#and yeah there is a discussion about how that's mostly done out of convenience and not bi rep

[hexelein]

Everytime someone hc the stardew valley bachelors and bachlerottes as monosexual or uses the word "playersexual" a fairy dies

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for S; the puzzle trap sex-room. tw: discussion of past dubcon/underage sex, past grooming, unhealthy coping mechanisms. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

"It's fine, Jesus," Superboy says, more than a little frustrated with literally every-fucking-thing at this point. "I mean the pollen and the livestreaming and the deathtrap were all extremely fucking shitty but for, like, the millionth time, it was just sex." 

"Sex with someone that you aren't attracted to who is a gender that you aren't attracted to," Robin says tightly, clenching his fists down by his sides. Superboy does not look anywhere near Superman. 

Goddammit, he thinks. 

"No," he says, just pretending they're alone in this stupid cave because it's not actually cool to make Robin think the situation is any worse than it already is, and Robin's the one who already got upset enough to fucking puke over the situation, so . . . "Like I was kinda annoyed over the hair-pulling thing and you were pretty pushy and I definitely did want a condom involved, but–just, look, that problem is not a problem, alright? Neither of those problems are, uh . . . problems. And what do you care, anyway, nobody's gonna think you're into dick just because you got roofied into oblivion and fucked the only convenient mouth in the room." 

God, though, only he could ever possibly be enough of a fucking loser to end up having to confess to the stupid sexuality crisis he's been having in the fucking Batcave. In front of Batman. In front of Superman! Like–sure, why not, this might as well happen. Why not! 

Robin stares at him. 

"You have a crush on me?" he asks in obvious disbelief. 

"I didn't say I had a crush on you, Jesus," Superboy grumbles, re-folding his arms and very, very firmly still not looking anywhere near Superman. Or anywhere near Batman either, just while he's at it. But admittedly it's mostly Superman he's not looking at. "Ego much, birdboy?" 

"You have a crush on me," Robin repeats, covering his face with his hands again, and Superboy scowls at him and does not blush. "You have a crush on me and I made you go down on me in a deathtrap without even kissing you first." 

"Brush your teeth and we'll talk," Superboy says with a dismissive shrug, since Robin again did very literally just puke in that trash can and all. And like, yeah, the guy doesn't even like guys, but the flippancy is just a reflex at this point. 

Robin splays his fingers and stares at him. 

"Go to therapy and we'll talk," he says. Superboy scowls at him again. Rude. 

“Look who’s fucking talking, Bat-boy,” he says. “Are we all done freaking out about nothing now? Can I go get back to my life, please?” 

“Superboy, if you would be willing to talk to . . . someone . . .” Superman starts in a very careful tone that Superboy immediately hates the sound of. 

“Yeah, no,” he says in exasperation, just–not looking at him, still. “Therapy is for supervillains in Gotham and civilians fresh out of crisis situations, not for perfectly fine active duty superheroes who are just bad at problem-solving under pressure.” 

“You solved the puzzle perfectly, actually,” Batman says, just as neutral as before. 

“How are you making that sound like a bad thing?!” Superboy demands, shooting him a dirty look.

[ladykailitha]

Icarus Part 13

Hello! I've cut my backlog literally in half with this move and while I hate seeing it that low (seven chapters I have waiting to be published) that is it's point after all.

After the nice meeting with Nancy, Robin brings the news to the boys who have a much different perspective on the issue.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

~

Robin was the last to arrive at Steve’s swanky apartment. Spence was on the grill frying up her tofu burger first so the meat wouldn’t touch hers. Simon and Shane were in a heated discussion about Brandon Sanderson and his contribution to the fantasy genre. Her best friend was coming out of the kitchen with all sorts of vegan options for her to chose from.

She went over and greeted him with a kiss on the cheek, taking a couple of the bowls from him so he could go back and get more.

Once everyone had gotten their food and settled in Robin told them about her meeting with Nancy and Chrissy.

“So she’s going to apologize to our Stevie?” Simon asked around a bite of his potato salad.

Robin nodded stabbing her salad with a fork. “That’s what she said. I’ll believe it when I see it, though.” She took a bite of her food.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “Though ti doesn’t surprise me she’s not with Jonathan anymore.”

Robin tilted her head with a frown. “What do you mean?”

He sighed and pushed his food away not feeling very hungry at the moment. “Both of us had been pretty vocal about the white picket fence and the two point five kids. I’ve changed my mind on that obviously,” he waved at all of them. “But Jonathan was always his mom and Will first, especially after Will’s kidnapping. He was never going to be ambitious in the way she wanted.”

“His little brother got kidnapped?” Shane asked in wide-eyed shock. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah, it was this whole thing,” Steve said, nodding and leaning back on his chair, propping his arm on the back. “But everyone knew that despite all his dreams of being a wild life photographer, he was always going to pick somewhere close to home.”

“So yeah,” Robin said rolling her eyes and cocking her head. “She said she as going to apologize, but I told her she had to that and a shit ton of grovelling before I would consider her to rep the band.”

Steve phone went off and he picked it up. He frowned at the number. He answered it with a confused, “Hello?”

“Steve? Steve Harrington?” the cool feminine voice asked.

“That’s me,” he replied sitting up in his seat. “How can I help you?”

“It’s Nancy Wheeler,” she said after a moment. “I got your number from the record label, I hope that’s okay.”

“Uh, yeah,” he said in surprise. “Yeah, that’s fine. Wow, the Nancy Wheeler. We were just talking about your meeting with Celeste earlier.”

“Oh,” Nancy said, “I was hoping to call after you had finished speaking with her about it. I can call later.”

Steve shook his head. “Nah, it’s fine. We were mostly done anyway. We were just having dinner.”

“Are you sure?” she pressed. “If you’re eating, I could call back later tonight or even at a convenient time tomorrow?”

Steve rolled his eyes and Shane covered his mouth to hide the bubble of laughter that sprang to his lips. “I said it was fine. How are you? I understand you’re a hot shot music agent now.”

He could almost feel her smile on the other end when she said, “Something like that.”

She cleared her throat. “I’m actually calling to see you wanted to meet me for lunch tomorrow, I wanted to catch up and well...really to apologize. We were both so young, but that was no reason to treat you the way I did.”

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose and put his elbow on the table to prop up the hand that was holding the phone. “You’re right, it wasn’t. But sure, I have a few days off, I could meet you for lunch tomorrow. What time and where?”

Nancy gave him the information and then rang off. Steve threw his phone on the table next to his plate and threw himself against the back of the chair in frustration.

“Well color me shocked,” Robin said with a raised eyebrow. “I didn’t think she would actually go for it. Chrissy and I were actually going to go through another list of agents to find one more suitable.”

Spence rubbed the bottom of his lip. “I’m not sure I like the idea of Steve going alone. Because she can say she apologized and that Steve was unreasonable and get us blacklisted for other agents.”

Steve felt an uneasy twist to his stomach at that. But not just that, he just didn’t trust her. He didn’t even know how he was talked into letting her into his life in the first place. She was all apologies now, but what about later? What about after she finds out Steve and Eddie are dating? Would that be a conflict of interest? What if she’s homophobic? What if she outs him before he has a chance to do it himself?

“Steve.”

He came to himself with a start. He looked around to see that everyone was looking at him in concern.

“Hey, hon,” Shane said, tilting his head down to look at Steve. “You doing alright? You don’t look so good.”

He didn’t see Robin but as he came further into himself he could feel the warmth of her hand as she rubbed circles around the pulse point on his wrist.

“There you are, dingus,” she said with a teasing lit to her tone. “You really had us worried for a minute. Where did you go?”

Steve let out a shuddering sigh and then another. “Sorry, I guess I just got caught in a spiral of bad thoughts.”

Robin’s other hand came up to squeeze his. “We don’t have to take her as our agent,” she murmured. “Hell don’t even have to go talk to her if you don’t want to. Or we can all go. Whatever makes you comfortable.”

“I don’t think she’s apologizing to Steve because she’s actually sorry,” Simon said with a sneer, “I think she’s doing it because she sees dollar signs. If she signs with us that is going to make her a shit ton of money and open her up to even bigger clients. Corroded Coffin was already established when they hired her but if we hit the stratosphere while she’s repping us she’ll be in a sweet spot to have the doors open for her.”

Robin stood up. “I guess what I’m hearing is that none of you trust her with Steve. She already knows who each of the band is, because she signed the NDA. But just say the word and I’ll walk away.”

Steve took a deep breath and let it out slow. “I want to hear her out. If she’s actually sincere. But you’re all right, I can’t go alone.”

“Take Robin,” Spence suggested. “She’ll expect you to bring your best friend.”

Shane shook his head. “I think he should take one of us. Maybe Simon, he’s the most ripped out of all of us. I want him protected.”

“I’m down,” Simon replied with a grin.

Robin shook her head, a sly grin on her face. “No, no. Take Eddie.”

“What the fuck?” Simon said rearing his head back, offended. “Why him and not me?”

She put her hands on her hips. “Because he encompasses everything we need. A good friend, who won’t let her walk all over him, like me. An imposing guy like Simon. He might not look like much out of the leathers, but in them and he looks like he could snap you in two. Also, he’s worked with her for a number of years and would be a better judge of if she’s being genuine.”

Spence and Shane shared a glance.

“Sorry, darling,” Shane said with a shrug, “I’m gonna have to go with Robbie on this one. Plus, she’s going to have to know about their relationship anyway.”

Spence chewed on his bottom lip fitfully.

“What’s on your mind, Spence?” Steve asked. “I smell your hair burning from here!”

Spence snorted, “Oh fuck off!” But a giggle escaped anyway.

“You got a problem with Eddie?” Robin asked tilting her head to the side as she regarded their drummer.

Spence waved his hands in front of him. “Oh hell no! It’s not about Eddie, it’s not really about Steve going to meet Nancy.”

Simon frowned and put an arm around him. “What’s going on then?”

“Steve is being too nice about this whole thing,” he murmured. “She didn’t just cheat. She didn’t just string him along. She knew going into the relationship what Steve wanted. Yeah, it’s bit unrealistic to imagine marrying your high school sweetheart. But there is a reason it’s so prevalent in all our media. Because it can happen, because it has happened before. And then her excuse was that Steve wasn’t ambitious enough? Why?”

