playing with a cat when he gets home.

This oddly familiar little bastard he’s known for years now. Kind of grumpy, little bit cranky but soft and sweet and what are the odds Gavin would also know this cat?

Michael is just watching Ryan process things. Also aware of Gavin doing the same and being all oh, fuck in his tiny werecat head because he done fucked up, didn’t he.

Got used to pestering the fuck out of them as a cat because it was easier? Like. He did the same as a human, got them out of their heads or whatever was needed and all that, but it’s always been different when he was a cat.

Because cat, really.

Only now he’s got the two of them giving him these Looks and it might have been different, being around them as human!Michael and cat!Michael, but not as much as you’d think.

Whichever form he’s in, he makes sure Gavin eats and drinks and fucking sleeps. Doesn’t let him get stuck in his head or get (too much) of a swelled head when he’s riding high.

For Ryan, well.

He’s never been scared of the stupid bastard. Wary, sure, before he got to know him because people will surprise you, but he’s never been scared of him.

(Also, the whole looking after him because goddamned idiot and all)

Gavin picks him up - and Michael lets him because what is he going to do at this point, scratch the asshole? - and studies him closely.

Cat!Michael’s not much to look at really.

Brown tabby with white markings and you’ve see one, you’ve seen them all, or however that saying goes.

Still.

Gavin’s looking at him like he’s something special.

Looks over at Ryan who’s gone all kinds of quiet and thoughtful and just as Michael’s about to start squirming out of Gavin’s hold, the asshole starts talking.

Something, something, something about this matter the two of them have been meaning to talk about for a while now. This problem they have because wouldn’t you know it, they’re happy little relationship isn’t quite?

Michael is Conflicted because he shouldn’t be hearing this, like for real?

And while he could slip out of Gavin’s hands and fucking run for it, he just.

Doesn’t.

Lets Gavin pull him close, hold him against his chest while he and Ryan go on and on about this problem of theirs and most of it’s not registering because he’s having a moral and ethical quandary and such?

But then one of the assholes says his name and Michael - the idiot he is - looks right at them.

And Gavin - because of course it was Gavin - grins a little and asks Michael what he thinks about things and Michael doesn’t get it right away.

No.

He just stares at Gavin who looks back, this dumb little smile on his face. then he looks at Ryan who looks.

Well, the bastard looks amused, and that’s as annoying as it always is, until what they’ve been saying finally, finally fucking processes and Michael realizes they’ve been talking about him?

About how they’ve been trying and trying and trying to woo him the past however long, Inviting out on on dates - which, to be fair, neither of them came out and said and he just thought they were grabbing lunch or going to see a movie they were all interested in and so on and oh, fuck, did he catch their stupid somehow?

It’s painfully obvious in hindsight they’ve been wooing him and he’s been so in denial about such a thing ever happening he never realized?

Just.

Pining like an idiot while they’ve been fucking wooing (attempting to woo?) him and wow. wow, he really did catch their stupid not to pick up on any of that.

Oh, and also the thing where they know Michael’s the asshole cat who keeps popping into their lives, but mostly it’s the wooing thing he completely missed.

And then, you know.

Gavin and Ryan being bastards and telling cat!Michael all about how dumb human!Michael is like they’re not the same person to the point Michael’s tempted to scratch the fuck out of Gavin’s stupid couch.

But that would be stupid, because Michael actually likes the couch - it’s super comfy - and also for all the two of them are being assholes about things?

They’re super fucking nervous, scared.

And Michael, okay.

He gets it, he does.

It’s scary as fuck and God knows if it would work, but it sounds. It sounds nice, like something he’d love to make work if they’re willing to try? (And they obviously do, because the wooing thing? So.)

Michael wriggles out of Gavin’s hold and bumps his face against Gavin’s and meows because that’s not a completely terrible idea, this whole relationship thing he’s been talking about? And then he does the same to Ryan, because for really reals, Ryan and just.

Kind of weird, what with Michael being a cat at the moment? But somehow they make it work.

Also, the three of them seeing how long it takes everyone else to realize Michael’s a werecat because they’re horrible, horrible people. >:DDDDDDD

[howtodisassembleyourdeviant]

Once in a Lifetime Ch.5

I can’t find enough RK900 gifs... -_-

"I'm going to go look for them, " Connor looked irritated.

"Has it been five minutes, already?" You regarded him, brow raised. Connor crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against a desk. You both know it hasn't, he probably even set an alarm for five minutes, but every second that went by made him more and more anxious.

"You don't really think Gavin would do anything to hurt Nines, do you?" You finally asked.

"Why not? All detective Reed has ever done is express his dislike for androids, especially Nines and I, " the real question is how you could think otherwise, scoffing at his answer. Were you trying to set him off?

"I don't think you understand Gavin's motives as well as you think you do." Your laugh died in your throat when you met his eyes.

"And you do? Please, tell me what I'm missing." His words had a bite to them that even surprised him, not that he let it show.

"Clearly not your attitude, " you snapped. He should have known aggressive interrogation tactics were the quickest way to shut you down and sour your mood. He knew better than to add fuel to your fire, but he wanted to know why you would trust Gavin, of all people, with Nines and what secrets you were keeping between the two of you. The irritation was likely a result of the terrible news he had gotten from Fowler, mixing with his dislike of the reckless detective that risked his brother's life. You were just trying to help and he was being, as Hank would call it, an "ass". If he wants to get any information out of you, he will have to switch tactics immediately, and possibly back down for now.

"Sorry. I'm just worried."

"I know, just... We all gotta work together on this. You might not believe it, but Gavin does regret how yesterday went down." Connor only huffed out a breath, skeptical of your statement. If so, he has a funny way of showing it.

Gavin and Nines walked back over. Seeing Nines in a different set of clothes was surprising enough, but what really caught you off guard was the juice box he was sipping at. Where did he even get a juice box? How does Gavin know he can have a juice box?

"You two would make shitty parents, " Gavin tossed a small duffle bag, which Connor caught effortlessly. "Those clothes were causing a rash. He also started coughing on the way back. Lucky for you assholes, I know how to care for a kid."

"Shame you don't care for your partners as well." The words were out of Connor's mouth before he even registered they were there. You elbowed him in the side.

"Fuck you, plastic prick!" Gavin looked like he was about to pop off, but decided to storm off in the direction of the break room.

You sighed, "Come on, Nines, we're gonna wait for Connor by the car." You gave him a pointed look before taking the small android's hand and leading him out.

Connor knew what you wanted him to do, as much as he disliked it. He followed after Gavin, finding him leaning against a counter, waiting for the coffee to fill up. The hot headed detective refused to look at him.

"Gavin, I-"

"I don't wanna hear anything from a piece If shit like you, so why don't you just get the fuck out of here, " the man growled, still refusing to look Connor's way. Was that... Were his eyes wet? The android regarded him for a moment, realizing that he didn't know how to handle this. Gavin had never done this before.

"I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT!" The man pushed off the counter, seething. A single tear escaped from his eye, and the realization only seemed to anger Detective Reed further.

"Sorry." Connor murmured, leaving as quickly as possible. Maybe he didn't understand Gavin as well as he thought.

..............

"What about this one?" You held up the shirt for Nines to inspect.

"No." He answered curtly, not even really looking at the shirt. You sighed. Surely shopping for a kid isn't really this difficult. How do regular parents do this?

"You're going to have to choose something, " Connor tried to reason.

"They are too childish." You wanted to bang your head against a wall. It's been almost an hour and they haven't so much as found socks for him.

"You know what, why don't you have a look. We'll be over at the car seats."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Connor's brow was scrunched up in concern. He didn't like Nines being unsupervised when he is defenseless.

"It's fine, this store is specifically for children. They even have security guards at the doors."

"I'm not a child!" Nines exclaimed. He was growing tired of being compared to one.

"We know, but that doesn't change the fact that you are for the time being, so just go find some clothes you can tolerate for a couple weeks and you'll be back to your turtlenecks and trousers in no time." You pinched the bridge of your nose. It wasn't even noon yet and you were already done with this day. "-and Nines, if you don't find something, I will choose for you, and I guarantee you will regret it. If you thought Hank's clothes we're atrocious..." You walked off, not even seeing what the other two were doing. Connor looked to Nines, shrugged, and followed after you.

Nines could do this, he wasn't some helpless kid. Surely he could find something that was at least halfway decent. Looking up, he couldn't help but think that people are stupid. Why would they make the clothes racks so high? Spying a blue sweater, he wanted to see if it was in his size, but he couldn't reach the hanger. After trying to shake it off, he stopped and took a moment, thinking his way around the problem. He tugged down on the sweater a bit before releasing it. It bounced up and off the rack.

Relishing his victory, he was happy to find the sweater was just his size and was soft to the touch. He found some button-up shirts and another sweater, this one in forest green, and even found a black turtleneck. It wasn't much, but his bundle was getting a little heavy. Looking around for the car seat department, he practically jumped out of his skin when a voice spoke from behind him.

"Hi," The little boy shouted from behind him, "my name's Jordan, what's yours?"

"N-Nines, " he shuddered, feeling uncomfortable, holding his bundle a little closer to himself. Conversation was never his strongpoint. Unlike Connor, he only had a basic social interaction program, as they had been working on fine tuning one for him when the revolution peaked. As he was a functional android, he was released without it. He would be lying if he wasn't envious of how easy his brother could make friends.

"That's a funny name. Is it 'cuz you're an android?" The boy blatantly stared at the LED on Nines head. His hands itched to shield the flashing light from the boy's gaze. Are kids usually this... rude? Technically, yes, Gavin had given him his nickname because it was easier than saying RK900, before he had registered a name different from Connor. It was the first sign that their relationship had shifted from animosity to partners. He liked his nickname.

"Jordan?" A woman's voice rang out, prompting both boys to look over to its origin, "Jordan? Jor- oh! There you are! I told you not to run off!" A plump, gaudy looking woman plodded over, spying Nines cowering slightly in his clothes.

"Why, hello there! Jordan, who's your little friend?"

"His name's Nines!"

"I-I see, " she clearly thought his name was weird too. Is this what everyone thought about his nickname? Was Gavin actually being insulting when he started calling him that? No, that didn't make sense. "Are you lost?"

"No, my-"

"Hey Nines! I found something I think you might like!" You came up, Connor right behind you, pushing a cart with several items in it, including the accursed car seat. You spotted Jordan and his mother. "You making friends or causing trouble?" You asked with a smirk.

"Wow, you look just like your fath-..." Jordan's mother's voice trailed down, eyes making contact with Connor's LED. As you took Nine's bundle of clothes and put them in the basket, she could see his LED too.

"Ma'am? Are you alright?" Connor looked to the mother. Her face hardened.

"You should keep your robot on a leash and away from human children! He could have hurt my little boy!" She snarled, grabbing her son and yanking him against herself. You instinctively took Nines and pulled him behind you, squaring your shoulders.

"Only thing hurting your child is your bigotry. Nines' is free to go wherever he wants, and I'm not gonna let some ignorant bitch tell him otherwise! You don't want your son talking to androids, maybe you should keep him on a leash. Already raising him to be close-minded, might as well confine the rest of his world. Now, if you excuse us, I need to go wash the taste out of my eyes." You kept Nines close to you as you walked past, arm across his shoulder, as if you expected the woman to lash out, and from the look on her face, it wasn't exactly unjustified.

"Least I didn't havta buy my man, " the woman mumbled when she thought she was out of earshot.

"Could have fooled me from all that make-up you're wearing. Old hag." You'll be damned before you let that bitch have the last word. The woman took her son's hand, dragging him away.

"Bye, Nines!" Jordan shouted, immediately being reprimanded by his mother.

When she was gone, you dropped down, looking Nines over.

"She didn't hurt you, did she?" Nines shook his head. Not many people harassed him for being an android in his old body. His stony face and piercing gaze kept most away. Even criminals cowered from him. Matter of fact, only Gavin had taunted him, but he saw it more like a small dog trying to act tough, more adorable than annoying. It was... Upsetting to experience this first hand. He also felt bad for Jordan, to be raised in such an oppressive environment.

"No, she didn't do anything. Can we go home?" you checked him once more before you conceded.

"Alright, " you guided him to the cash register, Connor following with the cart behind. Nines was trying so valiantly not to cry, biting his lips as he quietly sobbed. Unable to stop yourself, you hoisted him into your arms, balancing him on your hip while pressing his head into the crook of your neck.

"Shh, shh, shh, shh... You're alright... It's okay..." You spoke gently, rubbing his back soothingly. Nines hid his face against you and weeped.

Connor unloaded the cart, watching the interaction. He was mesmerized. It seemed so natural and if he didn't know better, he would have thought he was watching a nurturing mother comforting a troubled child. He didn't even hear when the teller told him the total.

"Sir?"

"Right." He snapped out of his thoughts, placing his hand on the palm reader and confirming the transaction. He couldn't believe how much everything totaled to. Kamski will be reimbursing him.

You continued to console Nines as Connor set up the car seat.

"I want my old body back, " he whimpered against you, so softly it broke your heart.

"I know, sweetheart, I know. We'll get it back for you, I promise, " Connor nodded to you, informing you that he was finished, "come on, let's go home." Gently, you placed him in the car seat, fastening him in. Nines wiped at his face, trying to calm himself. Before you backed out, you reached for the center console, pulling out a small packet of wet wipes.

"Look here, " his eyes met yours, watching as you smiled at him, softly wiping his cheeks, the coolness of it felt good to his flushed cheeks, "you know, he must like you, the little boy you were with. Why else would he blatantly disobey his mother?" He nodded. That is true, Jordan did say goodbye to him. Surely, he had to know that would upset his mother.

"Why does she hate us?" He asked.

"People always have their own reasons, some self-justification why they are the way they are. We will probably never know why, " his head fell forward, disheartened, but you took his chin in your hand and made him look back at you, "but don't believe that everyone is like that, and people change. You should understand that better than anyone, " you grinned knowingly. Nines cheeks heated when he realized what you were insinuating, cracking a small smile. You ruffled his hair, watching him fight to fix it before climbing out and shutting the door. Connor was standing next to you.

"You're really getting the hang of this, " he smiled, leaning down and kissing your cheek.

"Thanks, " you blushed, "we still need to get to the grocery store. We better move quickly, his model requires an afternoon nap or he'll get cranky."

[totally-incorrect-theatre-quotes]

Festival of Lights (Fanfic)

With the help of several of my wonderful followers (including: @lgbt-fandom-fae @i-was-over-on-the-bench and anons) I was able to write a completely fluffy, angst-free, and hopefully accurately written short story about Lydia celebrating the first night of Hanukkah with Wendy, Wendy’s family, and BJ. 

I cannot thank my followers enough for teaching me about Hanukkah, as a non-Jewish person the last thing I would want to do is incorrectly write about the holiday!

______________________________________________________________

Lydia had met Wendy’s family before. She had gotten to know her parents and her two brothers pretty well in the past two and a half months and she didn’t know why she was so nervous about this particular evening, but when Wendy invited her over for the first night of Hanukkah she instantly worried she’d do something horribly wrong. She had an approximate idea of what Hanukkah was, her family celebrated Christmas when she was growing up but they taught her about other religions. She just wanted to make a good impression because this was the first major family event Lydia had been invited too and she didn’t want to ruin it with her ignorance of their traditions. 

“What can you tell me about Hanukkah?” Lydia asked BJ who was hanging upstairs in the attic with the Maitlands, “Wendy invited me over to her house to celebrate with her family and I have no clue what I’m doing, like I know it’s compared to Christmas but do I get her a gift? If I do what am I supposed to get her? If they pray do I join them or do I just respectfully stand there and listen because I’m not Jewish?”