Steve furrowed his brow as he thought about it. That was an unusual dig. He was a senior in high school, how much more ambitious did she want.

Robin shrugged and said to fill the silence, “I’m not sure because I didn’t become friends with Steve until after the whole mess, but my guess is that he wanted to take what the Europeans call a gap year. A year to just be a kid before jumping into college.”

“Something my parents weren’t fond of either, if I’m honest,” Steve scoffed.

Shane waved his hand toward Steve to indicate that was most likely the cause. “And there it is. It’s so insane everyone expecting to kids to go right into school without taking the time to figure out what you want to do with your life. Hell, you have to apply in January. That’s half way through your senior year. You’re supposed to know what you want in life before you even finish high school? That’s fucked up on all levels.” Through the whole rant, he gestured wildly with his hands.

“I didn’t get to into college my first try,” she said, “Because my parents made too much for me to get assistance but not enough for them to pay for it themselves. And then I met you guys and the rest is history.”

There were nods all around.

“It is up to Stevie to forgive her,” Simon said with a grimace. “But some part of me doesn’t want him to.”

Steve straightened up in his chair. “Why not?” He cocked his head to side, looking like a confused puppy dog.

Simon huffed out a sigh and squirmed in his chair, looking down at his food. He poked at the top of his hamburger bun, picking at the sesame seeds.

“You shouldn’t have to sacrifice your ego for us to get a good agent.”

The silence that followed filled the air with a thick sinking feeling.

Steve straightened his spine. “I’m not the weak-willed, touch-starved kid she remembers. I have three of the best mates a guy could ask for, a platonic soulmate, and a boyfriend that loves me for me. If she thinks she can swan into my life and walk all over me like she did before, she has another think coming. I’ll meet up with her and take Eddie. But make it absolutely clear, I have everyone’s backing on this. If I walk away, we all walk away.”

There was still some grumbling, but it was ultimately it was up to Steve. He made the necessary calls and then they settled down to finish their dinner.

Slowly the mood improved as the night went on, but it never did reach the heights of a laid back night with friends.

~

Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25

Tag List: Four slots remaining

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3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @blondie1006

4- @yikes-a-bee @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten

5- @genderless-spoon @y4r3luv @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

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9- @weirdandabsurd42 @useless-nb-bisexual @stripey82 @dotdot-wierdlife @kal-ology

10- @sadisticaltarts

[shashapato]

Willtresor Analysis

The shippers will be fed with these posts I have queued up. 😔🫶✨

Warning: This post will discuss the toxic nature of the ship, mostly based on my own experiences with people like Monty. The purpose of this post is not to glorify unhealthy relationships but to *understand* the ship better.

Also I am NOT a mental health specialist, just someone very interested in psychology. Apologies if the terms are not accurate.

-Analysis of Montresor’s Behaviour-

• Montresor is a lovebomber, like many manipulators and ab*sive partners are. I suspect the reason Will is so heads-over-heels in love is because in the maze, Montresor had been the first person, probably in a long while, to ever treat Will like he is *special*. He uses the first time they meet to give Will the impression he is a ‘good guy’.

Proof:

*Once Lenore asks him to name one nice thing Monty’s done for him and he couldn’t think of anything, Will reminds himself of when they first met because that’s probably the time Monty was nicest to him. So, yeah, he’s in deep denial.*

*And note the fact that Monty is reaching out for Will’s hand. That’ll be relevant for our next point.*

• Monty seems to use the push-pull method. Similar to when he manipulated Ada, he takes advantage of when Will is at his lowest to become this ‘God’, this ‘saviour’. Then, he takes it away completely (aka he treats Will like shit) and leaves Will desperate for more affection.

Proof:

*After the manor arc, Montresor lets Will take a nap on his arm despite throwing a fit about Will touching him a few episodes earlier thus, the perfect example of the push-pull method. After denying Will what he wants, he gives it, to remind Will who is in charge*

*Back to the hands part, I believe Monty has made physical contact their ‘currency’, which he will withdraw and give whenever it is convenient to keep Will in line.*

Adding onto that, second proof:

*Will’s love language is definitely touch. LOOK AT THAT HUG. Montresor knows this and this is why touch is their ‘currency’.*

• Though, I do suspect Montresor is actually touch averse from his trauma, so if the push-pull theory is incorrect, (and it could be because he doesn’t do it to Ada) it’ll mean he really just doesn’t know how to love. This gives Willtresor a chance to *blossom.*

*Yes, I will add it in every Willtresor post. See that Montresor is the one initiating contact? MHMHM.*

• Lastly, I wanna end this section off by saying BOTH of Montresor’s romantic relationships that are shown in the series are with women who he sees as ‘lesser’, much like how he sees Will. Therefore, I think Monty and Ada’s relationship is the same as or used to be what Willtresor has.

-Analysis of Will’s Behaviour-

• Will’s problem is possibly that he loves Montresor only for that one thing he did in the maze. He is in denial and keeps hanging onto the hope that his ab*ser might turn out to be that ‘good guy’ after all. Much like most Willtresor fans are hoping.

• If it’s not obvious enough, neither of them were truly ‘loved’ in their life and IT SHOWS!!! But both of them have very different ways to cope with this. While Montresor wants to have power over others and use their ‘devotion’ to fill the void, Will lands on the other side of the spectrum, trying to please everyone in an attempt to feel like *someone* cares for him even if they don’t.

Proof:

*Literally the entire series, so I don’t know what to put.*

• Also, just wanted to mention how pure Will’s love for Monty is and how easy Montresor, or anyone really, can manipulate this.

Proof:

*Two instances of Will looking at Monty. First one being when they are walking with Annabel’s group; he has no reason to look at him but yet he did by instinct. Shows how he has it fully engraved in his mind that Monty is his one and only real friend. 😭 Sweet, sure, but also SCARY AS HECK.*

*Not entirely relevant, but to keep this post light-hearted: Monty also seems to look at Will instinctively too.*

Next proof:

*He respects Montresor’s boundaries oml. Will, while drunk and panicked, stopped himself before touching Monty because he’d said earlier not to. HE IS A SWEETHEART AHHHHH.*

And also, Will being such a lovesick idiot led to:

Yup. That concludes my speech on why Will’s puppy love for Monty is freaking terrifying.

-Overall-

• There is a chance this ship will bring forth the greatest redemption arc ever for Monty, but also a chance it’ll lead to either one or both of their downfalls.

More theories on this will be posted when I’m free. When it is posted, I will link it here.

(Please, please, please like this post. 😭 I love writing theories lol. If y’all like it too, I can keep going.)

[utilitycaster]

You nailed why I'm having trouble with Laudna. Another moment for me is her shortness with Orym when pleading to FCG, some of it potentially explained by Marisha in 4SD: how fucked up the lack of intervention + nod were, Laudna's feelings on it all, potential conflict down the road, etc. But when you see the episode itself, Marisha is pretty clear Laudna isn't really aware of her friends at all, that nothing was going to stop her from killing Bor'Dor. 1/2

I usually don't mind inconsistencies at all, because as people we are never realistically consistent 100% of the time, we aren't always in character, so to speak. But some of this feels inconsistent with what has actually happened and is happening, with the text itself, so it feels so jarring. Anyway, I understand if you don't want to post this, just happy you can put to words what I have trouble articulating myself. 2/2

----

Hi anon, thanks! Yeah...I don't actually mind Laudna having conflicting feelings about Bor'Dor, but she doesn't know Orym's underlying motivations (I don't actually find the lack of intervention to be remotely fucked up. Nod kind of is, but I think that's the other thing. We're just guessing at who she's lashing out at, if anyone in particular.)

I think. if I may, the reason all this discussion of Laudna's weaknesses as a character is coming up now is because it was always an issue, but between how much stronger her concept seemed during the Team Issylra arc, the return of Delilah (always a weak point) and the fact that the story itself has hit its stride and a number of other characters have sharpened their focus while she's in many ways taken a step back, conceptually.

I think as others have pointed out, it's 65 episodes in and Marisha's answer in 4SD to any questions about the character concept is still "nightmare about creepy girl." Like, that's fine as a starting point, but what is Laudna trying to achieve? What are you exploring with this? What is she going to do about Delilah now? Will we get any sustained payoff of her grappling with the fact that not everything is fine, or will proximity to Imogen continue to act like a rapid dose of sedative?

What did she do in 30 years, because all we have is "made Pate", "got kicked out of a bunch of villages but also this hasn't been consistently backed up by people's responses to her during the campaign so it feels off", "and got to Marquet" (NO understanding of how she got here, which is pretty egregious). Again, the comparisons that keep being drawn in a matter intended to bolster her relationship with Imogen constantly keep detracting from it - Fjord and Jester had known each other for a few weeks or so prior to the campaign and it felt like it, as did Caleb and Veth's several-month friendship, as does even FCG and Ashton's vague cohabitation of convenience. There is simply no sense of knowing each other for two years. I talked about players who are masterful with negative space recently, and this is the opposite - the missing pieces do not suggest a shape we cannot fully discern. They just fall unused onto the floor.

Even the mechanical build feels mostly designed around a directionless aesthetic. Like, genuinely, why is her base level warlock if she showed signs of magical talent prior to Delilah possessing her? It's not even particularly mechanically superior for her to have done this! Warlock/Sorcerer isn't a strong multiclass anyway, and leaning into sorcerer in a party with a different sorcerer whose engaging with that thematically far more, and not really doing any other work into her opposition of Delilah makes it worse. When you add in that Pate is both one of the more recognizable aspects of the character but Marisha at one point said she had no original intentions of taking that third level in warlock (the one that granted him existence), it all becomes more baffling. And to be clear, characters can take unexpected turns; but there wasn't work done within the story that indicated a level of warlock would make sense (and in fact it would have made more sense to have fought it harder!) There's such a passivity to her warlock side - it's not even an open embrace of darker power, despite what she's said, it's just losing control, which to be honest destroys everything interesting about it, while simultaneously making the stakes of her breaking that pact low. Like, oh, you lose 3 levels and you still have 7 levels of sorcerer? Why haven't you done it then. You were level 7 like a month ago. You'll get better.