“Kid you are making a way bigger deal out of this than it needs to be. It’s been a while since I’ve had a real Hanukkah but the worst thing you can do is this.” Beetlejuice gestured widely to her in general, “You freaking out about it is going to make everything so fucking awkward. Think about it, do you think this Wanda is overthinking what she’s gonna do when you invite her over to our humble abode for Christmas?”

Lydia shook her head, she hadn’t even considered Wendy mulling over the details of Christmas. It was just a casual thing in her family, they weren’t even super religious about it, when she was little they went to some church service with her grandparents but that was about it. Mainly it was just a bunch of fun little traditions and being with family. 

“Just follow her lead, and bring me home some latkes. I’d kill for some good ones, my mom was a shitty cook but damn could she make some good latkes.”

Lydia spent the rest of the afternoon casually scrolling through websites on Hanukkah traditions before quickly wrapping the presents she had gotten for Wendy and her family , with the help from Delia, and her dad drove her over to the Blackwood house. Wendy only lived about a ten-minute walk from her house but since it was the middle of December in Connecticut her dad insisted on driving her over. Lydia held the presents wrapped in blue paper anxiously in her hand when he rang the doorbell. Wendy greeted her excitedly with a big smile and pulled her into a welcoming hug. She grabbed her hand and pulled her into the kitchen where Lydia could instantly smell the pleasant scent of potatoes frying on the stove, Wendy’s father yelping when some of the hot oil splashed up from the pan and onto his hand. Her brother Silas was sitting at the table playing a board game with her other Levi who Lydia was surprised was home, Wendy had told her he was in Oregon for a job interview. 

“Mom, dad! Lydia’s here!” Wendy yelled

“Oh, hello Lydia! It’s so nice to have you here, Wendy’s been talking about it all day, she’s very excited you wanted to-”

Wendy gave her mom a look Lydia often gave her family members when they were embarrassing her. She couldn’t help but snicker a little now that she knew Wendy was just as nervous about tonight going well as Lydia was, “I’m excited to be here too!” Lydia set her present down on the table where a few other envelopes and small packages were being stashed. 

Wendy’s father gestured for them to all sit down at the table and handed Lydia and Wendy a bowl of potatoes and asked them if they’d be willing to help him peal some more because he wanted to be sure they had enough ready so that Lydia could take latkes home for her family to try.  Lydia enjoyed the process so much that she ended up helping Wendy’s father fry an entire batch of them, and while hers were more so burned than golden brown he still said they looked delicious. She helped set the table for dinner and everything looked and smelled amazing. For dinner, they had rosemary chicken, latkes, and challah bread which Lydia promptly decided was the best bread that she had ever tasted in her life. Lydia offered to help with the dishes but her parents insisted that Silas and Levi would be more than willing to clean up for them, but judging from the looks they gave their sister it was obvious she must have paid them to do the dishes that night. 

For a while, the family just sat around the table chatting about what was going on in their lives and making polite chatter with Lydia who was now a lot less anxious now that the evening had gone underway. Though Wendy’s family was completely supportive of their relationship Wendy and Lydia kept their physical contact to a minimum, but still managed to hold hands underneath the table. Silas would always groan whenever he saw them doing couples stuff like hugging or holding hands, often teasing them by claiming they were already an old married couple. For a nine-year-old Silas was incredibly sarcastic, it often made Lydia wonder what it would be like if she had siblings but it had gotten to the point where Silas was like an honorary little brother. Lydia didn’t interact with Levi enough to have any kind of relationship with him so any conversation they had that night was pretty awkward in comparison to the casualness Lydia had with the rest of the family. 

“Okay so this part is strange but my family likes to have a contest to see who can eat the most of this one doughnut called Sufganiyot in sixty seconds. They are like super dense and full of jelly, it’s really funny.” Wendy was already doubled over laughing while she was trying to explain the rules, “One time my dad tried to stuff three in his mouth at once and he just got jelly everywhere on the table. It was a sticky mess for like two weeks afterward.”

“Do you have to tell that story every year!” he defended, “You were like six years old I don’t even know how you remember it.”

“Dad how could I forget! I wish I had it on camera!”

Lydia lost the contest miserably, she was only able to eat about two and a half donuts before the timer went off. Silas was actually the winner eating a whole five and three quarters which was extremely impressive considering the next closest had only been able to eat four She probably could have done better but she loved the tasted of them and didn’t want to just swallow them down without enjoying the flavor. Besides the fun part was watching the rest of the family try. Wendy ended up with jelly all over the one side of her mouth. Wendy’s mom, much to her embarrassment, tried to wipe it off before Wendy ducked under her arm and wiped it off herself with a wet paper towel. Silas, feeling extremely confident from him recent victory, challenged everyone to a round of dreidle which later turned into six rounds where chocolate coins Lydia learned were called gelt and small trinkets were added to the pot and the rules seemed to constantly be changing. It didn’t really matter who was winning or losing, she was just enjoying spending time with Wendy’s family. Even Levi was warming up to Lydia, playfully teasing her when the dreidle would land on shin. 

Lydia hadn’t even noticed how quickly the time had been flying by but when she glanced outside the kitchen window it was pitch blackout and the stars were shining in the sky. Wendy stood next to Lydia while the family gathered around the Menorah. Silas, Levi, and Mr. Blackwood were all wearing blue and silver yarmulkes on their heads and bowing their heads respectfully while they began to say the blessing of the evening. Lydia bowed her head respectfully and watched observantly as Mrs. Blackwood took the middle candle that Wendy whispered was called the Shamash and used it to light the first candle. While the first candle was being lit the family sang a blessing in Hebrew by the third repetition Wendy was coaxing Lydia to join them, while she wasn’t perfect with the pronunciation she managed to finish the song along with the rest of the family,  “Baruch atah, Adonai Eloheinu, Melech haolam, asher kid'shanu b'mitzvotav v'tsivanu l'hadlik ner shel Hanukkah”

The Shamash had been placed back in the Menorah and Mr. Blackwood began to sing a blessing that Wendy explained quietly was called “hanerot halalu” which was customary to be recited after the candle of the evening had been kindled. The family smiled at the end of the blessing and Lydia couldn’t help but to feel to the volume of love in the household while they all stood around the now illuminated Menorah. While it was not a tradition she had grown up with it was a memory that she would forever cherish. She reached out fo Wendy’s hand and grabbed it in hers as her subtle way of thanking her for inviting her to join in the experience. After a few seconds, they all sat at the table again and exchanged presents. Levi and Wendy both got cards with a bit of money in the as well as a little bag of chocolates, Silas got a new video game and a dinosaur lego set. Lydia watched beaming as the family opened their presents from her, she even earned a smile from the hard to please Silas when he unwrapped a remote control car she had gotten him. She blushed when Wendy gushed over how pretty the necklace she had gotten her was. She immediately had her father help her put it on and was holding the blue pendant between her two fingers and grinning in glee. Lydia’s face turned even redder when she received a gift from Wendy’s parents, she and Wendy had already agreed to give each other presents on each other’s respective holidays so Lydia was thrown off guard to be getting a gift from the Blackwoods. She gently unwrapped the tissue paper and held the present close to her chest when she saw the little mason jar filled with gelt coins, her own dreidel, and a blessing written in fancy scrawl.

“I know you said you didn’t want a Hanukkah present because you’re not Jewish but my parents wanted to give you a memento to remember your first time celebrating.” Wendy smiled, Lydia rambled about how much she loved it and hugged everyone in the family. For another hour everyone sat around talking, laughing, and celebrating. It came too quickly when Lydia got the text saying he was in the driveway. The Blackwoods refused to send Lydia home empty-handed and they handed her a bag with leftover latkes and sufganiyot. Just like every time they had to say goodbye the two girls were incredibly dramatic, as if they weren’t planning on facetiming later that night, or had plans to hang out at Lydia’s house for Christmas. When they were sure none of the family members were lurking around the corner Lydia tugged on Wendy’s collar and planted a quick goodbye kiss on her lips and hugged her goodnight. 

The whole car ride home Lydia talked her father’s ear off about how wonderful the evening was and how much fun she had. When she got home she searched eagerly for Beetlejuice ready to tell him all about it, she found him in the kitchen ready to light his own menorah she and the Maitlands had gotten him when he mentioned how he missed celebrating Hanukkah. She was grateful that he hadn't finished celebrating for the night, she felt bad not being there on the first night with him but he told her that he honestly didn’t mind if she spent the night with “Williomehnia”, but she still wanted to be there for him too. Lydia joined them and surprised BJ when she sort of knew the words to the one blessing. She played dreidel with him and her family while they feasted on the food the Blackwood’s had sent home with her. She quickly ran upstairs to her room and returned with a silver-wrapped present and handed it to Beetlejuice who was pretending his heart wasn’t swelling with love when he opened it to find a stuffed bear wearing a Hanukkah sweater. 

Exhausted from a busy but amazing day Lydia went up to her room, snuggled up under the blankets with her cats and smiled as she thought about how a lot had changed for her in the past year of her life, and while for a long time she left like her entire family had fallen apart she was filled with pure love and joy when she thought about not only the family she had but the family she had found, and the family she had joined since she had met Wendy.

[love-it-or-its-free]

@dyke-diva

[edited to update pastebin and make links clickable.]

First, just some more context about me: I am a 33 yr old lesbian, butch (in a nerd way) and quite androgynous/GNC.

Until a year or two ago, I was an ardent supporter of trans activism, as it went part and parcel with being a member of the LGBT "Community".

Literally, asking this same question to myself was a turning point for me. I knew I was supposed to hate and denounce anything TERF-related.... but one day I realized, I didn't know exactly what TERFs had supposedly done, that would warrant such seething hatred against them.

Like I said, I comprehend hating Nazis, because I have seen evidence of the unforgivable brutality of the Nazi regime and its supporters. I've taken history classes, read books and original sources, and watched documentaries about it.

Basically, I have seen enough evidence to understand the scope of Nazi evil, so it makes sense to me why some people go around saying "punch nazis." Personally, I'm not the type to punch anybody... and I question whether punching actually fixes the underlying evil... but based on what I know, I totally understand why nazis are so hated.

But why are terfs so viscerally hated that they are directly compared with a mass-genocidal regime? I want to know the truth. If the evidence is out there, I want to see it, to keep my views updated and accurate.

Now on to your response.

I do not believe that you should debate hate groups. I think that doing so will only help spread their hate and

I don't really believe in debating hate groups, either. But I also believe that having a closed mind is a victory for authoritarians of all stripes. I have no problem engaging with people who disagree with me, because I generally believe in having "strong opinions, weakly held" -- I am firm in my beliefs, but my mind is open to evaluating new evidence. If I deem the new evidence convincing enough, I may change my mind or update my views. I value intellectual rigor, so I want to keep my views accurate and up-to-date.

I am severely distressed about the number of terfs in wlw spaces and think that something should be done about it, it has gotten to the point where if it is not stated directly that they do not support transmisogyny that I will often feel paranoid about being in the space.

Honestly, I would love if you could PM me about these "wlw spaces" that are supposedly crawling with terfs. I feel like I'm reading this from a bizarro mirror dimension, thinking... WHAT wlw spaces? Is there really anything like this, outside of a handful of unpopular tumblr tags and a couple of small subreddits?

The only spaces I know of, especially IRL, are bending over backwards to be so "q***r friendly" that actual lesbians are being pushed out. One local activist in my city, started a public speech by claiming, "terfs are lesbians who..." and went on to drag lesbians for not being inclusive enough. Why only lesbians, I wondered??

Singling out and pressuring lesbians that way is not okay, in my opinion. Lesbians deserve to have spaces for lesbian (natal) women only. Lesbians are allowed to be repulsed by penises. None of that is hateful! Lesbians should not be pressured to sleep with anyone they aren't interested in. Unfortunately, I see that happening a lot these days. The "wlw spaces" I know of, offline and online, increasingly pressure lesbians in this way. Not cool.

Now, I can handle those pressures... but I'm really worried about younger lesbians. Being a lesbian is hard enough as it is! We have a right to exist, and to express our sexuality without added pressures.

and finally reason three, trans people who are afab have been seen to dismiss terfs actions and beliefs purely because terfs do not actively threaten their existence like they do amab trans people.

I'm not sure if I follow this part... it seems like you're saying that some FTMs ("trans people who are afab") do not feel threatened by so-called terfs, because the perception is that terfs are more threatening to "amab trans people"? Sorry if I misunderstood, but I would be interested to learn more about this phenomenon either way.

The person who sent this ask had lots of “Terf Safe” tagged posts on their blog and in their likes (though it seems their likes are now private), so I had blocked them, on the post that I made on my @la-joueuse-ultime blog that I quoted above they had asked why Terfs and Nazi’s are being compared, saying “I know about the reasons Nazis are bad, we can study history to see that evidence. But where is the evidence that terfs are comparably bad?” I had responded “@love-it-or-its-free it’s not that their comparably as bad, it’s that they’re bad. They are a hate group that has killed trans people and because of that they shouldn’t get a voice to spread their hate.” I then told them I planned to block them, I had done so and then they sent this ask.

Well, just to be clear, you were the first to interact with my post. It appears that you went looking in terf-friendly tags, found my post, and decided to interact with it. I'm happy to clarify the details of this, but I think your wording makes it sound like I sought you out, when it was actually the other way around. I posted mild terf-friendly content, you directly compared terfs to nazis. I think that's extreme.

I guess it's a good thing I hid my likes, too, because it sounds like you were ready to trawl for "punishable" content. I mean... who among us has not accidentally tapped the heart while on mobile or something? I hope you aren't really intending to police liked content like that.

Now to the actual ask, I believe the reason you can’t find Terfs that have killed trans people is that, well, you’re literally not looking,

I am quick to google anything that pops into my head, so rest assured, I would not pose this question to a tumblr rando unless I had actually attempted to answer it for myself. I'm asking to try and gather more info/evidence on top of what I have seen already.

or you think that they needed to have direct (by direct I mean they physically took part in) killing the trans person. You don’t need to be holding a knife to take part in someone’s death, you can encourage violence against the minority, you can bully and harass them until they take their own life, or you can fight against medical procedures that some of these people need to live. Terfs have done all of these.

Right... but I specifically asked how you can directly compare terfs to nazis. I agree that bullying, etc. is wrong. But I am asking for the evidence you used to make the direct comparison. You are shifting the goal posts here. I'm okay with that shift if you are... because I'm happy to provide evidence of trans activists doing things like sending death threats to terfs (or any woman who is deemed to have "terfy" views) which seems directly comparable to what you are claiming here.

It took a second search to find Terfs encouraging violence against trans women.

I found similarly scant search results... but like I said, I'm willing to evaluate new evidence when I see it.

This post on Reddit (I recommend being careful, tw for violence) is of a screenshot of a Terf stating that “It is a shame that people cannot do this in America” the post contained a picture of a man seemingly attacking a trans-woman for using the bathroom where she was most comfortable to do so. The posts were made on Spinster, a “woman-centric” social media platform that was made by M.K. Fain, a known terf.

So... I'm honestly surprised you would link to that particular subreddit as evidence of anything. But I'll charitably ignore the source for now. What I see, as far as content, is a screenshot of an anon comment on a website. You claim that the comment must be from a terf. Why? 1) screenshots can be photoshopped. 2) Anyone can sign up for an account on sites like that.

Sorry, but this isn't convincing evidence to me. Even if it's real, it's not a death threat, it's not an incitement to violence. It could be "real" in the sense that some troll signed up to the Spinster site just to troll "as a terf". It's just a shitty anon comment. Of course I object to the sentiment behind it (see anti-violence disclaimer to follow)... but I don't believe it stands up as evidence to support your claims.

(aside: I don't want to make this post any longer than it is, but I noticed some not-very-nice comments from that link and collected them in a pastebin here )

Finally, I researched the actual murder case in question. All eight people arrested in connection with the homicide are men... not terfs.

(I'll include this disclaimer here, though I'm bummed out that I feel the need to be pre-emptive/defensive about it:

I am anti-violence. I condemn violence of all kinds. (See above: I'm a softy, not the punching type) I especially condemn murder and homicide, and I do not endorse eye-for-an-eye justice. I want less pain and hatred in the world, for everybody, even folks who disagree with me.

I believe "the Golden Rule" is called Golden for a reason... it's Key! end disclaimer.)

Not only that but I found many articles directly denying violence against trans people, that I won’t link because they were made by terfs for terfs and I do not want to give them a platform. By denying the violence trans people face you are encouraging it, telling the people who enact the violence that they won’t be punished for it.

Yes, "denying violence" sounds like a bad or at least ignorant thing to do. But how is it remotely equivalent to committing violent acts? Unfortunately, if I can't see the evidence, I can neither refute nor accept it.

Trans people have a shockingly high suicide rate, there is no denying it. This article talks about a Terf that targeted a suicidal trans woman to harass, as well as provides a link to an article about Cathy Brennan, one of many who try to directly prevent trans people from seeking medical help.

I read this, but I couldn't figure out the series of events it's describing. I looked around on my own, and found that it seems to be a response to an ongoing feud between Dana Taylor (author of the piece) and at least one other person. For instance, I found multiple blog posts from the "other side" which described Dana Taylor's participation in harrassment and doxxing campagins. Here's one person on twitter, describing their experience with being targeted:

I just googled myself and found this from 5 years ago which said I was going to be watched. I don't think they watched me.

source thread

That's just one example I found. There were many similar tweets and comments about doxxing involving the author of the link you gave. So I'm open to reading more about these incidents, if you have more links. If something bad happened, I would like to understand better. But right now, this at best looks like just one side of a multi-sided internet slapfight.

If you just listened to trans people you would hear story after story of them being attacked by terfs if you just paid more attention you would see them encouraging violence against trans people, and if you just cared a tiny bit more, you’d realize that trans people are human too.

I am listening, or at least I'm trying to listen by asking good-faith questions while trying not to be attacked for it. Are you doing the same, keeping an ear out for stories of terfs being attacked, and listening to their stories?

How would it make you feel if I said, "if you just cared a tiny bit more, you'd realize that terfs are human too." ?

Anyway, that’s the post thank you for being patient.

Same here. I want you to know that I truly appreciate your thorough reply and the time you spent on it.

[lovelylogans]

,,,,can I get some opinions on lorelai, specifically Lorelai's Love Interests?

*cracks knuckles*

i just answered an ask about rory’s main love interests but now i’m gonna go into lorelai’s

quick disclaimer: i have seen s1-s5, read scripts of key episodes of s6/s7. so. let’s get into it.

jason:

jason is literally trash lmao and i Dislike Him. least favorite of lorelai’s love interests. garbage man. if men have one thing it’s the Audacity.

okay first of all his whole introduction to canon was that he wanted to leave the business his dad groomed him for..... to piss off his dad. like. that’s his reasoning. that’s why he wants to go into business with richard. literally just to piss off his dad. Sir You Are Nearly Forty.

and then. and THEN. like his FIRST scene!!!! with lorelai!!!!! is when lorelai is like “hey you shouldn’t have gone behind my mom’s back and planned this business trip when she was planning a party! that’s kinda shitty of you!” and his response was to REMINISCE about their time at summer camp and he’s like “you still hold a grudge” because. BE. CAUSE. he stood up and tipped over the canoe when lorelai was fully clothed, and when lorelai pointed this out, this man. has the AUDACITY. to say. “i remember. green t-shirt, no bra. trust me, i was the hero of cabin five for the rest of the summer.”

GROSS. GROSS GROSS GROSS GROSS GROSS. FUCK MEN. as if THAT isn’t gross enough he came up with the nickname “umlauts” because her nipples were showing through her shirt!!! diSGUSTIN!! men! are! nasty! and literally less than TEN one-sentence lines later he ASKS HER OUT.  

and then literally the rest of his character is basically just “business.” like. that’s it. when he takes the day off to come to stars hollow literally almost the Entire Time he’s focused on business calls and not on lorelai, his girlfriend who he came to spend time with. and then when richard, being a Shady Bitch, double-crossed him and went back into business with his dad, jason wanted to SUE HIM??? BRO???????? YOU STILL EXPECTED LORELAI TO STICK WITH YOU WHEN YOU ARE SUING HER FATHER?????????

this doesn’t even go INTO all the other stuff about hidden relationship and they’re literally dating just bc it pisses off their parents, it’s just. jason sucks. dude sucks. don’t like him. not one bit.

christopher:

i have..... complicated feelings toward christopher. to steal a quote i saw from twitter when someone was like “he knows lorelai so deeply!” they said “he knows her past, it doesn’t mean he knows her.”

so, like, on one level. i think that christopher was a bad dad to rory. right. like, he isn’t a good dad. i come from a home with split up parents, so, like, i understand the complexities there, but. he wasn’t a good dad. he just wasn’t.

that episode in season one? it’s the first time he comes to stars hollow. the. first. time. in sixteen years he has never gone to see where his daughter (and friend/romantic interest) lived, which follows: he hasn’t been to any of her parent/teacher nights, he’s never gone to any of the performances she was in as a child, he’s never participated with her when it comes to town events that she’s so passionate about (being a pilgrim, all the things taylor lists when she turns down being ice cream queen, etc) he wasn’t there. he wasn’t there for all the small moments that make up being a dad. no helping with homework, no sitting with her and listening after a long day, no actual parenting—no being there when she’s sick, no disciplining her if she does something wrong, no being there to celebrate her victories. he isn’t a good dad to rory. he has his occasional moments (he starts calling her more often post that visit, but it drops off again post-sherry) but all in all? not a good dad. i would go far as to say “deadbeat dad” as the first significant financial help he offers, that we see in canon, is him paying for yale. not helping with chilton, or any other childcare costs.

that’s an important factor when it comes to evaluating him and lorelai. because, quite honestly? i think that if rory didn’t exist, christopher and lorelai would have been firmly in the realm of “we dated in high school.” maybe a former flame that gets a fling when there’s a high school reunion. but since rory exists, they’re tied together forever, and therefore those feelings keep cropping up and flourishing (esp in situations when they shouldn’t) and they’re so stuck in the past.

i think that teenage christopher and teenage lorelai are well suited. i don’t think adult christopher and adult lorelai are well suited. lorelai had to grow up very quickly when she had rory, so she got a job, settled down in stars hollow, and put in the work of being a responsible parent who provides for her child. christopher doesn’t start keeping a job until s2/s3, he’s still very much stuck in the past. his pursuit of her is almost entirely rooted in nostalgia, as is her returning interest. they keep coming back to each other because it’s comfortable, it’s what they know. but once they look past that lens of nostalgia, their compatibility kind of falls apart. christopher is still immature in general (getting angry over the character reference she writes for luke, getting drunk at emily and richard’s vow renewal and basically shoving himself in the middle of their relationship like “but THE OOOOOLD DAAAAYYYS” and that WHOLE storyline of where he turned off his phone and ignored lorelai’s calls when richard had a heart attack, do NOT get me started) and lorelai is very independent and she likes her life where it is and how it is.

so to sum up: christopher and lorelai’s relationship is almost entirely doomed to fail because they can’t remove their rose-colored glasses when it comes to their (mutually romanticized) past together, and when the glasses are knocked off, they aren’t compatible. they just aren’t. what ties them together is that nostalgia, where they’re most natural is when they’re joking and being friendly (like the old times!) and when it turns into a romantic relationship, reality is too much for that tenuous connection to handle.

luke:

OBVIOUSLY i am team luke. this is the ship i’m most dedicated to within the gilmore girls fandom. he’s there for her, they push each other to become better (lorelai keeping his father’s boat, for example, and him encouraging her throughout the opening of the dragonfly) they have that Longing and Yearning. they have amazing chemistry, they’ve been crushing on each other since SEASON! ONE! and honestly they are fantastic when they work together.

i will say that they have their issues, and it almost entirely boils down to lack of communication.

if lorelai had communicated the occasions in which she had seen chris, luke wouldn’t have been so caught off-guard at the vow renewal and cut off their relationship. if luke had communicated about april’s existence with the full honesty that he didn’t know about her existence, lorelai, as a mother, as someone whose child’s default father figure is luke, would probably take some time but ultimately understand the importance of a child. they should have communicated about the wedding being too soon, and all their other issues. that bickering that makes their flirting and crushing so great also gets in their way sometimes; it’s hard for them to have a serious conversation without lorelai deflecting or luke shutting down. honestly i think it would have been great if they’d gone to couples therapy (okay, look, almost everyone in gilmore girls needs therapy, including emily and lorelai, so i’m glad that at least that one got tackled somewhere in canon) and it would have really helped fix that main problem.

frankly, i think a lot of their problems are bc ASP and the other writers wanted “drama.” which fair, it’s a tv show, but frankly leave the drama to rory and there are other ways to manufacture drama other than breaking up your main couple: dragonfly drama, for instance, or liz and tj and jess, or dealing with rory’s dramas, or something like the emily and richard and luke drama but sustained to a point where it causes a similar family fight that might have even paralleled lorelai leaving the gilmore household for someone she loves, and seeing that relationship knit up. like i get this show was in the 2000s but honestly let the couples actually Be Together!!! let them explore those dynamics!!! the whole “break them up, put them back together, break them up, put them back together” thing is tired and it seems unrealistic. like!!!! luke says “i’m all in” to lorelai and less than like TEN episodes later he’s like “it’s too much. this relationship is too much.” LET THEM WORK THROUGH THEIR STRUGGLES AS A COUPLE AND LET THEM C O M M U N I C A T E. LET THEM!!!!!

otherwise? iconique. the Flavor. the taste. the vibes are immaculate. chef’s kiss. luke/lorelai is So Good. their chemistry is unparalleled. their support of each other unmatched. 

i can’t really remember any other love interests lmao OH SHOOT

max medina:

lol forgettable uh, i think that he and lorelai had an interesting partnership, but it clearly wouldn’t have worked out to the point of a wedding, which i feel like lorelai knew because she kept holding back on actually answering him for the proposal after the s1 finale. i think that his dynamic could have also really been utilized to play with the dynamic of lorelai re-entering her parents’ world and the different expectations that that maintains; i don’t think it should have gone so far to, like, proposal, i think it could have been maintained then max wanted to get serious and lorelai hesitates and pulls something similar to the show. anyway, interesting first love interest for lorelai, also helps ground the world of chilton, so nice little twofold purpose for max there

i will say his proposal was super cute tho the thousand yellow daisies thing was Excellent

[justanotherdumbfanfictionbl-blog]

Sadness

It was just supposed to be another shitty day at Riverdale High but your world is turned upside down when the schools bad boy and the captain of the football team both take an interest in you. What will you do? Go after the loner you’ve liked your whole life or will the captain steal your attention?

Sadness - Chapter 2 // C1 // C3

The Game

Clothes scattered across your floor, unable to see the soft grey carpet that lays underneath, you let out a groan of frustration what the fuck am I going to wear? You think to yourself scanning the room for even the most basic pieces of clothing, then you spot it, your my chem sweet cheers band tee with a long sleeve mesh shirt hiding behind it, everything clicks, you’ve found the perfect outfit and it’s only 6:15, plenty of time to change and head back to school for tonights football game. Putting the mesh shirt on underneath your band shirt you pair it with a pair of classic black skinny jeans, platform black lace-up boots, leather jacket and a black beanie to hide your messy hair from the bun you wore earlier that day. It was simple but eye-catching, exactly what you’re looking for. You leave your make-up alone, doing minor touch-ups here and there and finally, you’re ready, with 20 minutes to spare. For the first time in your life, you’re actually excited to go to school, granted it’s for a football game and you’re only going for the boys, not the team spirit but hey, it counts. 

Stomping down the stairs in your platforms you head to the living room to find your parents sat together on the couch watching TV, “I’m going out” you mumble, poking your head around the door, just enough to see your face, “okay sweetie, have fun and be careful” your mum replies with a smile, you nod in understanding and head to the door yelling a quick “Bye, love you!” as you leave, hearing them shout it back as you shut the door. 

The cold air nips at your skin, reminding you how cruel a chilly night can be, maybe I should have worn a better jacket, you think to yourself as you wrap the leather tightly around your body, kicking yourself for not at least bringing a scarf, but at least it’ll all be over soon, putting your earphones in you blast your favourite emo playlist to at least try get you in the mood. 

Walking fast, you try to avoid being alone on the streets in the dark, even if it is only Riverdale you never know who or what is going to come wandering through the city. Within minutes you were in enveloped in the music, so much that you didn’t even notice the loud footsteps behind you, getting closer and louder with every step. The shadow of the mysterious figure coming into your line of sight too late, they threw their arms around you, locking your arms by your sides as you let out a blood-curdling scream, throwing yourself left and right in an attempt to break free, they lift you up, giving you the opportunity to swing your legs back, hitting the repeatedly in the legs and knees, praying that someone, anyone will notice and try help. 

The stranger takes two steps back as you continue to struggle, they swing you both around to face the way you came, a van waiting down the road. Adrenaline begins to kick in as the reality that you might die tonight clouds your mind and you do the only other thing you can think of at that moment. Lunging forward, you suddenly throw yourself back, tilting your head as far as you can in an attempt to break the attacker's nose, hoping they’ll release you and it works, the arms locked in place around your body now covering the strangers face as they bend over, screaming in pain as blood seeps through there fingers, you freeze for a second, wide-eyed and stunned that the plan worked, you try to get a look at your attacker but can only make out the basic features and build as the darkness cascaded over them. Without a second thought, you take off down the road, ripping the remaining earphone out so you can listen out for more footsteps, too scared to look back, you run and don’t stop until you get to the back of the school, hundreds of teenagers fill the stands as they eagerly wait for the team. You’re safe, for now at least. Letting out a sigh of relief you lean against the stands, catching your breath, looking around furiously as others watch you, whispering about why the fuck you look like you’re going to pass out. After a few seconds, you collect yourself and make your way to the front of the stands, descending up the metal steps, ignoring the glares and find a seat at the top, away from others.

It wasn’t too long before the game started and the crowd roared as the team ran out onto the pitch, Archie at the front, of course, football in hand. The girls all screeching around you as the boys barked liked rabid dogs, almost deafening, rolling your eyes at the enthusiasm you give them a small clap, to at least try show some kind of school spirit. Seconds later the rival football team come running out, the crowd sat on the other set of bleachers roaring with pride as their team make there way onto the field. You scan the crowd, looking for the fair-haired boy with the beanie, hoping he’s somewhere in the sea of people, too distracted to notice Archie watching you, brows furrowed as he tries to figure out what or who you’re looking for. You’re suddenly brought back to reality when the crowd screams, the game has started, turning your attention to the game, you watch as teenage boys tackle each other, the pig-skin flying through the air, causing more screaming from both sides. What the fuck is going on? You think to yourself, trying to understand, it was useless. 