I know this all sounds harsh but I think the most recent episode just showed that, pun unintended, there is a hollowness to the characterization and when significant changes to the status quo or thorny philosophical conversations occur, there isn't a solid enough foundation to support the improvisation. There's no sign of intentionality beyond the initial "be spooky." Like, why bring in Whitestone and never consistently explore what it was like living under the Briarwood occupation as a commoner, or what it means to have Delilah in your head? Every piece of the arc feels like it's dropped and picked up when convenient and stops existing when it's not. Like...I don't dislike Laudna, and she has good scenes with characters other than Imogen, and there have been characters I have disliked either for a stretch of episodes early on, or for their entire run, but it just feels like an unprecedented lack of thought into how this character will actually exist and do things for a full campaign. I can't dislike her for her personality or ideology because there's not enough of it to dislike.

[loveskilljoy]

Ok so like. Heimdall. Love him, hate him, whatever—I feel as though a Rather Large Point of his character is often overlooked, and its actually one of the most important parts ! So, I wanted to make a (mildly longwinded) post about both his personality and how its a stellar example of Odin and the abuse he’s so frequently described as having put his “family” through. TW’s for discussions of emotional and psychological abuse from a parental figure, the cycle of abuse, and a very brief mention of alcoholism 

First and foremost, this post is NOT to excuse some of the genuinely shitty things Heimdall is responsible for both in the present setting of the game and things mentioned in the past (by Mimir, mostly). There is certainly plenty that he has done wrong. What this post is about is one of the most frequently misunderstood aspects of him; which is that while yeah, he’s definitely an asshole—especially for having spoken to Literal Kids like that I mean cmon Atreus is like 13—but there is ABSOLUTELY a reason for that! Does that excuse it? Not at all ! But it does give an immense amount of insight into both Heimdall and Odin as characters. Primarily, it’s an excellent example of how Odin just Loves to nurture codependency, and that his way of going about that often involves whittling a person down to whichever traits he thinks will make it most convenient for him to bend to his will/manipulate. This is obviously seen with Thor pretty explicitly in game, Odin commenting that he’s really only good for fighting and drinking, but I 100% believe the same has and continues to happen with Heimdall. His outwardly haughty, somewhat conceited/holier-than-thou attitude that boils down to everyone else being beneath him in some way are simply the traits that Odin has made him out to be—over lifetimes. He is special because he has Gjallarhorn, he is better and smarter because he was gifted foresight, and the job of protecting his home from threats. He is Odin’s most trusted and loyal confidant, and for a guy who likely wants admiration and pride from the All-Father more so than anyone else in Asgard, that’s reason enough to be completely at his will. It’s why he’s so absurdly faithful to Odin. Because really, what is Heimdall without any of those things? He can’t fight for the life of him, he’s not nearly built for that. He’s still obviously pretty young (even in god terms) so it’s not as though he’s fit for being a general or war counsel. So, strip away the foresight and illusion of an elevated position, and you get a kid who just... desperately wants to prove himself to his dad. A kid who gets shoved away at the top of a wall on his own for eons. Which, might I mention, Heimdall basically says upon meeting Atreus. LIKE THE PROJECTION IS LOUD

With all that said, in my very sporadic and probably a little incomprehensible way, it really isn’t a surprise that he acts the way he does—because he’s reacting to trauma. Of course he’s going to lean completely into the egotistical act, because that’s all that he is. And, most importantly, when he’s in a position in which that identity is questioned, he like. IMMEDIATELY crumbles and retreats in on himself in a way that’s goddamn blatant in one of the very first cutscenes with him: after his fight with Atreus. Unfortunately Tumblr adamantly refuses to let me post this damn scene as a video so we’re just gonna have to make do with pictures BUT. But... the fact that he sobers up so quickly in Odin’s presence, his determination in convincing him that Atreus is of ill intent (because. yk. thats Heimdall’s JOB) and the way his expression drops as soon as Odin shows even a Hint of being disappointed in him. LIKE. LOOK AT THIS. 

I know I definitely read his expression as confusion the first time I watched this scene, but upon multiple rewatches it’s pretty fucking clear that isn’t what this is. Heimdall isn’t confused at Odin’s reactions, he’s scared. Of Odin. Genuinely I implore you to go give this scene another watch because the way he whispers the “But... All-Father...” line sounds like he’s damn near about to cry.  WITH ALL OF THAT SAID ! Heimdall is shown rather brilliantly in his introduction on the sheer basis that we, as the player, are supposed to read him as a jerk with a stick-up-his-ass, only to then see that demeanor falter entirely in the presence of his father. He is a living, breathing example (as much as Thor is) of the effects Odin’s manipulation and abuse have on all that he’s supposedly close with and I think it’s a facet that tends to get forgotten amidst a large portion of the fandom piling on hate for Heimdall. Which is to say, if you hate him, that’s absolutely fine! he’s uh. Not designed to be a likeable guy. What Heimdall is designed to be is a representation of trauma and unhealthy coping mechanisms, of which his character shows splendidly in multiple instances even outside of the stuff I’ve shown here. In the hopes of not letting this post get any more egregious in its length than it already is, these are the main things I’m going to cover. but just. Yeah, got tired of seeing takes saying he’s a one dimensional character when he’s obviously got a lot to him !!!!

[lastlymatt]

You make very good points comparing book and tv Alex, thanks for replying to my ask! I clearly have not reread the books in a while so I should go do that :)

And you are very right about tv!Alex being naive. Yes, I felt he was more mature than book!Alex in the way he presents himself generally, and maybe this is partly due to his appearance on screen vs what I used to envision of book!Alex. But you are right that a lot of his actions and decisions are very naive.

Going to scorpia knowing it's a literal terrorist organization and not only not wanting to kill anyone but not even trying to pretend he's into it so that he could go in undercover? He's lucky Yassen had his back or he'd be so dead.

There were many moments in the show where I did go, 'Alex, come on,' when he was doing something stupid. But maybe I have rose tinted glasses on or expect little, because I love the show enough that I'm like, 'okay they have low budget, I get that they can't film everything, I can look past this plot point/plot armor/lazy writing because I know they don't have the time/budget for everything.' But hey, again, maybe I should have higher expectations anyway haha.

Like having Tom and Kyra somehow so easily show up on Malagosto and do surveillance without getting caught. The department leaving the flash drive in the computer for no reason. Alex getting into Mrs. Jones' apartment so easily, and conveniently having no earpiece so that Yassen couldn't hear what happened?

I spotted all of that and the rest, but let it go. I think I am just so glad we have this show that I'll take what we get 😅

It makes complete sense to assume that TV!Alex is more mature than book!Alex! TV!Alex isn't as sassy as his book counterpart and mostly comes across as calmer and more mature. This might also have something to do with the fact that we don't get to hear Alex's thoughts like we do in the books.

Yes, he is incredibly lucky Yassen had his back; otherwise, I'm not sure what TV!Nile would've done to him (Nile is another character who is very different from his book counterpart, but someone else I believe already talked about that)

Believe me, I utterly adore this show! It made so many improvements on the original material, which is also why I think it's important to point out the parts where it stumbled. Those are also often the bits that generate interesting discussions. But also, those faults can be explained very often with a little suspension of disbelief.

And yeah, I can absolutely see those things as faults, but it's also not very fun when Scorpia has all the cards and knows how to block their plans perfectly. Scorpia needs weaknesses that can be exploited! An all-powerful organisation that makes no mistakes is honestly boring and no fun.

Some of these things make sense if you consider that Scorpia, specifically Julia, feels complacent and overconfident. They managed to make the world believe that they were dead and gone while they continued to work in the shadows. Why would they worry so much about guarding one of their hard-to-reach training facilities against two untrained teenagers?

Also, it's nice to show off that Alex isn't the only one with skills since the TV series so heavily emphasises the importance of friends, family, and teamwork.

I fully agree with you about the flash drive issue. They tried to excuse it later but come on, you should be more paranoid than that!

Alex getting into Mrs Jones' apartment so easily is almost exactly like it went in the book (as far as I remember), so that is on Ahorz. And Alex can have a little competence as a treat before his breakdown 🙃

I honestly hadn't considered the idea of Yassen giving him an earpiece! I think it would've been caught by the metal detector, maybe? But this can also be chalked up to Yassen trusting his boy.

So yeah, it may have its issues, but I also genuinely believe it is one of the better adaptations I've seen in a very long time despite the many changes, and I couldn't be happier with what we got!

[fayes-fics]

Eleanor, you feedback slays me 🥹🥹 I never know how to respond so here I present my inadequate ramblings:

You are so very kind to give me your prompts on how you wanted the rest of this series to go, without you it wouldn’t exist. So thank YOU. I’m happy you enjoyed what I came up with 🫶

I’m glad you picked up on the Benace being a little, well convenient, with his timing of his declaration haha. Let’s face it, if he didn’t have very real competition he might not be as honest about his feelings (tsk men) but he is always trying to win his place and I’m glad she stands firm on her stance about Anthony. But he is also indeed sweet enough to build them a little nest in front of the fire, bless him.

I’m so glad you enjoy when I throw in tiny bits of humour. I dunno, I mean I know I’m a frustrated stand up so I’m biased lol, but humour during intimacy to me is so real and shows trust. So for me it’s a like a shorthand for “these guys are really into each other k peeps?” Lol

I’m happy you enjoyed the massage description, done right as you know can be utter bliss and yeah you are going to make filthy noises heheh. I mean how can those big Benace hands not be amazing at massage heheh (you are one to speak about hand porn and your whole series about it lolol)

Yes a lot of this fic I wanted to be about redressing balance. So her biting him back (at his insistence), her getting aftercare after not getting any from Anthony at least twice, her getting a declaration she deserves but also someone offering her a way out of the dilemma by stepping aside (it was always going to be self sacrificing Ben, as much as he’s a Benace, under it all he’s still a heart of gold that intuits and puts others needs first)….. just so much about her getting Succour in more ways than one, innit? (I think about this theme shit far too much don’t I? It’s porn Faye, stop trying to add multi layers of dimensionality)

Soo Anthony. I wanted to play this so different to how a lot of cliched movies would do, where he storms in angry that she’s cheating. Mostly because they never discussed exclusivity but also because that’s not him when in love imo. He dealt with his anger before he came to find her, that he has moved beyond it into decisive action. He would only storm his brothers house knowing what he might find if it was for a grand gesture (and there isn’t much grander lol). It was important to me he showed vulnerability around his jealousy of their soft intimacy and that he felt it unfair she never asked for that from him awww. He’s just a softie under the hard shell afterall 🥹

Also I wanted both men to show their vulnerability so it made the choice for her that much harder mwhahah. And indeed imo it’s an impossible choice. Two sides of a coin indeed. Both wonderful in their individual ways. I’d never be able to choose. So indeed I took the cowardly way out and went for a choose your own adventure ending lol.