Two hours pass by, still no sign of Jughead, you start to regret coming out and question if you should call it quits and go home. Right as you go to stand, ready to get out of there someone sits next to you, you freeze for a moment, unsure of who the hell would wanna sit next to the weird girl. Looking up and to your right, you’re greeted with a smile from a tall boy, it’s Kevin. You force a smile back, disappointed that it’s not who you wanted it to be, “hey Y/N, have I missed anything?” he asks, glancing over at the pitch, you shake your head. “Nah, it’s just a lot of back and forth, nobody has scored as far as I know” you huff, fed up of the situation, he nods, noticing you aren’t exactly in the mood. “So, have you thought about joining the musical this year?” Kevin asks, sparking another conversation, “I don’t know, I’m not really into acting or singing” you answer, eyes glued to the pitch, “that’s fair, I do think it’ll be fun though and Archie’s joining this year” he smirks, as if it would suddenly peak your interest. Glancing over you let out a light chuckle, amused at the idea of the captain of the football team singing and dancing, Kevin smiles, you’re not exactly one to laugh. It was nice for him to see. 

The game starts to come to an end, 5-3, the crowd are pumped up knowing the captain will get the team another win, the pressure is on as people sit on the edge of their seats, knees shaking as everyone concentrates on every move Archie makes, less than a minute left, it’s all or nothing. He charges down the feel, ball gripped tightly in his arm as sweat drips down his forehead, the path is clear, he’s confident he’s going to make it. A member of the opposing team notices, charging towards him at full force. Everyone panics, including you. Then out of nowhere another member of the team tackles the opposing member to the floor with a loud thud, they both skid across the field as Archie charges around them. Tripping over, he slides across the last few inches, extending his arm out with the ball in hand, everyone stands, silent, waiting for the referee. He calls it and the crowd goes insane, screaming and cheering as Archie stands to his feet, his teammates charging towards him, throwing their helmets across the field without care before lifting him onto there shoulders bouncing and cheering with victory as Archie smiles, searching the crowd for someone, searching for you. You smile and clap, feeling a little bit of team spirit but not wanting to make it too obvious. He soon spots you, making eye contact and smiling, his cheeks turn a darker shade of pink, looking down he chuckles, unable to wipe the grin from his face. He’s happy you came, admittedly, so are you.  

Once the hype began to settle, cheering turned to chatting as students made there way down the bleachers and towards the exit. Both you and Kevin stand, commenting on the last goal, he makes a comment about how good Archie looks in his jersey, you laugh and shake your head, refusing to comment. Making your way the bleachers, you’re stopped by Cheryl and her rodents “so, are you two ladies coming to my after party or what?” she asks glancing between you and Kevin with a mischievous look on her face, she was up to something. You shake your head “no, I’m going home, my bed’s calling my name” you answer smirking at Kevin as he looks at you, mouth agape, “what, you have to go!” he yells as Cheryl nods in agreement, adding “the after parties are the best part, you get to drink, dance and flirt with hot guys!” Cheryl agrees, “I’m not taking no for an answer, so I’ll see you there” she states before blowing you both a kiss and walking away, you wave your hand in the air, destroying the imaginary kiss as Kevin giggles. 

“I’m not going” you state once Cheryl disappears into the crowd, he playfully slaps your arm as you both start walking again, “you have to, I have no one else to go with” he almost pleads as you sigh, knowing there isn’t really a way out of it, “fine but I’m not staying long” you grumble as he shrieks with excitement “that’s the spirit Y/N, now lets go make some mistakes!” he grins as you giggle, regretting saying yes.

This is going to be a nightmare.

[imagines-dreams]

Selfish - Connor Murphy Imagine

Rating: G

Warnings: no kisses or actual romantic relationship with Connor, fluff, I don’t think it has a plot

Summary: Both you and Connor were the freaks of high school. While Connor was labeled as the insane freak, you were labeled as the writing freak. You had a notebook everywhere you went, and everyone knew you had a book in the works for forever. Naturally, after you and Connor met, you became best friends.

Word Count: 1407

Notes: This is a day in the life of a writer!SO and Connor and is based on  Connor Murphy with a Writer S/O Headcanons (Part 2), which I wrote forever ago. Enjoy!

You had an idea. Whether it was a brilliant idea or dumb idea, you had yet to see. You were a writer, and you wanted to write a book. You had been working towards that goal for so long, but no matter how dedicated you were to that one rough draft, inspiration could strike at any time, even if had nothing to do with your draft.

When that happens, you had to write it down. You had to get the idea down on paper, review it later, and hope that you could come back to said idea later. Most of the time, you ended up spending so much time with the new idea that you forgot about the rough draft waiting for you, but you were weird. You were a writer after all.

You dug through your locker and glanced at your phone. It had been six minutes since you excused yourself from class, so you had a few more minutes to grab your notebook and get back.

You cursed as papers and books fell from your locker.

“An idea?”

You nodded. “That obvious?” You ignored the mess on the ground and continued looking for your notebook.

Your best friend and chosen editor rolled his eyes and bent down to pick up your stuff. “You do realize most of your ideas you deem shit after you write them down, right?”

“Well, superman, I still have to write them down. Yes!” You grabbed your notebook and kissed the cover. “Victory,” you whispered.

“Freak.”

You nudged Connor in the ribs harshly. “You know it.” You grabbed the books and papers he handed to you and shoved them back in your locker. “Saved me again, Superman.”

“They’re papers, (Y/n).”

You shrugged, closed your locker, and walked as you wrote in your notebook. Connor stayed by your side and made sure not to glance at your writing. You had shared many things with Connor, but he knew that you hated it when people read your work without permission. “Find out if it’s a good idea yet?”

“Don’t know. It won’t even work with my current draft.”

Connor laughed. “Then, you need to write a summary and close the book. You need to finish your draft.”

“Let;s hope.” You inhaled through your teeth and finished writing. “Done!” You turned to Connor. “Park after school?” you offered.

“It’s not like we’ve been going to the park every fucking time after school for the last five fucking months, but yes.”

You laughed and shrugged. “I just wanna make sure you’re still my best friend. Can you blame me?”

He raised his eyebrow. “Actually yes.” He gestured to himself. “Look at me. I should be the one asking you that. Still my best friend, freak?”

“Jerk.” You shook your head with a smile and playfully punched his arm. ‘See ya at the park.”

“See ya.” Connor gazed at you as you disappeared into your class. His lips curled into a small smile. How were you still his best friend? He wasn’t sure. But, he was damn sure that he would cherish every moment he had with you.

After school ended, you stared at your notebook and flipped through the pages. After years of making mistakes in writing, you had gotten into the habit of seeing your incomprehensible scribbles on the pages. You pursed your lips and read through your ideas. A lot were horrible, cliche, overused. But, there was one that actually made sense.

You tilted your head and wrote down more notes on the idea.

Connor finally found you in the crowd of students, and he audibly cursed when he saw you with your nose in your notebook and bumping into everyone. Pushed people away so he could walk in front of you.

You sensed your best friend’s presence and linked your arm through his. You held your notebook with one hand while the other kept on writing.

Connor laughed a little and led you to the park. Only when you were seated on the park bench did you slip your arm from Connor’s and finished your idea. “Done,” you breathed out. You handed him the notebook. “Read from here to there, and critique me.” You turned around so your legs were on the bench. You leaned back so you rested on Connor’s side. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes.

Your best friend read over your work. After a few minutes, he said, “It’s actually pretty good, but you’re completely disregarding your side character.”

You got up from your relaxed position and grabbed your notebook. “Which one?”

For the next thirty minutes, Connor and you discussed alternatives to your plot and how to include all characters sensibly. You smiled and jotted down the conclusion the two of you reached. “That’s some amazing editting, Connor.”

He shrugged. He pulled a book from his backpack. “Also, found this. I don’t like romance novels, so maybe you could use it.”

“I’m not writing a romance.”

Connor eyed you. “You can’t get an agent without the fucking romantic subplot, (Y/n). This will help.” After you took the novel from his hands, he added, “Plus, if you read a lot of romance, your romance subplot won’t be as shitty as everyone else’s.”

You read the description on the back. “You’re actually right.” You blinked. “Wait, you found a romance novel in your room, Connor?”

“No! Those things are so fucking cheesy.”

“Connor, do you read romance?” You giggled. Connor Murphy, your best friend and smoker and genius and everything to you, read romance?

Connor blushed and pushed you away from him. “Shut up, Freak.”

You laughed. “Wait, so you do read romance novels?”

Your best friend retreated into his hoodie and slumped on the park bench.

“Oh, Connor.” You pulled back the hood and smiled. “Dude, it’s fine if you do.”

Connor turned away from you and put his hood back up.

“Connor,” you whined. You pulled back his hood, and out of pure stupidity and impulsiveness, you kissed his cheek. “I think reading romance novels makes you more awesome than the you I knew a minute ago, ok?” You laughed. “Plus, now you can tell me if my romance subplot is shitty, and that makes you a better editor.”

Your best friend peered up at you from under his hood. He humphed and crossed his arms as heat pooled in his cheeks. He could still feel your lips on his cheek. “This is embarrassing,” he muttered.

You snuggled into his side. “Fine, we’ll talk about something else.” You stared at the nearby playground. “Talk about the day?”

“My day was bad.”

You pursed your lips. “Swings then?” You sat up. “I’ll race you?”

Connor was off the bench before you. “Eat my dust, (Y/n)!”

“No!” You screamed as you ran after him. “You’re too tall! Connor!”

After you sat on the swing next to his, Connor took his time to observe you, his best friend. You were beautiful, so much that you took his breath away. And that was on a school day after you had run to the swings with dirt on your shoes and pants. What more if he saw you before a party or after you had spent an additional hour getting ready? How was he going to handle you if something like that happened?

Connor averted his gaze as he felt his cheeks burn again. Of course, the girl he falls in love with is his amazing best friend. The girl with a future. The girl who knew him in and out. The girl who supported him no matter what. Connor just didn’t think he deserved you. As a friend or otherwise.

“Connor?” you asked. You knew the boy well enough to know when dark thoughts rolled in. “Hey?” You brushed back his long hair and smiled. “Connor, everything ok?”

He blinked. “Yeah.”

You tilted your head. After a moment or two, you kissed his cheek again. “I’m glad you’re my best friend, Connor.”

His eyes widened slightly. Then, his lips settled into a small grin. “You’re going soft, (Y/n).”

You shrugged. “I might be soft, but it’s still the truth.”

Connor laughed a little. Ok, maybe he didn’t deserve you, but he was selfish. That was something he could live with. If being selfish meant spending as much time with you as possible, he was going to be the most selfish person on the planet.

Still not accepting requests or writing the requests I got, but I am riding out some ideas I’ve had for a while. This is one of them! Hope you enjoy uneditted fluff!

[andinewton]

Second Chances - Avengers Redemption Series - Part One Chapter 70

Characters:  Loki, Maia Tomson (OFC), Sigyn, pretty much everyone from the MCU appears at some point, including some special appearances by members of the X-Men!

Pairings: Loki x Maia Tomson, Loki x Sigyn,

Warnings:  Smut, so much smut, violence, swearing; listen, it’s NSFW and 18+, just bear that in mind!

Word Count: 179105

Summary: Loki has been handed over to The Avengers to pay penance for his past crimes, underpowered and underwhelmed by his post he is assigned a new ‘guide to Midgard’ by his superiors and is more than a little surprised when a petite freckled, redhead is waiting in the conference room, not at all like the previous handlers he has been assigned, who quit after a very short time with the snarky god. Maia Tomson is a trained literature teacher and counsellor, maybe not someone you would have picked out to be a guide to the God of Mischief but her mentor, Charles Xavier, knows she likes a challenge, and when The Avengers ask him to recommend someone she is top of his list. Surprised by the assignment, Maia takes it on, promising to do her best, but was not counting on a mutual attraction with her charge.

Join Loki on a journey to discover that his heart is not as frozen as he believes it to be, an adventure spanning almost a millennia of love gained and lost and rediscovered in the most unlikely of places…

Master List

Chapter 70

Summary:  Loki keeps his promise and they see the true face of the mystery magic user.

Loki caught her before she could fall far, moving beside her so he could hold her to him. The last of the tears leaked from the corners of her closed eyes and he carefully wiped them away. He knew their captor couldn’t be far so he needed to be quiet and he put up a barrier in the hope it would detract from the power he was about to call. First he laid her carefully, head in his lap, and looked her over. How he could expect her forgiveness he didn’t know but healing her, doing as he promised, had to be a start. He unbound the belt from her wrist and sucked in a breath through his teeth as he saw the damage, the cloth she had bound it with peeling back skin that had been burnt; her arm swollen, blistered and misshapen. He had no doubt it was broken and could only imagine how much pain she must have been in, and yet she had carried on.

‘My beautiful, brave girl.’ He murmured as he sent healing energy through her, repairing the wrist first then onto her feet. Once all he could see was healed he paused long enough to put her in the armour he had the previous day, offering her protection, and a sword identical to the one he had had made for her back in the early days. She was healed and armed, he just had to return the magical energy she had used. He bowed his head and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, knowing it may be the last time he got to do so, then fed energy to her, feeling her breathing soften. She didn’t waken, nor had he expected her to immediately, but it shouldn’t be long. He settled back to wait, sending out an invisible doppelgänger of his own to scout the area, stroking her hair while guilt filled him. It wasn’t long before Sigyn began to stir. Her hand came up to rub her eye then she opened them, finding herself laying with her head in Loki’s lap. She had a moment where she sighed, and everything was okay, but then the situation came back and she sat up quickly, moving away from him. She checked herself over as he watched her silently. Nothing hurt and she felt as though she could take on anything. Except him and how he made her feel. ‘Thank you.’ She said quietly. He nodded. ‘The cloak over the area extends about ten miles further north, over forty miles behind us. We are nearer to the edge than the centre.’ ‘Can’t you bring it down, now that you’re powered?’ She asked as she looked at the broken cuff on the floor. He actually hadn’t left her, he had done as he said, and her wrist felt so much better. ‘If I could find the source, however over such a wide area it is difficult to do so.’ ‘Makes sense.’ ‘How did you break your wrist?’ He asked again. If whoever had taken her had done this damage he would ensure they suffered before he killed them. ‘Doesn’t matter. Are we going?’ ‘It matters to me.’ ‘Are you trying to convince me of that, or you?’ She crawled towards the entrance but he rested his hand on her shoulder. She didn’t pull away and he saw that as progress, a small victory in itself. ‘I do care, pet. No matter what you think.’ ‘That’s the most realistic nickname you’ve called me.’ He frowned at her. ‘Pet?’ ‘Yeah. Something you adopted while it took your fancy.’ She finished the crawl out of the hole as he sighed. So much for progress. She straightened up and looked around. The sun was higher in the sky now and she realised how thirsty she was, the metallic taste in her mouth unpleasant and rusty. If they were ten miles from help then she could manage, she would survive. If they found another stream or a river she would quench her thirst but she wouldn’t ask him for anything. He came out of the hole behind her, standing close behind her to the right. ‘I’ve had a double checking the area, no one has passed this way. There seems to be no sign of your captor.’ ‘Good. Because I can’t promise I won’t…’ she put her hands on her hips and found herself armed, but not with the kitchen knife, with a short sword identical to that she had in her previous life, down to the green stone in the hilt. ‘You armed me?’ ‘Of course.’ He said simply. ‘We should head out.’ She nodded and held her arm out, suggesting he lead. Had it been another time he would have taken her hand, but it was no longer his, so he instead he went ahead of her, cutting a path through the densest part of the undergrowth. ‘If you have your power back is there not something else you can do?’ ‘I would not wish to draw attention to us. We must do this the old fashioned way.’ He offered her his hand as he climbed onto a large moss covered boulder. ‘Fine.’ She said, ignoring his hand and climbing up beside him. He couldn’t help but smile slightly at her sheer stubbornness. They walked for another hour before Loki stopped and called up a canteen of water, passing it to her first before he brought up two apples. She glared at him, holding the canteen and he gave her a patient look. ‘You will be unable to give me daggers if you pass out from dehydration. Please.’

She knew he was right, but hated the fact she had to rely on him for this. She opened the flask and took a sip before passing it towards him. ‘Take more, Sig. I can always refill it.’ She sighed and did as he suggested then exchanged the bottle for the apple he offered her. ‘Are you now not talking to me?’ ‘I can’t think of anything to say that doesn’t start with fuck you.’ She admitted before taking a bite. ‘Fair enough.’ He shrugged. He couldn’t argue with her. He was rather ashamed of himself for the way he had treated her, even if he did have good intentions. ‘We are making good time, perhaps another hour and a half and we should reach the edge.’ ‘And then Thor and co to the rescue, right?’ ‘Indeed.’ ‘Then I can go home and never have to see you again?’ ‘If that’s what you wish.’ ‘That’s what you wish.’ She reminded him, walking ahead of him. ‘Sig, please.’ He caught her wrist but she wouldn’t face him. ‘Let go.’ ‘Not until you listen to me.’ ‘I did that. Not doing it again.’ ‘I didn’t mean what I said, I just wanted to protect you, you have to know that. We were being watched and I couldn’t let this magic user see how much you mean to me, but I already had. Please, believe me, Sigyn.’ She turned, pulling out of his grip. ‘I’m Maia, you made me Sigyn, you made me think I was something I’m not, that I could be more. It was all lies, all of it. I’m a teacher, a pretty useless mutant and quite frankly a shitty judge of character. I should never have listened to you.’ She started walking the way they had been heading but he caught up with her, grabbing her upper arm, tighter this time so she couldn’t break his hold, turning her to face him. ‘You can’t believe that?’ ‘You made me worthless, Loki. You made me question every decision I’ve made, every thought and feeling I’ve had. I don’t know what’s me, what’s Sigyn, if I can even trust my own judgement.’ ‘I love you.’ He stated, as though it would help, but she sighed, her shoulders slumping. ‘I’m not the woman who needed to hear that any more. You’ve lied about so much I can’t tell whether you mean that, or that you meant what you said at the compound. I can’t trust myself and I sure as hell can’t trust you.’ ‘Tell me what you need, love, tell me what to say to make this right?’ ‘Let me go.’ She sobbed, her eyes brimming with tears. ‘Never.’ ‘He was never right for you.’ Another voice joined them and Loki spun towards it, keeping Sigyn at his back. The Loki with the shorter hair and black armour, came through the trees. ‘He never loved you like I did.’ ‘Oh shit.’ Sigyn breathed, stepping to the side, realising why this Loki looked like he had hundreds of years before. ‘What did you do?’ ‘What I had to.’ ‘You were a fool then and you’re a fool now!’ She spat as her tears dried up in fear and anger. ‘You’re the fool! I changed, to give you what I thought you wanted. I left to become what you desire!’ ‘Who is it?’ Loki asked quietly. ‘Theoric.’ She sighed. The illusion broke and before them stood the former Crimson Hawk, as tall as he had been but drawn, as though something had been taken from him, and she realised something probably had. If you had no natural talent for sorcery the only way to become good at it was to give something up, normally your health. ‘You’re an idiot, Theoric. I didn’t not love you because you didn’t have sorcery, I didn’t love you because you’re an arrogant asshole and I loved Loki!’ ‘If not for him you would have seen how to love me!’ Theoric yelled. ‘You would have been mine, as you should have been!’ ‘I would never have been yours, even if we were wed!’ ‘You’re wrong.’ He walked towards them and Loki tensed, unsure what Theoric was now capable of. All the energies he had used in his attacks were very powerful and he didn’t want to put Sigyn at risk. ‘I almost had you, once before, on Niflheim. I would have taken you, convinced you, you would have been mine!’ ‘Niflheim?’ They both chorused. They knew all too well what had happened at Niflheim. ‘You were never meant to be harmed, you were to be brought to me, we were to live out our days together as husband and wife.’ ‘You killed me!’ She screamed, remembering the ambush as it flashed through her mind; the mysterious magical barrier that barred their path, the bandit attack, the fight, the pain, impaled, blackness. She shoved past Loki and made her way to Theoric before Loki could respond. ‘An accident!’ He held his hands out before him as Loki started towards Sigyn, hoping to stop her, but he found himself slammed against a tree, unable to move. ‘Sig, don’t let him bait you!’ He called. ‘You can shut up as well!’ She glanced back at him before turning her anger back on Theoric. ‘You have no idea what you did!’ ‘I did wrong, I know.’ Theoric held his hands out before him. ‘You belonged with me, we were betrothed, we would have been happy.’ ‘You didn’t love me.’ She stopped partway to him, not wanting to get closer. ‘You loved the idea of me. You said you didn’t care that I fought, but you did. You wanted a trophy wife, and part of that wasn’t just looks but that you could say you had tamed me. I never needed taming, I needed loving for who I was.’ ‘No, that’s not true. I love you, Sigyn, for who you are.’ ‘I’m not Sigyn anymore!’ She shouted and he actually flinched. ‘No, you’re not, you’re even better. When I realised who you were, that you had returned, I knew I had another chance, with a subdued you, someone who was the wife I wanted. You and I, we can make this work, I love you more than he ever could, I always have.’ Sigyn covered her face with her hands. This was too much to take in. Theoric had been responsible for not only her death because of some misguided notion of love, but that of her and Loki’s child. All she had ever wanted, gone, because of Theoric’s selfishness. ‘Sigyn!’ Loki yelled, trying to get her attention. He didn’t know if she was aware but Theoric was putting out magical coercion, trying to convince her to listen to him. She was just a Midgardian, she had none of the mental protection she had when she was Asgardian, and it would be far too easy for him to convince her to go with him, to keep her with him. ‘You know what he’s saying isn’t true, you know I love and loved you more than myself! Remember what he did, sunbeam!’ Theoric threw a hand towards Loki and power coursed through him. He grit his teeth as his muscles spasmed in pain, he had felt worse and learned that crying out helped no one, especially himself, and it certainly wouldn’t help Sigyn. ‘Stop it, Theoric! Don’t!’ She yelled and he turned to her, his eyes dark. ‘Just, don’t.’ She said quietly. ‘I’ll come with you, just let Loki go.’ ‘He’ll come after you. He needs to die.’ Theoric’s eyes flickered from her to Loki and back again. ‘No, he won’t. He doesn’t want me. Without me, he’s free. He’s doing this to stay in Thor’s good books, nothing else.’ ‘Sig, no!’ Loki yelled. She didn’t really believe that, she couldn’t? Theoric had to be putting suggestions in her mind. ‘Sorry, my love, but he has to die.’ Theoric walked past her, stalking towards Loki and her shoulders slumped. She didn’t care if Loki wanted her or not, but she loved him, she couldn’t let him die. Everything seemed to slow as Loki watched Theoric walk towards him, calling power to his hands. He could see it was an effort, the formerly virile man wizened with his sacrifice to the dark arts, and he tried to call his own power, needing something to defend himself, but whatever deal Theoric had made made it impossible for him to break free. Theoric got to within six feet of Loki when Sigyn moved. She spun, drawing her sword as she did, running towards him. The sound of her feet in the undergrowth drew his attention and he started to turn, just as she reached him, her sword coming up and her second hand met the first on the hilt, forcing it into his stomach at an angle, then up and under his ribcage, blood flowing over her hands in a hot rush. His face was one of complete surprise, staring at her in disbelief of what had happened, of what she had done. Sigyn looked at the man she had once been betrothed to, the man who had taken everything from her, and she choked back tears. The actions of this one man destroyed three lives, and knowing he was responsible, knowing what he was capable of, hurt her almost as much as the loss. The spell on Loki broke and he dropped to his feet before striding towards Theoric. He raised his arms and took the dying man’s head in his hands, snapping his neck with a swift twist before pushing the body to the floor, wrenching the sword from Sigyn’s hands in the process. He felt the cloaking spell die in the air as he stepped over the body, pulling Sigyn to him and off her feet, walking her away from what had just happened. The first sob escaped her as she looked at the crumpled form in the brush and Loki turned, putting her back to it as he lowered her back to her feet. He waved his hands over hers, removing the blood before she could notice it and caught her by the upper arms. ‘It’s okay, love, it’s okay.’ He said quietly as she shook her head. ‘I killed him.’ She murmured. ‘You did what you had to, and the killing blow was mine.’ He reassured her, realising this was probably the first time in hundreds of years she had had to try and take another life. ‘Never feel bad for protecting yourself.’ ‘I didn’t do it for me.’ Her voice broke as her legs gave out and he guided her carefully to the ground, joining her and gathering her in his arms. ‘Then I’m honoured.’ ‘I didn’t do it for you either!’ She pushed at his chest to make him let her go but he didn’t relinquish his hold. ‘Darling girl, you did it for someone, and I do not think it was for him.’ He tilted his head towards the body. She didn’t want him to find out like this, she thought she wouldn’t have to tell him at all after his words the previous day. ‘Take me home.’ She said quietly. ‘We need to talk.’ ‘You said all you needed to yesterday.’ ‘I lied to you yesterday, sunbeam. I meant what I said about that, it was all lies, to protect you from the danger my loving you put you in.’ He looked at her sincerely. She sniffed. ‘And how did that work out for you?’ ‘Absolutely terribly.’ He laughed. ‘You’re an asshole.’ She said as tears still flowed down her cheeks. ‘Your asshole?’ He asked tentatively. Her face contorted as she fought not to sob. ‘Are you?’ ‘If you’ll have me, love.’ He kept one arm around her and wiped her cheeks with his fingertips. ‘You are, and always have been, the one, the only one, with whom I can share all that I am.’ ‘You’re a liar.’ She whispered but there was less fight in her. ‘Not in this. Not in my heart. I know I don’t deserve you, after all I put you through, you were always worth more than me, a thousand times more, but if you would give me another chance,’ he turned as the air went static with the appearance of the bifrost, then back to her, ‘I beg you, give me the opportunity, and I will spend the rest of our lives proving to you that you are worth more to me than anything else in any realm.’ ‘Silvertongue.’ ‘Is that a yes?’ ‘I should castrate you.’ She tried to frown but it was lost in the mixture of tears and uncertainty. ‘I’m afraid Darcy has first dibs on my nethers for removal, should you ever require it.’ ‘Brother?’ He heard Thor’s voice but didn’t turn, instead gave Sigyn an intent look. ‘Please?’ ‘No pulling this shit again.’ ‘No more lies, I promise.’ ‘Last chance.’ ‘I will need no more.’ ‘We’ll talk later.’ ‘Is this…Theoric?’ Sif poked the body with her toe as Thor reached them, the other Warriors fanning out, looking for more threats. ‘It was.’ Loki stood, drawing Sigyn with him. ‘Are you well, little sister?’ Thor asked as he reached them, offering her his arms. ‘I am now.’ She stepped forward and he pulled her into a hug. ‘And has this fool apologised?’ They parted but he kept one arm around her. ‘More than once.’ ‘I suggest you listen. He was quite distraught.’ ‘But do not allow him to get away with it. He owes you.’ Sif added. ‘I am quite aware of what I did, thank you, Sif.’ Loki joined them. ‘And if you ever do anything so foolhardy again…’ ‘You’ll kill me?’ He gave her raised eyebrows. ‘Oh no, that would be too kind. I will make you suffer.’ ‘Were there any more than this one fool?’ Volstagg called. ‘Not as far as we are aware.’ Loki replied. ‘Good.’ He put up his axe and strode towards them. ‘I have not seen our little Sigyn for too long.’ He swept her up in a crushing hug. ‘It’s good to see you too, Volstagg.’ ‘You are smaller! You require a good meal with us.’ He smiled as he put her down. ‘I don’t think that will make me taller, at this point.’ ‘She’s perfect.’ Loki added and she turned and gave him a raised eyebrow. ‘I’m still mad at you.’ ‘Oh, Loki, still unable to keep her satisfied.’ Fandral pulled Sigyn to him next, lifting her off the ground. ‘When you want a real man you know where to find me.’ ‘You know the rules.’ ‘Combat it is, then.’ He grinned as he put her down. ‘You’re being ridiculous now.’ Loki reached for her hand to try get her back into his arms but she glared at him and wouldn’t oblige. ‘You think she would be unable to best me?’ Fandral asked. ‘Such little faith.’ Sigyn ignored them as she greeted Hogun but they continued. ‘I think she is Midgardian and it would give you perhaps a small advantage.’ Loki pointed out. ‘You’re not the boss of me.’ Sigyn replied as she broke the embrace with Hogun. ‘You, my brother, are in the doghouse.’ Thor said. ‘I fear I have a long way to go until I am unchained.’ Loki agreed. Thor rested his hand on his shoulder. ‘And until then, Father wishes to see you, Sigyn.’ ‘What?’ Sigyn turned an alarmed look on him. Loki narrowed his eyes suspiciously. ‘Why?’ ‘He wishes to see you for himself.’ He looked at her. ‘That’s, um, terrifying.’ Sigyn replied. ‘He means you no harm.’ Thor assured her. ‘But it may be wise not to keep him waiting.’ ‘Sig.’ Loki held his hand out to her and she stared at it for a moment before meeting his eyes. ‘I know I was a fool, but let us meet everything from this point as one.’ ‘If you screw up again…’ She waved a finger a him warningly. ‘If he screws up again, little sister, I will personally take care of it.’ Thor promised her. It made her feel better, knowing she had him on her side, and knowing that Loki was willing to try. With a sigh she took his hand, and he rewarded her with a grateful smile. ‘I promise never to make you regret this.’

Awww happy reunion with The Warriors Three!

Chapter 71

[justalittlebluetiefling]

Chapter 48: Sometimes I Can’t See Myself

Rating: T Fandom: The 100 Pairing: Bellamy x Clarke Chapter: 48/68 Word Count: 4738 Words

Chapter Summary: The one where Clarke and Bellamy are sort of back to fighting again, so Octavia makes everyone go bowling.

A/N: Okay, I know we’re all still suffering from time jump ptsd, so I’m sorry that there’s an almost 3 month time jump between the last chapter and this chapter. I have a “deleted scene” from that time jump. It’s an argument between Bellamy and an unnamed character from the chapter below. They’re both too stubborn and I couldn’t get the character to stop calling him out on his feelings for Clarke. Soooo I had to cut it, because I don’t want him to be called out on those feelings quite yet. Anyway please don’t hate me I love you all. (Also, if you have any opinions on the way a certain relationship is portrayed, feel free to message me. I’ll gladly talk about it if you have any questions.)

Also on AO3;  Start from the beginning on AO3

“Come on. We’re always doing boring stuff like staying at home. Sometimes, people do this thing. It’s called going outside. I don’t know if you’ve heard of it.” 

Bellamy glared at his sister from his spot on the couch. Octavia had been begging him to go bowling for almost twenty minutes. Bowling. Apparently, that was an actual thing that people still did. “We go hiking all the time,” he countered. “That’s outside.” 

“It’s March. The trails haven’t exactly cleared up yet.” She stuck her tongue out at him. “I’m talking about leaving the apartment for something other than classes or work. What are you going to do next year when me and Monty and Jasper and Wells and Clarke are finally twenty-one?” 

“I’ve been to enough bars to last me a lifetime. You guys can handle going out without me.” 

“You wouldn’t even come out on special occasions? What about birthdays and promotions?” 

Bellamy rolled his eyes and went back to playing around on his phone. “Of course I’d come out on special occasions. I’d sit in the corner and mope with a beer while you all did your thing.” 