Anyway I’ve rambled on as if this silly word crime is worthy of it and it’s not lol. I just wanted to be thorough in my response as you deserve it. Thank you thank you for always been a wonderful supportive friend 🫶🥹😁🧡🧡

Succour

Double Bind Masterpost PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Follow on to Reprimand. Benedict soothes your pain and Anthony makes a bold choice.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, oral sex (m to f), vaginal sex, massage, aftercare. Affection, emotions, confessions and proposals. Mildly angsty maybe (?)

Word Count: 5.7 k

Authors Note: Last planned fic in this series. Thank you to @colettebronte for betaing. Requested by and dedicated to @eleanor-bradstreet, who framed most of the last three fics in this series. I errr hope everyone likes this. Enjoy(?) <3

The next evening you steal away to Benedict’s lodging under cover of darkness, paying your footman some pin money to take you there in a carriage after dinner.  

You managed to avoid your family for the day, hiding in your room and claiming you had a headache as a way to disguise your discomfort. Anthony’s harsh treatment, which at the time felt like penance, absolution, even, now feels tender. Blooms on your skin that you can hide from everyone… except the man you have arranged to see tonight. You consider not going through with the plan to meet until you are healed, but you can’t resist him any more than you can his older brother. 

You hide behind a large velvet hooded cloak as you step down from the carriage and bustle to the door already opening before you get to it. It’s not the valet that greets you, as you expect, but the man himself.

“Y/n,” Benedict greets and, glancing around the deserted street, closes the door. You both know no one comes for art instruction after 10 pm; if you are seen, there will be talk.

“He knows Benedict!” you lament the instant the door closes, removing your heavy cloak. “Anthony. He called at my house while I was here two days ago; he knows we were together. Oh god. I have no idea what to do!!!” 

All day you had managed to keep a lid on your simmering anxiety about what transpired with Anthony, primarily through denial. But seeing his brother, it all comes tumbling out of you.

“Shhh, shhh,” he soothes and places his hands on your shoulders as if considering taking you into an embrace but deciding against it. “All will be well. He only knows that you were here, not what we got up to,” he tries to reason.

“Benedict, you left teeth marks on my inner thigh!” you bemoan. “He's not stupid. I tried to claim it was something else, but, dear god, your brother is not that obtuse… I honestly don't know what he will do,” you fret. “He looked so hurt and sent me away last night.”

“He has no claim of exclusivity over you,” Benedict points out, very much wanting that to be true as much as it may be objectively questionable. 

“He told me, in no uncertain terms, that he thought it was clear he is the only one I should be with.”

“And has he made similar promises to you? Because if not, that feels distinctly unfair. For all you know, he could be with another.”

You pause for a moment. Benedict is right. Anthony made no such claim of devotion, merely that you should only be with him, not that he should only be with you also.

“He did not,” you admit.

Benedict curls the arms on your shoulders and draws you into his embrace. His scent, the one that makes your mouth water, surrounds you as your cheek is crushed onto his breastbone. Instead of just arousing, tonight it is also comforting. Safe. You band your arms around his waist and take a deep breath, burrowing into him—taking refuge.

“My girl. I cannot speak for him, but I would devote myself to you wholly. I would never be with another as long as you give me the word that is what you desire,” the words vibrate against your jaw as they rumble in his chest.

You know that Benedict is trying to twist the situation to his advantage, but nonetheless, you believe him and appreciate the honesty behind his words. It’s just not something you want to contemplate tonight.

“Do not, Benedict,” you warn. “Please. I cannot think of the future right now,” you pull back and look pleadingly into his eyes. “I just wish to live for the now, for tonight. I need touch, kisses….” you trail off in a whisper.

He nods in understanding and wordlessly takes your hand, pulling you into his drawing room, where the heavy velvet drapes are already helpfully closed, and a fire is roaring. It feels like a place of comfort.

But when the arm he wraps around your waist makes you wince, a cloud of concern flits over his face.

“What did he do to you?”

“He reprimanded me,” you answer simply. “And I let him. I wanted it. I needed it.”

Benedict shoots you a sorrowful look.

“I do not want your pity Benedict,” you state fiercely, “I choose this.”

“But, my darling girl, there’s a difference between punishment and pain. You appear to be in pain, and it hurts me to see you hurting. Come here,” he pulls you into his arms in a loose embrace, surprisingly sweet. “Let me soothe you,” he murmurs into your hair, placing a kiss on your forehead.

This is not the commanding Benedict he was the last time you met; his tone and touch are gentle. He backs you towards the fireplace, where you feel the warmth from the crackling flames. 

It’s there that he undresses you. He doesn’t tell you to strip. He doesn’t tear your dress off. No, he stands behind you, delicate fingers brushing your spine as he slowly unbuttons between your shoulder blades: just slow breathing and the hiss and pops of sap boiling in those wooden logs. Your dress hits the floor, and he reaches around in front wordlessly to loosen the strings of your chemise until it gapes enough to slip over your shoulders. The second it joins your dress around your ankles, he sucks in a breath.

“Oh, my darling girl, what did he do to you?” He sounds almost tremulous as there are gossamer caresses over the marks where the rope tied you around the waist onto the bench and the flecks on your skin from the riding crop.

“I chose it, Benedict,” you remind, your jaw set defiantly, looking at the flames in the hearth.

“I know you did,” he placates, dropping a featherlight kiss onto your shoulder that makes your heart skip, “but you shouldn’t choose physical pain to alleviate your guilt. Especially not for me,” he adds.

Your eyes raise and dart to him. “That’s not….” Your words of protest die out, trapped by his hazy blue stare, heavy with something unspoken.

He’s right. 

You chose to let yourself be punished more harshly than ever because of how bad you feel for being torn between these two men—these two incredible but so different brothers.

Those gentle hands are at your stays, unwinding the lace through each hole. Intentionally slow, calming, letting you breathe and sigh and relax into the moment. Then when you sway backwards into him, he instantly pauses, and his lips land warm on your neck, sucking so attentively you moan, just soft heat and dampness. No force, no bite, just lucious sensation.

Your hand shoots back into his hair, scraping your nails over his scalp, revelling in the shiver you feel running through his body. You want to give him an indulgent sensual experience too. Your moan is gauzy as your eyes flutter shut, and you tilt your head, pushing your neck up into his mouth for more. He indulges it, warm wet lips kissing your pulse point, taking you to an almost trance-like state, pliant in his arms. 

“Darling, darling girl,” he whispers, then purses his lips and blows warm air over your skin, damp with his saliva, and you shiver from the tenderness. 

So slowly you barely feel it, he peels away your stays until you are topless. 

“Lay down,” he exhales, gesturing to a pile of oversized pillows gathered on the rug in front of the fireplace.

You sink onto them, their warmth from the fire and plush stuffing a wondrous place to be. You sigh deeply and look up at him as he gazes down at you. His eyes covetously roam your breasts.

“Roll over onto your front,” he asks quietly, and you do so, confused why he might want that. He drops to his knees and covers your body with his. You moan lightly as he drops a kiss on the inside of your left arm. He moves and does the same to your right arm. It’s then you realise he is kissing the spots where you have marks. 

Gently, his wet lips trace down over your shoulder to your mid back catching each mark there. You sigh, feeling yourself grow almost drowsy with the heat of the fire and his delicate damp lips. He shuffles lower and spends time mapping the line where the rope lashed you down. Bussing the abrasions softly, your eyes flutter closed, resting your cheek on your joined hands as he salves your skin. 

Time slows when he starts unlooping the tiny buttons at your hip for your silk underwear, carefully pulling the material over the swell of your bottom and slipping it down your legs. Hence, you are entirely naked save your stockings, held by ribbons tied just above your knees.

His name is a breathy sigh on your lips as his open mouth traces warm and wet over your bottom, damply kissing each mark. His tongue lathing gently, swirling motions designed to soothe. Moving down further to the back of your thighs, you start to quiver a little. Wondering if he will push your legs open and drink from your body the way you are desperate for him to do. He spends time kissing the sensitive spots on your inner thighs, his breathing a little ragged, and you know he can smell and see your arousal, your legs open as they are. But he does not touch you there. He crawls back up over your prone body, his voice suddenly right by your ear.

“Does that help, my sweet girl?” he inquires sotto voce, and you nod, floating on a cloud of lush sensation—his saliva drying in patches, evaporating in the warm room. “I want to make you feel so much better,” he intones the genial sincerity so beguiling.

“You have,” you assure, twisting to give him a gentle smile.

“Wait here, do not move an inch,” he advises, dropping a kiss on your temple before standing up and walking out of the room briskly.

You are momentarily confused but too drowsy to be concerned, just closing your eyes and enjoying the warmth and crackle of the fire next to you and the comfort and slight velvet tickle of the cushions under you. You hear him re-enter the room but just ghost a smile without reopening your eyes. He chuckles warmly, and you feel a dip in the cushions as he rejoins you.

“I would like to relieve your ache with a massage, my darling girl.”

“I've never had a massage before,” you answer honestly.

“I will pour oil on your skin and rub my hands over you,” he details, “it will make you feel blissful, I promise.”

“Then go ahead,” you smile, eyes still closed.

He hums, and then there is more movement. Suddenly two warm naked thighs straddle yours, the downy hairs tickling your skin, and your lips part in surprise.