“You can do that at the bowling alley.” She watched him flatly, but he waited her out. Finally, she scoffed and crossed her arms. “Clarke said you wouldn’t come, but I wanted to believe that you weren’t actually this petty.” 

That got him to sit up straight. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve been avoiding us since you met Lexa. I get that you don’t like her, but you shouldn’t punish Clarke for it.” 

Bellamy threw his phone down on the couch and stood up. “You think I’m punishing Clarke, because she has bad taste in significant others? If anything, I should be punishing Lincoln, because he has shitty taste in friends.” He ignored Octavia’s glare at that and crossed his arms. “I actually have a date with Gina tonight, but thanks for assuming that I’m just being petty.” 

“Lexa’s nice!” Octavia hesitated and Bellamy couldn’t hold in a smirk. “Well, she’s nice to Clarke. And that’s what matters, right?” Bellamy waited again, mostly to see if she would try to come up with another ‘good’ quality. She didn’t. She went for the low blow, instead. “Besides, Clarke really misses you.” 

“Oh, does she? Tell that to my phone that isn’t ringing off the hook.” 

Octavia scoffed. “Of course she does. I heard her talking to Wells about it a couple weeks ago. Oh!” She jumped up in the air. “Wells doesn’t like her either and he’s still coming. You two can be grumpy about Clarke’s taste in people together.” 

“One. Do you think Wells and I haven’t already talked about this? Two. Please look around right now. Listen. My apartment is finally empty. Gina and I are hanging out here tonight.” 

“Ew. Can’t you guys just do it later?” She shuddered dramatically. “Besides, the rest of us want to meet her and this is perfect timing.” 

“We’ve only been seeing each other for a month and a half. Why would I inflict all of you on her before I can get her fully invested in me?” 

“Because we’re charming and bring out all of your good qualities.” Octavia grinned at him with her hands on her hips. It was clear that she wasn’t going to back down. 

Bellamy groaned. “Ugh. Fine. I guess she has been complaining that she hasn’t met enough of you yet. Apparently, Miller and Harper aren’t enough for her.” 

Octavia threw a victorious fist up in the air and started dancing around. Bellamy thought that Clarke had been the one avoiding him. They hadn’t talked much since he told her that Lexa was trying to take Clarke away from everyone. She left that night without saying a word, but the next day, she showed up and spent a good twenty minutes yelling at him because she wasn’t someone’s property, which was exactly the point he had been trying to make.  

It was possible that he had been the one doing the avoiding after that argument. The reminders of Clarke all over his apartment were enough to get him out more, at least. It was stupid, but it was the reason he met Gina, so he was a little grateful. He wasn’t quite ready for the two of them to meet yet, but he also didn’t want to go without Gina. If things got too bad, they could leave early and go through with their earlier plans. And meeting his friends would make her happy. 

Bellamy walked through the door while Clarke was grabbing shoes for Lexa and herself at the counter. It caught her off guard, but in a great way. They hadn’t talked much since she brought Lexa to movie night. Their fight the next day had been one of the worst fights they ever had, including all of their arguments before they were actually friends. She knew he didn’t like Lexa, but it was still exciting that he finally decided to come out with everyone. Maybe they wouldn’t end up best friends, but she couldn’t believe that two of her favorite people couldn’t at least tolerate each other. 

Octavia ran around him, shooting Clarke a smug look before heading off toward the rest of the group. Clarke glared after her and took a few steps toward Bellamy before stopping dead in her tracks. Some brunette with unfairly curly hair was kissing Bellamy in front of everyone. And then he smiled at her. And she was cute. And they were holding hands when they continued to walk in her direction. She was suddenly in a rush to grab shoes and get away from the counter, but even as she turned around, she knew it was too late. 

Shoes in hand, she turned around again just as they reached her. Bellamy shuffled his feet and dropped the girl’s hand almost too quickly. “Hey. Long time no see, stranger.” It would have been nice to say something a little more normal, but apparently, Clarke couldn’t be normal. 

Bellamy was too busy being weird himself to notice, though. “Yeah. I’ve just been….” He ran a hand through his hair. “Things have been busy.” 

“Yeah. Same. Classes are crazy and Lexa….” Not a good place to start. Clarke trailed off. 

“O mentioned you guys had been….” Bellamy’s voice raised with obviously false brightness. “I’m still TAing, so that’s been… busy.” 

The girl he was with shot them both a weird look before she extended her hand. “Hi. I’m Gina.” 

“Oh, god, I’m so sorry.” Clarke shoved both pairs of shoes under one arm and shook her hand. “I’m Clarke.” 

Gina brightened up at that. “Clarke! Oh my god, I’ve heard so much about you. Harper and Miller love you!” 

Clarke felt her face heating up. “Oh, well, that’s good to—” 

Bellamy grabbed Gina’s hand again. “We need to get our shoes. What lanes are we at?” 

Clarke tried not to wince at the interruption. The awkwardness that had been pressing every other emotion down didn’t quite fade, but it was pushed aside by something else. She pretended that it didn’t hurt that he would barely look at her. “Seven and eight.” 

Gina glared at Bellamy, but squeezed his hand before dropping it. “I’m a size six and a half. I’ll see you over there?” Before Clarke could register her own amusement, Gina looped an arm through her elbow and pulled her toward the lanes. “Bellamy said you’re his best friend. I have so many questions.” 

“Oh, really?” Clarke heard Bellamy groan behind them, but led Gina over to the rest of the group. She fought with her urge to spill all of the embarrassing secrets she could think of with her desire for Bellamy to actually like her again. 

When Bellamy got to their lanes, Gina was deep in conversation with Wells about the pros and cons of bartending her way through college. Lexa immediately left to get drinks, pressing a kiss to Clarke’s temple first, leaving the only open seat next to Clarke. She wondered what kind of excuse he would make to avoid sitting next to her, but he didn’t make any. After he glared after Lexa for a few seconds, he dropped a kiss to the top of Gina’s head and handed her a pair of shoes.  

Even though the tension radiated off him in waves, he still crossed the small distance between them to sit down. Choosing the seat next to her over the floor apparently did not mean he was going to talk to her, though. She made it through watching him change one shoe before she broke. 

“So, I’m your best friend, huh?” 

He rolled his eyes and moved onto the second shoe. “Most of the time, yeah.” When he finished tying it, he slid his shoes underneath her seat and looked at her, frowning. “I mean, all of the time. You know you are.” 

“I won’t tell Miller.” 

He smiled. “That’s why you’re my best friend.” 

Clarke smiled back. “Well, Gina seems nice.” 

“She is really nice. She’s great.” He looked down at his lap where his hands were tightly clasped together. Clarke wanted to reach over, but held herself back. It wasn’t what they did anymore. It seemed almost inappropriate, given their circumstances. “I’m really glad I met her.” 

“Me too.” 

Bellamy seemed to be making his mind up about something, so Clarke didn’t say anything else. After a moment, he leaned back to sling an arm over the back of her chair and met her eyes. “I may never be okay with… well, you know. But I just want you to be happy.” 

“I am.”  

“I want you to be treated the way you deserve.” 

It was Clarke’s turn to look down at her feet. “I know.” 

Her relationship with Lexa was hard sometimes. They fought, but couples fought. It was a part of the natural order of things. It would have been nice if Lexa made more of an effort to hang out with Clarke’s friends, too, but that was part of what had inspired the whole bowling outing. Octavia wanted to make her feel welcome. It was a big deal that she had agreed to come at all. 

Bellamy’s hand on her knee broke her out of her thoughts. “Can we go back to talking every day? Because I don’t always know how to handle being in an actual relationship. I can’t keep asking Octavia for advice. She says it grosses her out. And I think Miller gives me bad advice on purpose.” 

Clarke laughed, because the bit about Miller was definitely true. “I’d like that a lot.” 

She hugged him, but it was short. It felt awkward. It was hard to know where the line was since they were both in relationships. Things would be much easier if Gina liked her more than Lexa liked Bellamy. 

A throat cleared behind them and they both spun around. Lexa stood there, holding two drinks. “Bellamy.” 

He sat up straighter and bowed in his seat. “Lexa.” 

Clarke snorted and tried to turn it into a cough. Lexa just rolled her eyes. “You’re in my seat.” 

“Oh, well, excuse me.” He kept up his mock-serious façade and Clarke tried not to laugh. “I should go check on Gina, anyway. Wells is a notorious gossip.” 

Lexa sat down after he moved and handed Clarke a drink. The other set of chairs burst into hysterics when Bellamy dropped into Wells’ lap and threw his legs over Gina’s. 

“I really don’t know what you see in him, Clarke.” 

Clarke wanted to tell her, but she couldn’t. It was already painfully obvious that they’d be talking about it later. There was no point starting an argument prematurely and this was one thing Clarke couldn’t give up for Lexa, no matter how often she asked. 

Lane 7  Lexa Princess Bell Gina O Lincoln

Lane 8  Miller The Senator Harper Monty Goggles

“I need to come up with better nicknames for everyone.” Octavia started to test new nicknames for their friends out under her breath while Clarke was taking her turn. Bellamy nodded and it was enough to keep her talking, but he had nothing to contribute. He had contributed Princess, Goggles, and The Senator. He had done his duty and was too focused on the atrocity in front of him to be of much help, anyway. 

Clarke was horrible at bowling and the more people watched her, the worse she did. Lexa tried to help Clarke fix her form a couple times before giving up. Bellamy could have told her a better way to approach Clarke with assistance (sneak up on her with it, but not too sneaky or she’ll get even more annoyed), but he knew Lexa wouldn’t appreciate being told 'how to handle' her girlfriend. Their first conversation still caused him to bristle every time he looked at her. 

Of course, like everything else she did, Lexa was perfect. Once she gave up on ‘helping’ Clarke, the two stopped snapping at each other. It meant that instead of forcing him to watch them argue (which he didn’t mind), he was forced to watch celebratory kisses and giggles every time Lexa got a spare or a strike. 

It was fine. Really. Lexa seemed to be on better behavior than she had for their other disastrous meeting. She still wouldn't make conversation with him, though. Gina, however, had the ability to talk to anyone. It was one of the greatest things about her. She was funny enough that she was able to joke her way into a conversation and smart enough that she could keep up with anything anyone threw her way. Even Lexa wasn't immune to her charm. 

Neither was Clarke. Those two really seemed to get along. That was fine, too. If his best friend and his girlfriend got along, it would make his life a lot easier. At least, it would be easier than Clarke's. 

Part of the way through the second game, Wells and Jasper started to tease Clarke during her turns. She took it well and flipped them off before yet another awful throw. Bellamy couldn't take it anymore. Under the guise of getting ready for his turn, he walked up to the ball return when Clarke was waiting for her ball. 

"I'm only going before you so that you look good." She pouted at him, brimming with self-deprecation, and he couldn’t help but smile.

"I always look good, Princess." 

Clarke rolled her eyes. "You're alright." 

"I bet you can get a spare this time."  

"I hit one pin, Bellamy. It's more likely that I'll get it in the gutter again." 

He glanced back at Gina who mouthed help her and motioned toward Clarke with a grin. Lexa frowned until Gina leaned over and engaged her in conversation again. It was impressive. No one could hate Gina. 

"Come on. I'll show you." 

"I'm perfectly content with being horrible at bowling. I can't be great at everything. It's only fair." 

Bellamy laughed, grabbed her ball from the ball return and handed it to her before spinning her around. "Just one try and if you're still horrible, I promise to write you off as a lost cause." 

Clarke stepped on his foot (on purpose), but allowed him to push her toward the lane. "One try. That's all you get before you have to admit I'm hopeless." 

He shook his head even though she couldn't see and stopped her a few steps back from the lane. "Okay, so you want to stand a couple steps back, maybe here. And hold the ball like this." He put her left elbow at her waist and moved her right hand to support the ball. 

"I'm going to buy you and Lexa both those stupid bowling gloves before we leave today." 

"You know I could totally pull off that look." She bit of a laugh and was only mostly successful. "Anyway, I like to take two steps and then slide into the third while I throw the ball." 

"Yeah, I know. You look like a dork." 

He pinched her right arm and she laughed. "You use the two steps to swing the ball back. Do you want to try?" 

She turned around and scrunched her nose at him. "Would that make you happy?" 

"I'd be thrilled." 

He tried to keep a straight face when she glared at him, but she practiced the approach a couple times without many complaints. The approach wasn't her main problem, anyway. Once he was satisfied, they went back to the starting position.  He set one hand on her left wrist and the other hesitantly rested on her right arm. 

"So, you're timing your swing fine, but it's where you're releasing the ball that's tripping you up." Everything felt a little weird, because she was left-handed, but the mechanics would basically be the same. "Take a step forward, like you're approaching." He gently pulled her arm back into a swing and pushed it forward, halting it in alignment with her leg. "This is about where you want to start to release the ball. 

The ball dropped to the ground with a loud thud and the group behind them erupted with laughter. Clarke grinned from ear to ear when he hopped forward to grab it and pushed it back into her hands. 

"Very funny." 

"I know." 

He sighed and resumed their previous position. "When you let go of the ball, your arm should keep swinging. It should probably face this way." He twisted her arm so her underarm was facing the ceiling. "You don't want to get too fancy with spins at this point, so you just let your arm swing naturally into this position. And keep your arm swinging after you let the ball go. You should be pointing at the pin you're aiming at. Easy, right?" 

"I can't really practice this one, huh?" In spite of all her joking, she sounded nervous. 

"You'll be fine. You're basically doing it already, but you're pointing at the pins in the other lane, so the ball goes that way." 

She narrowed her eyes at him, not quite a glare, and he could practically see her working through the angles in her head. Finally, she nodded. "I'm giving this one shot and if it doesn't work, it doesn't work." 

Bellamy took a couple steps back to watch. She stood a few steps away from the line and shook herself out before she took her throw. It felt like the ball was going in slow motion down the lane and Clarke watched it, hopping up and down with her hands pressed to her mouth. With a loud crack, she took down another six pins and then she was jumping and yelling and leapt into his arms. 

"I did it! It worked!" 

Clarke was greeted with high-fives from almost everyone, but Lexa looked less than pleased. Bellamy forced himself to focus on his turn instead of on the sudden hostility radiating from the seats behind him. He hovered near the ball return through Gina's turn as well. When she was done, he excused them both to grab a couple drinks. Lexa nodded and Clarke smiled weakly. 

At the bar, Gina used his shoulder to push herself up and give him a kiss on the cheek. 

"What was that for?" 

"You're just really sweet. It was really nice of you to help Clarke." She put in their order and then turned to lean against the bar, facing him. "It's sad that Lexa isn't more secure in their relationship." 

Bellamy frowned. "Did she say something to you?" 

Gina shrugged. "She didn't really have to. It's clear that Clarke cares about both of you and it makes Lexa uncomfortable. The thing is, instead of being jealous of how close you and Clarke are, I'd rather get to know her and find out how cool she obviously is. But Lexa's been ignoring you all night. I feel really bad for Clarke, being put in that position." 

As they walked back, Bellamy wasn't sure how to respond. He hadn't told Gina much about why he and Clarke hadn't been hanging out as much since they both got girlfriends. He'd only mentioned a few times that he didn't like Lexa. While he was fairly certain Gina had been trying to encourage him, he felt horribly guilty instead. When he thought about it, he knew he was being just as difficult as Lexa. The least he could do was be supportive until Clarke figured out that she deserved better. 

Lexa was the queen of the silent treatment. It was frustrating, because Clarke was tipsy, she had managed to hit way more pins than she ever had before, and she was friends with Bellamy again. All of that positivity made her want to get her girlfriend into bed, but it was clear on the drive home that it wasn't how the night would end. 