“When did you get undressed, Mr Bridgerton?” 

“I came back into this room naked, but sadly you missed it,” he teases.

Your eyes fly open, and you twist to look at him over your shoulder. “I demand an encore. Get back out there and walk in again,” you order with a slanted pout.

He laughs loudly this time, a sparkly sheen of bemusement over his enlarged pupils. “Sorry, you missed the show. It was a one-time thing,” he peals lighthearted.

Something in the air feels so soft, so sweet, so safe that you feel a pang of yearning that perhaps this could be your life. Living in this lovely cosy townhouse with this caring man who, when you ask, will tie you to the bed and fuck you so hard you scream the house down… but will also do this. Kiss every inch of your skin better. Lay with you in easy loving intimacy.

“I could get used to this, Mr Bridgerton,” you sigh.

“This could be your life,” he responds liltingly, “please choose me.”

“Benedict….” you warn.

“I know, I know,” he exhales, a touch defeated. “I would indeed rather have a part of you than none at all,” he confesses as you feel him place a sheet down next to you, and he opens a small glass bottle.

The air fills with the comforting aroma of calendula and oil. “This herb is good for healing. A number of my friends swear by it for their boxing injuries,” he explains as he rubs the oil into his hands to warm it. “Lay flat,” he advises, and you twist back, arranging your hands under your forehead and closing your eyes.

He begins at your neck, running lines over the tension you carry there. You cannot stop the noise you make as his talented, strong fingers knead at the knots there until they relent. It feels blissful, and all the tension you have carried since Aburey Hall melts away. He moves to your left, then right shoulder and does the same; your whole upper back turns to putty in his arms. His name is a ragged sigh escaping your lips.

He huffs a laugh at your intoxicated state and continues, his hands working their magic. It feels like one hand could span your whole back as he splays his fingers wide and expertly assuages your aches. Mapping down your spine with the side of his hands with a pressure that makes you groan so loud, it sounds entirely wanton. 

“You make the most delightful noises,” he buzzes as he leans over you, his chest warm on your oiled back. 

“Please do not stop,” you slur, drowsy, floating, so relaxed and high on a sea of pleasant brain chemicals. 

“Do you want me to massage every inch of your body?” His voice is dark and sugary.

“Please…” 

An oiled hand slides heavy down your spine, mapping the dip of your waist, then crests over the slope of your bottom cheeks. It keeps going, trailing the cleft of your bum, and your breath catches as his fingers glide lower, between your thighs, over your folds, slick from an entirely different source.

“How about here?” He murmurs smokily. “Do you want me to massage here?”

“God, yes, yes,” you moan and push into his fingers that just rest lightly on your swollen clit, not moving.

“Mmm, I will,” he promises, but you whine as his fingers move away and sweep up the same path to your backbone.

“Don’t tease me,” your plea is a hushed thing as his hands squeeze your shoulders and run up your arms to your hands, where they rest under your chin.

He chuckles warmly, the noise low in his throat. “But it's one of life’s greatest pleasures,” he asserts, lacing his fingers with yours as again those lips are by your ear. “You so very needy and hungry for me is the best high there is,” he sighs, his teeth biting your earring and tugging gently. “I have plans to ensure you are floating on a cloud of wonderment before we…” he trails off with an uncharacteristic bashfulness.

“....fuck?” you supply.

“...make love,” he corrects. 

And something warm unfurls in your chest as he pulls up off your body, and those hands map your skin again, this time on your lumbar region, digging his thumbs in, to the point you cry out in relief and surprise. The unrealised tension you hold in your hips from being bent over that bench by Anthony seems to melt away as Benedict digs in and releases every knot you hold tight in your lower spine. The magic of his skilled hands has you docile and breathing slowly under his ministrations. Eyes closed and floating, just as he said. Your senses dialling back to a languid, almost tenuous hold on your surroundings, your experience rooted in your body and the newfound relaxation he brings to your being.

This time when his hand slips lower, you slowly suck in an anticipatory breath through your teeth that you do not release until his fingers swipe achingly light over your clit. You exhale raggedly as he finally takes pity on your weeping folds, and with a playful smirk you feel against your neck as he leans in to kiss there, he starts to circle your clit in a soft, expert tease.

You breathe his name, allowing him to fill your every thought, every fibre. Take over your body and direct it like a symphony, increasing the pressure of his touch and making you moan and bite down on your knuckles resting under your chin, pushing your pelvis into his hand.

“That is darling girl,” he encourages, his voice rich and resonant, seeming to vibrate through your very being.

“More,” you plead and grab the hand not between your legs, bringing it to your face and sliding your lips around two of his long, deft fingers, sucking them deep into your mouth, pulsing your tongue over the underside, tasting the massage oil and a flavour that is all him. It’s a catalyst that makes him groan and surge his naked body over you, all heated, toned flesh.

“Please,” your appeal garbled around his fingers that you suck as if it were his cock, deep pulls all the way down to his knuckles, and he growls and curls his fingers, hooking around the back of your lower teeth, his blunt nails digging into the sensitive flesh under your tongue. Something becomes more urgent between you as his rigid cock drags over your tailbone, his fingers curling around your clit more insistently as you instinctually spread your legs wider.

You whimper as he withdraws his fingers from between your legs and your mouth, and they crest your hip bones, painting your skin with your own arousal and saliva.

“Turn over, my girl,” he requests sotto voce, and you do so, rolling over so your oiled back is on the soft sheet he brought in. Your field of vision is filled with him—his face beaming down at you with a loving expression, his smooth chest and his skilled, soothing hands, which now move to cup your breasts as he settles between your legs, his cock brandishing your inner thigh. Greased fingers slide around your nipples, and you groan and push up, loving the slide and warmth.

“Kiss me,” he asks, his pupils blown and glittering, his lips an inviting sheen of pink.

Craning your head off the pillow to meet his lips, it's a tease for a few moments, and then you are hungrily devouring each other, tongues sweeping over one another, breathing shared air, swallowing the little noises you both make. As you kiss, your legs slip open wider until you feel him rocking the apex of your thighs, his public hair tickling your clit. The drawn-out tease makes your belly simmer with fire, ready to beg.

Then he is slipping down your body, his mouth hot and hungry on your nipples, making you pant and writhe as he uses an edge of teeth and then a swipe of tongue; a jolt right down to your clit. He moves lower; you know where he is headed, your clit pulsing and engorged as he heatedly glances up at you from your belly, a knowing crooked smile crowding over his handsome features.

When his nose trails into your thatch of hair and he inhales deeply, you can’t help clenching, your cunt so desperate for him, spellbound by his desire focussed so wholly on you. Almost aggressively, he manhandles your legs around his shoulders and, with no preamble, dives face-first into your folds, the noise and heat making you startle.

He has an almost vice-like grip on your thighs as his tongue parts your folds and unerringly finds your clit. He feasts on your body, even more than that night at Aubrey Hall when Anthony sat outside the room listening to you both. There was the frisson of being caught that gave that night an edge, but tonight feels different, more profound, and his efforts more meaningful but just as untamed. He gives long, languorous strokes with the flat of his tongue and sucks your labia into his mouth, tugging a fraction so you feel the pull in your throbbing clit. Then he spreads his mouth wide over that sensitive nub and sucks hard, a sudden stabbing sensation making your hands fly into his hair and push yourself into his face. 

He groans encouraging words, drinking from your body, swirling his tongue until he hits a spot that makes you squeak, your nails scraping hard on his scalp. His tongue rolls around in increasingly fervid motions, and you feel that hook deep inside, coiling for release, needing a little more to push you over. As if sensing it, he snarls and glances the edge of his teeth onto that most responsive pinpoint; you call out his name loudly, rapidly circling that pinnacle. 

“Please.” That one simple needy word from his lips has you undone.

A tide hitting you, that tension snapping inside. Strong waves emanate from your core, ecstasy racing through every inch of your body, your grip on his hair slackening as he drops gentle kisses onto your lower belly, making his way back up as your body shivers with aftershocks.

“Look into my eyes,” he implores quietly as he hovers over your face, your scent strong on his chin and lips.

You do, and while you are still fluttering from the orgasm, he slowly breaches your body, a solid mass stretching you open in that way that is so hypnotising. Your breath catches, and he growls as you pulsate around him. 

He utters a curse, dropping his head briefly. Then his head snaps back up, his gaze intense but full of something else, something fundamental, and you have to swallow the lump in your throat as he bottoms out inside you, letting out a shuddering breath before placing a doting kiss on the tip of your nose. 

“Tell me how you feel,” he hums over your cheekbone, his fingers trailing over your arms, shoulders, and neck, just holding still within you, letting you feel the way his cock holds you open, how you cling to him. 

“Wonderful,” you confess, your body thrumming and yet relaxed, all your muscles before so aching now revived and sated. 

With another kiss, he pulls back from within you and then pushes forward slowly, cupping your jaw, studying every inch of your face, watching your mouth form little noises as he takes you tenderly, slowly. He bends down and whispers inaudibly into your neck. It sounds like a foreign language, maybe French, but it’s so quiet under the crackle of the logs in the fire that you can’t decipher; you just let the sounds roll over you, into you, filling your heart. Distantly, you hear the patter of cleansing rain on the window behind the curtains, lending the room an even greater feeling of a haven, a cocoon from the outside world. 

Your body undulates under his as he takes more pronounced thrusts, building a slow but steady rhythm that feels carnal and ethereal, as if you are floating above yourself, being taken away on a wave of serenity. 

This isn't fucking; this is love-making. Something you have never really done before, something that feels too vulnerable and dangerous. But yet all you feel is safe and cared for, his eyes soft, his lips quirked in an affectionate smile. This is the succour your mind and body needed. To quell the turbulence and roiling guilt that has been clawing at your being. Torn between the man inside you now and his brother. So alike, so different, two sides of a coin you cannot choose heads or tails of. 

You push up into him, angling your pelvis so he hits a spot inside you that makes your eyes roll, and your mouth slacken, greedy for another high so soon. He kisses your lips, breathes your air, encourages you with mumbled words, moving to pepper little kisses over your cheeks, making your scalp tingle and ripples run down your limbs. Your hands run greedily over his flesh, mapping his back muscles, scraping your nails over the globe of his bottom, pressing your thumbs into his flesh, wordlessly asking for more. Always more.

He tilts and moves deep, a spear just the right side of painful, causing you to moan; there is a triumphant chuckle as he kisses your eyebrows. The easy intimacy of the moment is so enchanting and yet so visceral. Every sense heightened, every touch burning, as if he had taken ash from the fire and painted it over your skin. You plead with him, pulling your legs higher, wrapping around his hip bones, wanting him to be so deep inside you carry a physical reminder tomorrow. 

“My girl,” he whispers, the tone possessive and a hand slides between your head and the pillow, grasping and then twisting the hair at the nape of your neck between his strong fingers, a mild sting on your scalp as this take on a different more frenzied edge. You rasp his name, wanting nothing more right now than to be utterly owned by him under his thrall. 

“Bite me,” he begs, and you falter. “You heard me,” he gusts into your left ear, angling his neck by your mouth. “I marked you with my teeth, darling girl; it is only fair you do the same.”

Something about the nature of the offering, the way he sees you as an equal, makes you feral, and you pitch forward and sink your teeth into the sturdy column of his neck before you can even engage the higher logic part of your brain. He grunts and thrusts harder, hissing for you to take more, your teeth clamping down before backing off to lathe your tongue over the bite mark.

Pulling back and seeing the evidence of your mark on him makes you clench around his cock with such force he growls and begs you to do it again. You do, his cock feeling huge, steely, so invasive. He stills, buried to the root inside you, and shudders all over.

“I never want to be anywhere but right here,” he groans fervently, “inside you, please, god, please let me.” The tone tinged with desperation as he restarts, urgent, spiking, the hand in your hair tangled amongst the strands. And in this febrile moment, it’s what you want too—always to have him touching you somehow.

You cry out as his other hand slides heavily down your contours, and his fingers plough into your folds, finding your clit and spiralling you higher, his gaze burning you.

“Come apart for me again, please; I'm so close,” he confides, his hips slightly erratic.

It won't take much, your whole body in a tinder state, and he is quickly hurtling you towards a new peak, engulfing your senses, enclosing your body, feeling as if he is everywhere at once.

There are a few rapturous moments where your whole body tenses, circling that abyss, robbing your lungs of air, your eyes fluttering closed. Before one more nudge of his cock and fingers and you are tumbling, freefalling. Every synapse fires as your core clenches on him, squeezing so hard you distantly hear him making noises that are almost inhuman, and you cry out as he quickly withdraws from your body, still pulsing and wanting; he splashes his release over your thighs with a grunting shudder.

He collapses atop you, breathing heavily, and for a few moments, there is nothing but the sounds of your panting, the dying log on the fire and the steady drumbeat of rain outside. When he pulls up again, his mien is affectionate, untangling himself from you and arranging your bodies into a comfortable hold.

He grabs the corner of the sheet and dutifully cleanses your skin of his seed, kissing your temple, staring at you with a reverence that feels almost too claustrophobic now the maelstrom of desire has passed. You bite your lip, and in the rush of chemicals in your bloodstream, you are suddenly overwhelmed. By his devotion, by the magnitude of what you feel for him and for Anthony.

“This is impossible,” you lament, fiercely willing the tears welling in your eyes not to fall. He knows precisely what you are referring to without you having to say it. He twists you in his arms so you lay atop him.

“I never want you to be in turmoil because of me,” Benedict says, his eyes clouding with emotion. He grabs your hands and kisses the back of your knuckles with a hot press of his lips. “If it means you have peace, I will desist. Step away,” he offers chivalrously. “I will always, always hold what we have dear, but I cannot be a source of distress to you.”

Your stomach lurches at the thought of not being with him. 

“No, Benedict!” it’s a gut reaction from deep inside, a swoop in your stomach that feels like you are falling. “Please, do not. I….” words seem to fail on your tongue. “Just do not…,” you hiss. “You deserve me as much as your brother does. Fight for me,” you implore, knowing it is twisted to ask him to do this, to fight for you when you don't even know who to choose.

You swallow thickly as he looks at you through his lashes.

“I can picture it,” you say quietly, determined. “A life with you. Here, in this house. It’s wonderful, Benedict,” you answer honestly.

His eyes go soft and glassy, and you kiss his knuckles, echoing his gesture. And there is something bubbling up inside of you that feels decisive when….

There is a crash as the drawing-room door swings violently open.

And the bottom falls out of your world.

Anthony.

He stands in the doorway, his whole frame quaking, rain dripping from his jacket and the curls over his forehead.

Benedict startles and quickly grabs your chemise and his trousers, trying to conceal you both with the sheet the best he can. But it’s a pointless endeavour. It’s so very obvious what you have been doing, naked and entwined as you were on a pile of cushions in front of a fireplace with now glowing embers.

Anthony doesn’t say a word but strides into the room, breathing raggedly. As he draws closer, you see his face pinched, and his whole frame fizzles and crackles with energy. But it's not anger. It's something else, a nervousness that is verging on frantic.

“Don't,” his word is gruff and pained, screwing his eyes shut.

“Anthony,” you breathe.

“Please… don't… don't choose him,” he swallows and reopens his eyes. They are beseeching and desperate. “I’m not angry,” he adds, holding up a hand as if to explain, “I just… need you not to choose him.” You see the shake in his fingers as he lowers his hand. The hurt on his face makes your chest heave.

You hang your head as Benedict is silent next to you. Almost an equal in your shame. It was he who tempted you away from his brother in the first place; you can practically feel the guilt hanging heavily around his frame. In the silence, you quickly pull on your chemise and climb to your feet as Benedict pulls on his trousers and stays seated, curling in on himself, not looking up.

“This was tenderness, wasn’t it?” Anthony gestures to where you were lying, accurately surmising what happened from the surroundings and pacing slightly.

“Yes,” you whisper, almost ashamed, rooted to the spot.

“You… you never let me try that,” he utters; there is a world of hurt in that small voice, and he stops moving.

“I… I did not think you wanted to,” you decry, feeling a whiplash of confusion in your ribs. Anthony and lovemaking is not something you have ever considered; your dynamic always so much edgier, meeting your wilder needs.

“I believed I did not… until you,” those last two words whispered and lingering. “So much about you confounds me. Every time we are together, I’m left wanting more. Yearning for things I- I never thought I would. And now it feels like you are being stolen away…,” his Adam's Apple bobs hard. “I knew you would bond… with him. It’s why I begged you not to seek him out. I see your similarities… but… sometimes in life, we need someone different from ourselves. To be with someone who challenges us; that is a better balm for our souls. And so…”

The world seems to go into slow motion as Anthony drops to a knee before you.

“I want to humbly offer you me, my world,” you inhale a shocked gasp as he holds out a ring box. “Y/n, please be my wife?”

At your side, Benedict makes a forlorn noise, and he slides around in front of you on both of his knees.

“You asked me to fight for you, and by god, I will,” his pained appeal makes the ache in your chest spread wider, deeper. “I have no ring to offer you. I cannot offer you jewels and titles,” he winces slightly as he says it. “But I can offer you me and… and freedom. To pursue what you want in life, with me, as an equal, with no titles to burden you. All I can offer you is all we have experienced together. And my love. All my love. Always.” He holds up his hands almost in prayer and peers at you through heavy lashes, pleading his case.

“Titles are only a burden if you see them as such,” Anthony argues impassioned, his knuckles turning white as he grips the ring box. “As Viscountess, the world would be your oyster. And you deserve the world, y/n.”

“On that last point, I can agree; you do deserve the world” Benedict concedes.

Them steadfastly looking only at you but acknowledging each other’s points adds a weighted poignancy to the moment that almost hurts. Your head whips between the two. Both of these brothers, on their knees before you, their declarations sincere, their hearts on their sleeves. And yours beating wildly and torn in two different directions. An impossible conundrum. The very best and worse double bind.

You have no idea what on earth to do.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms

Anthony taglist who may be interested in the last few paragraphs lol: @queenofmean14 @elizah99 @debheart @amanda08319

[ptergwen]

sensation

w/c: 4.6k

warnings: some swearing, suggestive tings, and a pretty bad ending

summary: it’s the last night of your world tour, and tom has the perfect way to celebrate

a/n: i know y’all have been waiting for this one! everyone really loved when worlds collide but i ran out of ideas for it lol sorry... anyways my solution was to turn it into a oneshot :D based off the au!! i’m honestly nervous about posting this cuz a lot of you asked for it and i don’t wanna disappoint but i tried my absolute hardest to make it special <3 please enjoy

-

“thank you so much! we love you!” you shout to the audience, laughing breathlessly when they shout back. one of your dancers pulls you into a side hug, you throwing your arm around his neck. “we’re so fucking lucky you chose us, that you came all the way here. i’ve seen some of you back at night one. wow.” your voice gets wobbly, thinking about how loyal your fans are.

the tour started in new york, and they’ve followed you here to london.

tonight is an emotional night for everyone. you’re about to wrap your last show before you continue again in the summer. touring the u.k. has been a dream, and you’re just as thrilled to travel the rest of the world after your break. it’s bittersweet because you’re going to miss the hell out of your crew and the millions of lovely faces you’ve sang to each week. but, you do get to spend your time off with a special someone.

he’s watching you from the sound booth, sending fond smiles and loud cheers your way. thanks to you, tom has been at every show you’ve played in england. he brought harry along this time because he’s also a fan and wanted to see you. well, tom is more than a fan at this point. you’d say he’s more of a boyfriend. you haven’t discussed labels just yet.

your dates have mainly been over facetime, since you live on opposite sides of the world with insane schedules. a heartthrob actor and international popstar is quite the combination. you’ve only seen each other in person a couple of times, the first being pretty recently.

zendaya brought tom along to hang out with you in los angeles. he happened to be there recording some lines for a movie. she saw your concert earlier that night and invited him to crash the dinner plans you’d made, resulting in the best surprise and most fun you’ve ever had. the other time you enjoyed each other’s company was one weekend in paris. that was... something.

besides those two miracles, everything between you and tom happens through a screen. you’ll down bottles of champagne or keep warm under blankets while talking about your days. it’s nice, having someone on the other end who listens and actually hears you. tom gets it. you both do.

finishing your tour in london is convenient because not only will you have tom to comfort you, but you get to stick around for a while. he’s invited you to stay at his place. you can’t wait to meet the other holland’s, his friends, and obviously tessa.