Clarke fell back onto Lexa's couch while Lexa put their jackets away and went into the kitchen. She came back out with a glass of water and handed it to Clarke, then set a couple aspirin on the coffee table. 

"Do you need to eat?" 

So, that was what she would bring up first. It was shocking that she and Bellamy hadn't bonded over Clarke's apparent inability to take care of herself. She took the aspirin anyway and shook her head. "I'm good." 

"You're sure? You had a few—" 

"I've got a general idea of my own alcohol tolerance, thanks." Lexa pulled back a little and Clarke sighed. "I'm sorry. You've been pissed off most of the night and I'm so sick of being treated this way every time I have a drink." 

Lexa frowned. "I don't think you've ever had that much to drink around... me." 

She trailed off. Clarke was so tired of regretting everything she said. She was tired of being wary of mentioning Bellamy. It wasn't worth the effort. "Yeah, unless Bellamy's distracted by the possibility of getting laid, he's always 'mom'ing me when I'm drunk." 

It was the first time Clarke had said his name on purpose in a couple of weeks. The first time Lexa met Bellamy, he'd been in a shitty mood and was kind of an asshole. He said some things that hurt her at the time, but it had led to what she thought was a really good talk with Lexa. Her friends were important to her and if Lexa was going to be in her life, she needed her to make an effort to get to know them. And she had. At least, she had agreed to go bowling with them. 

"I need you to just tell me what's wrong, Lexa." 

"I'm tired, Clarke. I'd rather just go to bed." 

"That's what I wanted, too." Clarke grabbed Lexa's hand. "I thought we'd come back here and be a little tipsy and have moderately drunk sex. But you've been giving me the silent treatment since we left and I'm done with it." 

Lexa grabbed her face and kissed her tenderly. Clarke tried to deepen it, to be willing to put off this argument for a few more minutes, but Lexa pulled away. "I don't want to fight with you anymore." 

"Well, if this is about Bellamy again, I don't want to fight with you either." 

Lexa leaned back against the couch and threw an arm over her eyes. "You know he hates me, right? He doesn't make an effort to be more than civil." 

"I don't know what you want me to say, Lexa. He's worried that you'll hurt me. You don't want to hurt me, so can't you guys find some common ground there?" 

"I really doubt it." 

"Well, what do you want me to do?" Clarke stood up without thinking. 

Lexa finally looked at her and a chill swept over Clarke as Lexa leaned forward. "Maybe be a little more subtle in front of his girlfriend, at least? You guys were all over each other tonight, Clarke. Your lack of boundaries with each other makes everyone uncomfortable." 

"That's not.... Lexa," Clarke was horrified by the pleading tone in her voice, but she was desperate to make her understand. "I can't just let him go. We've been through so much. I live with his sister. They're my best friends. They're my family." 

"Clarke." Lexa's face softened and she stood, setting her hands on either side of Clarke's face. "I know how much you depend on them. I just want you to depend on me more. Is that so horrible?" 

"I want that, too, but we've only been seeing each other for a couple months." She brought her hands up to stroke Lexa's forearms. "You can't ask me to be ready for that right away." 

"I know. But you're amazing and beautiful and can you blame me for being so scared of losing you?" 

Clarke frowned. The 'to him' was unspoken, but she could hear it anyway. "I'm sorry. I just wish you two could get along. I'm trying to find our boundaries. It's just hard, because we've never had to have them with each other." 

Lexa frowned, too. "I guess it's a good thing you two finally got into relationships, then." 

"What do you mean?" 

"I mean that it will help you discover how to depend on other people. No offense, but I always feel like I'm stuck in the middle of that episode of Friends. You know, the one where Phoebe's dating the psychiatrist?" 

They'd been binging the show together, but it had been at least a season since that episode, so it took a moment for Clarke to remember the details. "Are you calling us dysfunctionally codependent?" 

Lexa shrugged. "Maybe a little." 

Clarke was silent as Lexa left the room to get ready for bed. It was one of those moments where it was hard to tell if something Lexa said was an insult or just a fact. There were almost too many of those moments in the relationship. Sometimes, she really hated dating a psychology major. 

[flauntpage]

A Philly Mag Columnist Took the Eagles’ Win and Used It for Race Bait

Philly Mag published a story on Monday titled “The Eagles Won Big Sunday Night, and So Did White Privilege.”

Some people dismissed it as clickbait, and maybe it is, but I was told that only shitty blogs did that, and not traditional and respected media outlets.

Hmm..

Anyhow, I’m stunned that Philly Mag would poo-poo a big sporting event. Stunned! This is the same outlet that crapped all over the NFL Draft being in town, referring to NFL players as “future rapists” in a piece eloquently titled “Dear NFL: Take Your Stupid NFL Draft and Shove It.”

This is the same outlet that hosted the excellent “Birds 24/7” blog, then decided to get rid of it. This is the outlet that decided to part with one of the city’s best Sixers writers for no apparent reason.

So I’m not surprised that they would take a unifying sporting event and use it as an opportunity to publish something totally divisive instead.

The author, Ernest Owens, is a mini-Shaun King who boycotts the NFL over the Colin Kaepernick issue. He wrote an entire story explaining how Malcolm Jenkins is a sellout (aka Uncle Tom) for “exploiting” Kaepernick, with hardly a mention of Jenkins’ award-winning charitable work for communities of color. Other recent offerings for Philly Mag include a story about how white organizers were influencing the Philly Women’s March and how gay male business owners are trying to take advantage of white privilege.

He also wrote a story for the Metro two years ago titled “Please don’t let this Villanova Parade be another display of white privilege,” so it’s almost like he has an agenda he wants to push.

You understand what beat he’s on.

This latest column begins with him again calling Malcolm Jenkins a sellout before writing this:

When so many are chanting “Fly Eagles Fly,” I am reminded of the double standards around these celebrations. Crowds of white people, in all of their unapologetic privilege, got publicly drunk, set fires, scaled traffic poles, and disrespected city monuments on Sunday night — and everyone cheered them on. “It’s a Philly thing,” I heard down my newsfeed as people relished in the team’s victory. There had been reports of violence before the game even started, and based on press conferences last week, the police weren’t planning to stop the antics, but merely manage them.

Ignore the fact that he links to a Philly Mag article that begins with video of a shirtless black man, who appears to be having no trouble celebrating, wearing an Eagle head.

You know, this guy:

As for the “crowds of white people,” here’s one cheering on a black guy who is banging a drum in the middle of Broad Street:

How dare all of these people… enjoy themselves?

And how about this white privilege right here:

Let’s go to Frankford and Cottman, where the white privilege was on full display in this very diverse crowd:

I don’t know. Looks like a crowd of Eagle fans just having some fun. The irony here is that Mayfair is starting to see an influx of immigrants and people of color, which should help prop up a struggling neighborhood. We had a white guy write about that this week.

Let’s go now to the television to see if they got the hooliganism on camera:

Nope, just three black women and a little girl dancing with a mohawked white guy.

So that part of the story doesn’t hold up. It certainly wasn’t just crowds of white people out on Sunday night. Turns out everybody likes the Eagles.

Let’s see what else Ernest has for us:

So thousands of mostly white people got to roam the streets freely without heavy police intervention and basically got to do whatever they wanted all because our city won a game? There’s a long history of this local tolerance of bad behavior from Eagles fans. But honestly, this level of accepted misconduct isn’t a unique “Eagles fan” phenomenon — it’s an acceptance of white privilege.

Well, according to police reports, there wasn’t much misconduct. There was a whopping total of six arrests on Sunday night.

Our African-American Police Commissioner, Richard Ross, spoke about that:

“When you get upwards of tens of thousands of people in different locations you’re gonna get some fights. Mostly minor in nature,” said Ross.

And police say there were six Eagles related arrests.

In one instance, police say a man named Andrew Tornetta punched a Pennsylvania State Police Corporal and his horse. It happened in Lot M about three hours before the Eagles game started. Tornetta now faces assault charges. There were also two disorderly conduct arrests and three for counterfeit tickets.

Still, because of the hard work of the cops and all the fans who celebrated without causing trouble, Ross says Sunday was a win.

“I think in the grand scheme of things it went very well,” said Ross.

The white idiot kid broke the law and was arrested. The rest “went very well,” according to the commissioner.

Does that make Ross a sellout, too?

More:

It’s baffling how public marches and protests that uplift people of color and women can be heavily monitored by police, but widespread mayhem perpetrated by white men isn’t. I have witnessed a small handful of Black and brown activists being followed by multiple police cars and officers on bikes as if they were a large army. And yet I don’t see such zeal in policing when majority white Mummers take over the streets. I also don’t hear much concern over public safety when large crowds of white people partake in multiple days of St. Patrick’s Day drunkenness.

But people of color are never given the same benefit of a doubt, and that matters.

Probably the only part of the column that makes any kind of sense. I’d agree that the Mummer’s Parade has a history of uncouth behavior, some of which is just idiots being idiots (on 2nd street), and some of which is Caitlyn Jenner signs and blackface, and whatever assorted bullshit people come up with. There are plenty of white people out there who have yet to join the rest of us in the 21st Century.

As for the police stuff, it really gets into the weeds with logistics and numbers. Events are different, yeah? Things like the Mummer’s Parade and Odunde Festival are easy to police and protect because they take place in defined geographic areas. I’ve been to both and I think the law enforcement deployment is very similar. Drunk idiots walk around in various spots during St. Patrick’s Day, so that’s harder to game plan for. And small protests, like the one involving Woody’s and ICandy, you’re going to see the obvious disparity between crowd size and police presence, which I’d think is more about protecting a tiny and mobile group rather than straight-up profiling. In the case of Sunday night, you just try to contain revelers and then disburse the crowd peacefully, which I think the police department did a good job of:

Police are now trying to end the #Eagles celebration here at Frankford and Cottman @KYWNewsradio pic.twitter.com/d3mQhD4wfK

— Andrew Kramer (@Philly_Kramer) January 22, 2018

And finally:

Ask yourself whether the city would have embraced a crowd of Black men the same way if the Sixers had made it to the NBA finals? If your answer is no, then ask yourself what exactly are we celebrating for.

Saying that football fans are predominantly white and that basketball fans are predominantly black is a stereotype. I see a lot of scrawny white hipsters at Sixer games. It’s probably the most diverse crowd in town, and to answer your question, yes, it absolutely would have embraced it the same exact way.

Look, I’m a white kid from a white town on the Berks County border. I went to college in a white state, then moved to Georgia to live in a city that was 60% black. I consider myself fortunate to see how people live in different areas of the country, to experience the new south vs. the old south and immerse myself in ideas and cultures that were new and unfamiliar to me. I worked the 2008 election in the Bible Belt. I’ve seen a lot of shit in 33 years and I’m thankful for it.

I’ll tell you that I feel like white privilege DOES exist. I think a lot people like myself are smart enough to acknowledge that, yes, we probably had an easier path to get to where we are today. We don’t take that for granted. I think we understand that we had a bit of a head start, but the only thing you can really do is work hard to try to build from that. I’m not going to walk around feeling “white guilt” for something that I can’t control. I came out of the womb half Italian and half Anglo mutt, so it is what it is. My parents taught me to treat other people the way I wanted to be treated, and hopefully I can play a role in leveling the playing field for everybody else.

The problem here is that you’re taking an event that unifies an incredibly diverse city and making it divisive instead. I didn’t see black and white on Sunday night, I just saw Eagle fans.

Ernest saw colors, white and black, and does himself disservice by viewing it through that lens.

A Philly Mag Columnist Took the Eagles’ Win and Used It for Race Bait published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/

[writera]

Becoming a Dungeon Master

I feel like a fairly new DM. And most of my RPG experience is as a DM. However at this point I have years of experience, so I'm not sure how long I get to hang on to that moniker.

Getting started as a DM is pretty intimidating, foremost because there is just so much you don't know about — if your players know more about the setting or the canonical character/spell/narrative tropes than you, its easy to let them push you to make calls you wouldn't otherwise make. Trying to adjudicate for very smart, rules lawyering [fill-in-the-game] buffs sounds like an uphill battle.

Briefly, I got my start with 3.5e in college, subsequently played 40k, World of Darkness, a homebrew system, and DM'd two 5e D&D games. I've been a part of four different groups. I had some trouble running good 5e games, and this has directly resulted in a lot of research. 

In my 40k game, the primary GM was tired of GMing, but whenever his apprentice GM ran a game, he was "corrected" on a number of things that the apprentice had pretty clearly thought out in advance. Having less experience in the setting, the corrections made no sense — "wow that's a cool idea! It doesn't even matter to the campaign, why is the regular GM nixing this?".

I toyed with the idea of running a few sessions, and studied the one rulebook I was planning on drawing from. 40k has shitty encounter-balancing tools, and I never managed to put something together before that game dissolved.

In the meantime, I was playing board games with a volatile and cliqueish meetup group. After D&D 5e came out, I thought I'd see if anyone in the meetup was interested in trying out 5e. I got a game together to play Hoard of the Dragon Queen. My first time DM-ing!

I had never played with a grid, and didn't want to. I'd forgotten most everything about 3.5, so I wasn't bothered by some of the major changes between 3.5 and 5e. Anyway 5e said all the things I wanted to hear — grid? Don't trouble yourself. Rules dispute? Make a decision, figure it out later. I tried to commit as much of the mechanics and guidelines to heart as possible — even waded most of the way through the spell list, trying to figure out each one — although I seem to have failed to pay attention to class progressions beyond a cursory glance (carefully read the class progressions your players choose, after they choose them! build the game to their abilities!).

I didn't realize that half my group were hardcore min-maxers. That half was there for the full RPG experience and the other half for a glorified tactical combat game. I was so focused on trying to memorize all the narrative and mechanical details that I didn't work on tactical scenarios. Not that I knew how to make combat interesting — for all my RTS computer games, I knew how to build tactics to the terrain, not terrain to tactics. Anyway, the group itself had some interpersonal problems that ultimately was its undoing, but we played for a while before that happened.

I was enthusiastically reading advice on hooking your players and running a good game. I put together an introductory email with some setting material, key terms and character concept ideas, and a map of Faerun (with a note that it was just for context, a character wouldn't know what Faerun looks like). One thing I stressed was creating bonds and flaws that you wanted to see happening in game.

So first session, after my little speech about bonds and flaws, including a half-thought one-liner about "not picking something really far away or irrelevant", one player — hereafter known as Bob — asks me — "can my bond be the grandfather tree?" — and talks a little about the grandfather tree. I thought — great! I was worried they might not go along with this. So I make a point of praising the idea. Meanwhile the players are ignoring me and laughing at me, passing around my map of Faerun pointing at a little dot labeled "Grandfather Tree", as far away from our starting point as the map allows. So I say — That map is just for context! I can put the forest where-ever I want! It can be next door.

Half the table stares at me incredulously ... "are you sure you don't want to look at the map?"

For Bob and his friend Byron, the game was completely about optimal positioning. Eventually it became pretty clear that the power gamers were unhappy, and I agreed to use a whiteboard to draw battlemaps. This time, HotDQ prescribed an ambush. As usual, the game ground to a halt during combat while Bob ran around sniping enemies — with no idea that eight covered leveled bad guys might be above their power-level. I tried to drop helpful hints, and the rest of the party eventually got it together and regrouped, but Bob's character continued kiting to the long drawn-out end, and finally! by fair tactical combat got chased down, knocked unconscious, and dragged off "to the rape dungeon!" as Bob energetically interjected.

It wasn't all bad, but it was a constant fight. Worse, while the B-men were most excited about gaming the system, they had no interest in making believable choices. HotDQ has a lot of leading questions (it's a railroad as written) — and I was ready to try to round-about recyle the chapters under different conditions to make the game flow, and I even said so when Byron commented something along the lines of "gee, I wonder where we're supposed to go next?". I wish they had tried at least *somewhat* to assert their will in the storyline. But those two didn't really care. And the other two bought the story hooks.