“fuck, i’m gonna cry. i’m already crying,” you announce to the crowd, though they can tell from the tears streaming down your face. more dancers huddle around you and turn your single hug into a group one. you’re laughing and sobbing and holding on tight to everyone. fans bawl their own eyes out, the fact that this is it starting to settle in. the onstage crew even gets choked up, seeing you like this.

tom pouts from where he’s watching. he wishes he could run up there and squeeze you tight, but he’ll have to save that for when you’re done.

“i love you all so much, literally every single one of you in this room,” you tell everyone for the nth time tonight, swiping a perfectly manicured finger under your eyes. “my lighting crew, sound crew, my band, my fearless fucking dancers-“ a hiccup cuts you off. people burst into fits of giggles, which is a much needed tension breaker. you adjust your headset so the mic doesn’t pick up any other bodily noises.

grinning, you rest your arm on a shorter dancer’s shoulder, then go on. “sorry, sorry. i just wanna say, like, three more thank you’s before i get out of here.” there’s a chorus of no’s and encouraging whistles at the mention of you leaving. you blink back more tears to delay the breakdown you’re going to have. “thank you to my friends who always show up for me.”

with a knowing smile, you glance over at tom. “and, thank you to my more than a friend.” he smiles back, both hands held over his heart. harry elbows him in congratulations. more screaming erupts from the crowd as they realize where you’re looking and who you’re looking at. this will be sure to spark some headlines. whatever, you’re used to trending on every possible social media platform by now.

“this is the big one,” you preface, taking in a breath while everyone quiets down again. “thank you to you guys. for trusting me, for caring about what i have to say in any way. i feel your love. i really do, and i hope you feel mine.” your fans yell that they love you back, dancers gently swaying you side to side, emotions on high. there’s one last song, and it’s over.

“this has been the sensation tour, and i’ve been your host. was i good?” you try to lighten the mood, earning a bunch of what sound like positive shrieks. the earpiece you have in makes it hard to tell. “y’all were even better.” exchanging looks with your dancers, you pull out of the hug so you can get to your mark for the finale. they follow your lead. music comes through the speakers.

“i’ll see you again soon, okay? i promise. here’s sensation,” you introduce the song, immediately bursting into more tears. it’s torture to say goodbye. thankfully, you have the most incredible fans on earth, so they sing along with you at the top of their lungs. that includes tom and harry, your ultimate stans.

when the show is over, you run right off stage and over to tom. he’s waiting on the side with actual heart eyes for you. you practically leap into his arms, a hand cradling the back of his head, both his arms draped low and tight around your body.

“you were so amazing up there! absolutely smashed it, darling,” tom breathes out. his face is smushed between your neck and mostly bare chest. “thanks, tom. seriously, thanks for being here tonight and every other.” you smile a tired smile and wind your other arm around his neck. he presses some light you’re welcome kisses to your skin. “mm, thanks for having me. how’s it feel to be done?”

you sigh, fingers running through his curls. “like the biggest relief, and also really sad.” you’re such a mess that you could cry again on the spot. tom senses it and lifts his head up to see if you’re alright. “super depressing,” you surprisingly reiterate without the waterworks. “i know the feeling. you’ll be back soon, though. you said it,” he murmurs, a grin on his lips as they brush against the corner of yours.

you’re about to kiss him properly, then one of your dancers comes up to you. you’d forgotten that there are still stage managers and security everywhere, too. you get completely lost in tom whenever you’re together.

“you killed, babe,” coco greets you, linking your arm in hers. tom takes the hint and lets go of you. he watches on with a smirk. “nah, you murdered,” you send the compliment back and bite your lower lip. “i dunno, i feel like someone murdered me!” there’s coco with her dramatics. she’s genuinely hilarious, your shared sense of humor playing a huge part in your friendship.

she brings your free hand to her heart. you gasp at how fast it’s going. “that shit is really beating, coco. are you, like, okay?” “probably not. it was the freestyle that got me.” coco went a lot harder than usual tonight, since it was her last big dance break for a while. she puffs air from her cheeks and nods to tom. “this your man?”

“yeah, you could say that. i’m tom,” he answers, holding out a hand for her. “coco.” she pulls it like you would in a handshake. you beam at them, one of your best friends and unofficial boyfriend finally meeting. “sounds promising. i approve,” coco mutters to you. bumping your hip into hers playfully, you take one of tom’s hands in both of yours.

“aw, we have your blessing or something? your permission?” you coo and get a push at your shoulder from coco in return. tom chuckles, his thumb running over the back of your hand. “no! i was gonna say you should bring him out back,” coco clarifies, like it was obvious. you’re not sure what she’s on about. “uh, what’s out back?” you question. “an axe?” tom teases.

coco gestures to the nearest exit. “we’re having a little goodbye party in the parking lot. fire pit, snacks. remember?” nope, you’d completely forgotten. the idea first sounded like the perfect way to end your night, so you agreed to go. that was before you were dripping sweat and mentally exhausted. now, all you want to do is unwind with tom and tom only.

the superstar life is one you’re happy to lead, just not at this exact moment.

“i do now.” you muster up your most apologetic smile for coco, tugging on tom’s hand. “i’m sorry, co. i think we’re gonna pass.” her jaw drops. you’re never one to skip these things. “aw, for real? it’s our last night!” tom threads his fingers through yours while you talk. “bro, we’ve been together for almost a whole year,” you laugh out, nuzzling your cheek into tom’s chest. “get sick of me.”

“never,” coco deadpans. she catches you gazing up at tom, relaxing as his arms hug your middle. she’s known you long enough to tell what’s a fling and what’s real love for you. this is something special, and she can’t get in the way of it. she’ll let you navigate this yourself. “ok, just for tonight. you’ll text me?” coco gives you a real smile, raising an eyebrow at tom. he gathers that’s a good thing. he’s in.

“mhm. maybe we can hang out tomorrow,” you agree and let your eyes flutter shut. all that’s keeping you up are tom’s strong arms. “tell everyone i love them.” “i think they know.” coco shakes her head lightheartedly. tom laughs at her. “be good,” she tells him and means it, rubbing your back on her way to the lot. that leaves you and tom alone at last.

custodians are cleaning up the arena, fans are piling out, and you’re clinging to tom while his steady heartbeat grounds you. this is the only after party you need.

“harry’s got the car when you’re ready,” tom mumbles, tucking a piece of damp hair behind your ear. you loop your arms around his torso with a hum. “i was kinda wondering where he went.” “yeah?” he gives you a small smile. “gotta ask what he thought... of the show.” yawns are creeping past your lips, tonight’s events catching up to you.

“i like feedback from the fans, or stans,” you elaborate in your sleepy state. tom uses his fingertips to tap your temple. “what about me? i’m your biggest.” “i’ll, um, follow up with you later.” your words are slurring. “right now, home.” warmth spreads throughout tom’s entire body, his house becoming yours for a bit. “your chariot awaits,” he affirms before helping you to your dressing room.

after collecting your things, you follow tom out to the car. harry is in the driver’s seat, and you two slip into the back. he exchanges a look with his brother through the mirror while you settle on his shoulder. you’re hugging his bicep, his lips pressing to the side of your head.

“thank you for driving,” you speak softly to harry. he starts to pull out of the spot with a nod. “no problem. get to say i was y/n y/l/n’s chauffeur.” tom clicks his tongue even though harry is joking. you snicker at his remark, joking back. “you want the job? better be a five star ride, then.” your banter brings yet another smile to tom’s face. his family is everything to him, so seeing you get along so well means the most.

“right, right. did you have a good time?” harry wonders, twisting to see behind him while he turns around. he also peeks at you snuggled up to tom before facing forward. “great, actually. did you?” you check, the grin clear in your voice. harry goes into full stan mode. “no shit! you were brilliant, y/n. god, every note was just like how you did it the studio.” he’s raving, which is much appreciated by you.

“good answer.” tom shoots his brother a wink. “‘s that what you wanted to hear?” he asks in reference to your conversation earlier. your response is a kiss to his shoulder. “yay. i’m happy you liked it, harry.” he buzzes with excitement, having his favorite artist care what he thinks.

not much is said for the rest of the drive. tom and harry make some hushed conversation about golfing this weekend while you struggle to stay awake. they’re obsessed with that damn sport. it’s honestly nice to see, that tom has something he likes to do when he isn’t shooting hollywood’s biggest movies. your free time will finally give you the chance to discover other hobbies.

you stumble out of the car upon arriving to the boys’ place, a backpack on your shoulders and tom’s hand held tight in yours. you’ve got only a few essentials with you for tonight. the rest is on the tour bus, so you’ll gather it after your hangout with coco. besides, everything you need at the moment is right here.

“home sweet home,” tom announces as harry unlocks the front door. his words bring a tired smile to your face. “finally,” you exhale, keeping your fingers laced with tom’s and following the two of them inside. “i could show you around a bit, give you the grand tour. or-“ tom stops talking, feeling your weight on him. harry huffs at how oblivious his brother is.

“mate, she’s falling over. save it,” he suggests and kicks the door shut lazily. you’re done in. you’ve been having to lean on tom since the show ended. “another time, then,” tom mumbles, securing his arm around your waist. “there is one thing i wanna see.” your voice is low, body curled into tom’s side. he raises an eyebrow. “and that is?” “your room.”

tom takes that in a suggestive way, like he does most things. “we’re getting right to it, are we?” he questions, harry gagging and you nudging his arm with your head. “not like that, dummy. ‘cuz i’m sleepy.” there’s a beat of silence. “ask me again in-“ “wow, look at the time!” harry interrupts so he doesn’t have to hear the details. he’s sure he’ll witness enough after it happens. “off to bed i go! goodnight.”

he rushes to get to his room, yelling out, “great show, y/n!” on the way. “thank you! night!” you call back, tom letting out a sigh. “div of the century,” he says under his breath. “must run in the family,” you playfully retort. that gets you a firm poke at your side. “where’s everyone else?” you glance up at him. there should be two other idiots and a lovely, furry lady running around.