Those other two players (Bianca and Eadward) probably didn't get the game they deserved, either; in part because I was focused on dealing with the first two. Bob took the floor, but also completely ignored the will of the other players. During a hostage crisis, for example, he got all the hostages killed when the rest of the party could taste victory. But I had recently moved to a small town and didn't know anyone else who might play.

Anyway, to me, that first campaign (which we didn't finish) felt flat and the combats tedious. I doubled down on my efforts to figure out why. Some time passed, my two favorite players moved away, and I found another group of players: a DM, a soon-to-be-DM, a Pathfinder guy, and a newbie nerd who wanted to play a powerful necromancer.

I hear a lot of advice repeated over and over again. The internet is kind of an echo-chamber — maybe nobody knows what they're doing. So here's my thoughts on the systems, and process of becoming a DM —

The process of becoming a DM sucks. Maybe you've got a supportive group of players, or maybe you are working with what you have, trying to accommodate them. I had ideas and creativity, but I didn't know how to efficiently turn them into encounters, social situations, and adventures. For my second campaign, I homebrewed the world, a metropolis, the society, an underlying plot, the traditional world-building minutiae, and monsters, dungeons, ... almost everything. I put in so much work — almost every day, and a lot of my weekends I went down to the coffee shop, researched, wrote backstory, adjusted power levels or made up new challenges. And I still feel like it was easier than trying to learn all the details of an established setting I've never played, like Faerun.

Because Faerun doesn't make sense to me. I make up part of it, only to find when I look for a detail somewhere else, it's tightly coupled to the part I replaced! Without a model of how Faerun works in my head, I'm not sure how to move my chess pieces. I need someone to break it down at every stage into the simplest pieces possible — treating a nation as an NPC, identifying important NPCs and their relationships, NPC roles, propensities/motives, and power. And then breaking down organizations into some kind of organization-space, treating them as NPCs, building a web, and mapping organization-space onto a geographical map. And then breaking down cities into NPCs and organizations, and then districts, and then guilds, and then society. Because, otherwise, it's too vast for me to understand out of context, and it's too easy to break immersion, to give too much political power to the PCs (so that there's no point to strive for anything anymore).

So of course, I was excited when the Sword Coast Adventurer's Guide came out. I figured — this is the ticket for me to understand the broad strokes of Faerun! But it most definitely isn't. I'm not going to hate on the book, if you have time and money, and it seems interesting, by all means why not peruse it? I appreciate WotC's intent — but the book is more like an encyclopedia and less like a novel. A novel?

When I started out my second campaign, I handed out a detailed questionnaire. I listed scifi & fantasy books, and asked players to order them by favorite theme. I had questions testing interest in various settings, playstyles, character goals, greyscale morality vs black-and-white, miscellaneous ideas I had, and possible responsibilities players might want to take on (food, side-quest DMing, writing, etc). After the first campaign, I wanted to gauge player interests. I had been doodling setting ideas for a while, and wanted to know if the players would care. I decided my setting was an important demiplane or whatever man, and that there were secret portals typically accessible by ship (a plot point) which I could use to plug it into another setting whenever I wanted (I planned to plug it into Faerun). Interestingly, I had more than enough material in my own world, and my players never got to Faerun.

What did those questionnaires get me? Absolutely nothing. One player nixed "Game of Thrones style" on his questionnaire, for all the good it did him (it just made me fret about my grand plans, I should never have asked — how is he supposed to know my world-building secrets anyway? Also, what is Game of Thrones style?). The rest of it was just idiosyncratic preferences, although it was interesting to look at. So while it's good to feel your group out, I don't think you need to go overboard here. "Will you bring the drinks?" "Do you have to get up early the next morning?" and "Do you like hack and slash?" "Do you like political power?" "Do you like experience points?" "Do you like dungeons and treasure?" or something similar will suffice.

A novel? The Sword Coast Adventurer's Guide (SCAG) isn't a novel? When I started out my second campaign, one player asked if the Elemental Evil supplement was allowed. I ended up with an elf, a half-elf, a drow (who I guided away from "drow, moon elf drow, because the elves can be subdivided up into sun and moon elves" — too bad I didn't think of half-drow half-moon-elf at the time), and a svirfneblin. Now, I had read the SCAG and PHB treatises on Drow. I was blissfully unaware of how crazily subjugated my Drow were, and how fanatically wrathful they must be feeling. Oh well, my world. But the EE supplement requester let something slip about the Legend of Drizzt books.

Obviously, I read the first 17 books in short order.

While these books helped fill out some understanding of Faerun, I only really feel like I understand the motivations of Icewind Dale. Possibly because it's a small setting, with easily identifiable factions, and a battle or two. It's also remote, and Drizzt didn't go adventuring to far off made-up dungeons while he was there every other day. And the underdark, which I now think is amazing! I'm going to keep reading these books, I am looking forward to learning about Neverwinter (the glosses I've read are so vague).

But I'm not sure reading those books are the right way to begin to understand Faerun.

One thing I've discovered recently is 1e and 2e settings books. The right settings books. Not even necessarily the Faerun settings books. Back when I was planning my homebrew campaign, I was researching mechanics for worlds which get very cold (and also seafaring). I did some research and bought some 2e and 3e pdfs from the DMsGuild which looked relevant. They were filled with irrelevant system-specific mechanics, outdated math, and segmented, wandering descriptions. It put me off reading anything published before 5e as labor-reducing material for my 5e campaign. And the adventures — I was building my own, I had no interest in those outdated railroads (HotDQ was the only published adventure I had tried to absorb).

But after continued research, I acquired 0e, 1e, Dark Sun, Planescape, and Spelljammer. These are amazing books, and I'm currently searching out the other best early books. It doesn't help that they're not compiled into a complete, chronological, and categorized list anywhere, and that it would cost a fortune to [legally] acquire the collected works (on pdf, no less). I'm going to come back to the fact that I bought 0e and 1e, but if I have to pick one of these books to recommend, it's the Planescape boxed set.

Planescape is the kind of thing I can pick up and read, and not fall asleep. It also is far superior to all of the DMG/PHB/wikipedia descriptions of the outer planes. I just had to remember to skip sections that didn't catch my interest. Basically, it's one man's account of the planes. He has a lot of colorful advice, much more narrative, to the point, and subjective than SCAG, which half-heartedly not-really adopted a subjective narrator. It's humorous, non-definitive!, and all-inclusive. It's also the source material which created the planes — everything else written is a revision. It's like a creative writing prompt.

Continuance

One source of DMing wisdom that has had a major impact on my thought patterns is The Angry GM. He might repeat himself and slowly elaborate on the same ideas he's been stewing on for years, but I only realized this after reading the majority of everything he has on his site. I could put together specific article recommendations if anyone cared. Also, support him on Patreon!

I like articles like Angry’s because he lays out his thought patterns while constructing the models you want to use. These are self-contained predictive (crassly, "generative") modules. How do you build a chase scene?

You deconstruct the idea of chase into its components parts, examine the theory of roleplaying, identify the important parts of roleplaying for various players, apply literature theory (I read a number of books on authoring fiction, I guess you could do that too), add tension, modularize, and reconstruct.

When you're done, you have either an encounter to play out with triggers and mechanics, or an encounter and encounter-mechanics building set of meta mechanics, or perhaps even meta-meta encounter-mechanics mechanics building mechanics, if you're applying yourself.

I really appreciate being able to read and understand an adventure or optional rule. By applying structure to some pile of text you hand me, I can start to compile your input into a useful program of sorts, that I can use to reason, and generate predictions for behaviors of various chess pieces.

After I read a lot of The Angry GM’s articles, I bought all the published 5e adventures, and set to analyzing them. There's a great variety. I wouldn't advise you to do this: maybe only one at a time.

I also watched youtube playthroughs of most of them (and some extras, on top of that).

In my opinion, Princes of the Apocalypse has the most interesting story structure, followed by Storm King's Thunder. Out of the Abyss turned into an amazing playthrough. And if I understood the Ravenloft better, Curse of Strahd might be my favorite of them all. But I don't understand it hardly at all yet. So I'd be more likely to run the other ones I mentioned.

The Angry GM mentions in passing a number of divides in the RPG gamer community, none of which should come as a shock to anyone who has used the internet to read about D&D or any other RPG ... storytellers vs tacticians, "improvisers vs railroaders" (a meaningless dichotomy, he explains), the choice of maintaining thematic integrity (think Dark Sun) vs allowing players any choice or capability they can articulate with their mouth-things (think Acquisitions Incorporated). I knew all the echo-chamber soundbytes about these divides before, but now they mean a lot more to me.

Most importantly. I watched a youtube video which talked about the evolution of D&D — and I was very surprised how 0e and 1e read. I had heard about the ebb and flow of mechanics vs DM intuition. But when I actually looked at the early D&D texts, they read like creative writing prompts, not rulesets or algebras. Eg, here is a system I made up. I wanted to do a thing, and so I hope you like it. Oh, and another thing might help you mitigate some problem — to the point.

I'm a scifi buff, and I thought it might be easier to run a science fiction RPG than a fantasy game like D&D. I tried to research the best scifi RPG, and the first time I searched, the jury cried out "Traveller"! I'm currently watching Babylon 5 for the second time (and honestly, I'm getting impatient writing this, I want to watch B5, but if I stop writing I likely won't continue later).

If you like Babylon5, you probably agree that Traveller has a pretty great premise. I unfortunately made a rookie mistake and bought Traveller5, which was supposed to be the ultimate be-all-and-end-all of Traveller RPGs. It's not, because it's an algebra book.

I can't stay awake reading Traveller5, no joke. It requires intense mental exertion to see and make sense of the unexplained patterns and arcane rules. It's very complete — with systems for social interaction (which I feel divided about), crafting, and detailed world-building. It doesn't provide a setting beyond a few pages (out of 700!), but instead tools to build a cohesive setting. It really is the distilled machinations of years of game design, but it's inaccessible to the layperson. And from some of the reviews I've read, that's not an uncommon opinion.

But the thing that really is the kicker — some people like Traveller5 style rules, and some people like 5e/1e style rules. And there's nothing you can do about it to change their minds. Some people like rules lawyering — this occurred to me while listening to Happy Jacks RPG — they like to sit down for their session, use their encylopediac knowledge of the rules to optimize and evolve their character and actions, sticking to every last convention — sitting down and debating the best course of action. Not quickly resolving actions and moving on with the action or story, not the excitement of battle, nor promise of immersion. Some people like tactically planning every move before execution, and won't hesitate to spend every moment of their time evaluating, debating. Because that is the fun part for them.

I've read flamewars on forums between these two camps — and anyone with a bone to pick will claim the buzzwords for themselves. My way is "immersive"! One bozo claimed that 5e was terrible because DMs weren't required to build NPCs using the same process PCs are built, so certain pregen NPC stat block abilities weren't accessible to his PC — because this inconsistency in *rules* breaks *immersion*. To me, this sounds like a bit of stretch — I think thematic (which heavily involves adjudication) inconsistencies break immersion, not rules inconsistencies. Or maybe he is immersed in something, and it's just not the story.

Anyway, this guy liked 3.5e better than 5e — not only, but he thought 5e was trash.

Is it? My final closing remarks here are going to be on 3.5e versus 5e, which is I think the question you have been waiting for — or maybe not, I don't know.

Most recently, I have been cross-referencing 3.5 with 5e. Some of it's coming back to me now, and some of the surprised questions my second group asked about rules are making more sense to me.

3.5e is better in some respects. It has more structure. It makes more sense, in a limited capacity. The rulebooks are much more poorly written. They are extremely repetitive. I appreciate the crafting system, because it unifies spells, magic items, and provides the ability to create new spells. In 5e, there's not really a difference between rods, wands, and staffs.

In my 5e games, I've been surprised at how useless the low level wizards have been. That statement is flamebait, and I've seen it in action

In 5e, magic users, and wizards in particular, have been nerfed hard. No matter how you phrase it (and I've seen people try), wizards are much much less powerful in 5e.  Yes ... they got ritual spells, disposed of Vancian magic, and got some silly cantrip pseudo archery attacks, sure;  but they have fewer slots, less spell selection, no ability to create magical items or bank spells, all the spells have been made less powerful, and no ability to create new spells.

As a DM, you can add all that back, but it will break 5e's balance. I've heard it said that in 5e, all classes are magic users. Well, I have to say, in 5e, all classes are fighters. Chew on that?

Full disclosure. I like 3.5e wizards.  I feel that unfair level of power is appropriate  —  when you read Order of the Stick or other D&D fantasy literature, the wizards are 3.5e style powerful. It feels wrong and disappointing to me for wizards not to hold Earth-shattering power. (But, my first character was a melee tank, who once dealt ~150 damage in one turn.)   Restricting a wizard to a supporting "role" instead of encouraging a supporting role seems like a loss to me. Who would want to play a wizard then? If you don't get earth shattering powers? Non-earth-shattering powers is mundane, and I'm playing a fantasy game.

Detractors will argue for the poor oppressed mundanes. As a DM, you have the power to make everybody cool. You can keep balance in check, allow wizards to be powerful in and of themselves, and keep fighters and the like out of their shadow. If a wizard is overshadowing a fighter, talk to the wizard, tell them to get off his toes.

And/or maybe beef up the fighter. In 3.5e you could add a prestige class. I'm sure you can figure something out in 5e.

Anyway, if you love balance and hate wizards and 3.5e, you're in good company with 5e. But if you love rules to the bone, you might like 3.5e better. Or if you somehow want to be involved in what I consider the DM's work, you might like 3.5e.

Regardless, 5e has easier to remember rules, is better balanced, easier to introduce new people to, is on the other side of the scales from the abstruse algebraic systems with idiosyncratic notations, and you can always modify it to make it imba. So I approve of 5e, but I have to say —

I had to do a lot of research to understand it. I feel like a 500 page, non-wandering, topical, focused essay on the art of DMing and RPG gaming would do wonders for a D&D 5e companion book. Because those missing rules — they are missing — it is good that they are not hard and fast, but it is bad that there are few well motivated optional functionality modules which you can pop into your game to improve it.

Long story short — make it up when you feel like something is missing, and find what inspires you — really inspires, not what you think inspires you or you think will improve your knowledge. Be fair, attentive, and pro-active.

PS On the topic of good combats — Angry wrote an article titled something "Running Combats like a M#@&*^## Dolphin". Having an efficient style, having a style at all, to running a combat, as he describes, speeds combats up and makes them seem more interesting. I mean, it only speeds it up a little bit, but come on.

Just as useful — building good combats — if they're dragging on, get them over with as soon as possible. If you're employing good tactics for your baddies, and/or providing useful tactical features, you might be prolonging the battle. You don't have to stop doing that, but do be aware of it. So, you can just throw falling lava into the battle, and KAPOW, both sides take damage faster! Fight end sooner! And adding interesting features is standard advice, but *active* features — if the PCs don't use them, let the NPCs use them. That way even "passive" features are active — and I prefer to deal side-neutral damage than provide cover or healthy unrelenting reinforcements. There's some other advice out there, read Angry's long diatribes.

Also, standard DMG advice — use objectives. So what you say? How will that speed combat? Make sure to change the situation enough to cause a re-evaluation of how best to achieve the objective, and BAM, a properly applied change might reduce battle time.

And, what? You are doing nothing now but just attacking over and over again? Just call it. Unless your players rebel. "They don't stand a chance." "You guys are heading for TPK ... "

I guess I have had trouble running combats in the past.