“tuwaine’s gone to the pub, harrison’s filming late, and tess is at mum and dad’s,” tom fills you in, grabbing your arm and draping it around his middle. doing him one better, you hug him with both. you squint in confusion about the last part. “they watch her when i’m out,” tom answers your unspoken question. “ah,” you nod, then deflate ever so slightly. “i wanted to meet her, though. the other boys, too.”

tom smooths the pad of his thumb over your cheek. “you will, darling. it’s only for tonight.” he kisses the same spot reassuringly. “we’ve got loads of time.” “yeah, we do,” you agree, instantly cheering up and letting your head fall onto his chest. “now, where’s your room?” “just upstairs. you need some help getting in?” he’s only playing around, but you accept, tightening your arms around his neck.

“show me the way,” you beam at him. “happy to.” tom wiggles his eyebrows, you jumping up. your legs wrap around his waist, his arms holding you against him. with a satisfied hum, you squish your face into his insanely soft shirt. “what a diva,” tom sarcastically complains while taking you to the staircase. “doesn’t even say please. no manners from this one.”

“you try dancing in six inch heels for two hours,” you shoot back, patting the side of his neck. he moves one hand down to your thigh for a better grip. you’re nearing the top of the stairs. “think i’ll leave that to you,” he decides and squeezes your thigh. “look at me, carrying the whole music industry.” your face easily gets hot and your words turn to murmurs. “shut up. you should listen to other songs.”

you’re on the second floor now, tom going for the first door. he frowns at his rejected compliment. “no, i like yours. they’re my favorite.” “really?” your muffled laugh sounds from his chest. “what was the first thing i ever said to you?” he asks, a toothy grin on him even though you can’t see it. you recall the faithful night he slid into your dms while he carries you into his room.

he’d tripped over his words somehow, the fangirling fool. before that, he tweeted to the whole world that he wanted to see you in concert. it was a huge thing, and people were freaking out about it, even more so when your online interactions became routine. that’s nothing compared to where you are now.

you’re currently living with him and basically dating. possibly, in love. the base of it all really is your music.

“that you love me.” you pause for the ellipses. the corners of your lips turn up. “but, you really meant to say my work.” “both apply.” tom passes that off like it’s a side comment, carefully laying you down on his bed. you look up at him with a curious glint in your eyes. “what does that mean?” his cheeks flush, and he bites back the smile that’s growing. this was supposed to go... differently.

you sit up, breathing out a laugh at tom’s boyish behavior. he’s precious, truly. “you do love me?” those three words will change everything if he says yes. he takes both your hands in his and holds them between you two. you meet his doe eyes. “yeah, y/n/n. i do.” so, you were right. “i love you... and, that wasn’t how i planned on saying it.” signaling for him to elaborate, you tilt your head to the side.

tom sits down next to and faces you before continuing. “it was supposed to be romantic, right?” he rolls his eyes up to the ceiling, annoyed he ruined this. “candlelit dinner, flowers, that sort of thing. seems more fitting for the occasion.” you shift closer to him until your knees are touching. your face is lit up, voice dropped to almost a whisper.

“since when do we do things the way we’re supposed to?” you point out and set your hands on his shoulders. “we’ve gone straight from online dating to me moving in. that’s usually not how it works.” tom chuckles lowly. his own hands find their place on your hips. you’re so good with words. then again, you are a singer. “guess you could say we’re, um, spontaneous,” he agrees, fingers drawing circles on you.

you and tom have explored some of each other’s most intimate places, yet you’ve never shared a moment quite like this. it’s like meeting him for the first time again. he’s too tongue tied to spit out what he wants. you somehow know, anyway. what you cherish most about your relationship is that you two completely and totally understand one another, on every level.

“tom?” you speak quietly, butterflies filling up your body. “hm?” he hums back. this is one of those moments where it all just clicks. “i love you. i really, really love you.” you giggle out of the pure happiness that consumes you, tom joining in your laughter. “i love you, too.” he sounds like he’s said it a million times and he’ll say it a million more. he leans over so his forehead rests on yours. “really, really love you.”

your warm breath hits his face, eyes darting from his own to his lips. “i want you to be more than...” you trail off, unsure of how to phrase it. “more than... more than a friend?” tom pokes fun at what you said during the show. there’s less and less space between you with every second. “you mean, like, a boyfriend?”

“exactly. be my boyfriend,” you all but demand. you’re half asleep and desperate to be able to call him yours already. “bossy, bossy, bossy,” tom chastises, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip. how he goes from being shy and giddy to the cockiest person alive in minutes, you’ll never know. “please?” you throw in to sway him. your hand locks with his, slowly moving it off your face.

you run your tongue over your teeth. “at least kiss me.” “you don’t have to ask,” tom breathes, lips now ghosting over yours. “i was going to.” true to his words, he closes the microscopic gap between you, you pushing forward against him as you kiss back. your first kiss in love. his lips taste like the chapstick he always uses, and he moves them softly.

he places a hand on your knee, you opening your mouth so he can have access to it. instead, a yawn exits. tom pulls back with a breathy laugh. “you must be exhausted, yeah? let’s get you to bed.” he pecks your lips once more. “my girl needs her beauty rest.” that confirms your relationship. you scrunch your nose and grin wide. “and, she’s gonna get some with her boy.”

you’re reminded of how sweaty you are when you catch a whiff. “oof, wait. do you think i can take a shower first?” you grimace, fanning at the air for emphasis. tom uses the tip of his nose to nudge yours. “absolutely. need help in there, too?” he’s not asking in that way, only so nothing happens. the hospital wouldn’t be the most pleasant place to spend your break. plus, he doesn’t want to be without you too long.

“you know what? yeah.”

that’s how you end up intertwined under the hot water, letting it cascade down your back as tom hugs you close to him. you sigh in content and tangle your fingers in his fluffed over curls. you’ve learned that he’s super into having his hair played with. it’s endearing, how he instinctively leans into your touch, eyes closing as you tug on the roots.

he drops his head down to kiss your shoulder, dragging his lips to your collarbone in a way that tickles. they land on one of your breasts next. there isn’t anything sexual about it, only loving. just in case he gets too excited because it’s not uncommon he does, you gently put a finger to his lips. tom takes the hint and lets up. you continue combing through his wet hair while you step out of the water.

“do you ever sing in the shower?” he questions, drawing your naked body in closer to his. “sometimes, yeah. i honestly feel like i sound better there,” you admit and slide your hand down to the nape of his neck. tom’s tongue darts out to lick his lips. “not true. you sound beautiful everywhere, and don’t fight me on this one.” he smirks in satisfaction, you groaning at your loss.

“i really enjoy hearing your voice when it blares through an arena, though,” tom keeps buttering you up. you shake your head and settle both arms around his neck. “man, i just love you so much.” “i love you, sweetheart,” he murmurs back, you switching places so he can give his hair a final rinse. you watch him and his glowing body, admiring the sight.

“what a sensation you are,” you say mostly to yourself, which doesn’t stop him from hearing. “i see what you did there.” he eyes you while you do the same to him. your arms still around his neck pull him back to you. “tommy? do you sing in the shower?” you meant to ask him before, then he started throwing all those compliments at you.

tom scoffs, walking you back so you’re against the wall. “i don’t sing anywhere.” “what?” you gasp and put a hand on his chest. “you’re lying, you have to be. wasn’t billy elliot a musical?” he narrows his eyes at you as he tries to gage where you’re going with this. “that i did a decade ago, and way before puberty. couldn’t sing a word without cracking after that.”

your mouth is left hanging open in shock and disappointment. you bet he has a nice voice, and he’s downplaying it. “y/n,” tom begins, cupping your jaw with his palm. “since we’re living together now, there’s a lot you’re going the learn about me. good things, weird things.” he shrugs casually. “this is one of the weird things.”

“only because you make it weird! come on, let me hear you,” you request and wrap a leg around his waist. you’re giving him a hopeful smile. “god, no. you’ll hate it,” he almost laughs, a hand on your thigh. “i’m literally a singer. how could i hate something i love?” you refute, batting your lashes at him. “especially when someone i love is doing it.” “i love you, too. but, i’m not.” he’s quick to shut you down.

“drop a bar!” you try to coax him, which he already has a comeback for. “you first.” “i can’t. my throat is all scratchy from earlier,” you lie. tom presses his lips into a line, feigning pity. “aw, you know what’ll make you feel better? tea. i’ll go get you some.” he turns to shut the water off, so you grab his shoulders. “no, the steam is working. you can stay.”

“love,” tom addresses you in a warning tone that you can’t take seriously. he can’t either, a giggle escaping him. “my voice is shit. ask anyone, and they’ll tell you.” “i won’t believe them,” you hum, pushing back curls sticking to his forehead. “sounds like you just have stage fright. we can work on that, though.” “how?” he tightens his arm around your middle.

“i’ll bring you on for my next show. we’ll do a little duet.” you’re joking, though that would definitely be interesting to see unfold. “uh, never. what happened to you being tired?” tom cleverly deflects and digs his fingers into your side. you look down in defeat. “i forgot about that.” “yeah, yeah. no, seriously. we should really get to sleep, y/n/n.” he’s back to his sweet, attentive self. “‘s been a long night.”

giving in with a nod, you capture his lips in yet another kiss. tom never gets tired of them, and neither do you. you break it after a few seconds, lips lingering on his as they detach. “carry me?” you ask again, not caring how whiny you sound. tom presses a quick kiss to your forehead. “oh, you’re adorable. of course.”

well, you’ve found something to keep you occupied until the next leg of tour. you’re going to discover the many layers your intriguingly unusual boyfriend has.

[enderwoah]

Cleo stares at the two of them with so much force it almost looks painful. It's clear that she's picking the two of them apart, practically gazing into their gems, before she leans back on her hands and seriously asks, "Have you two ever fused before?" El's jaw drops. "What." "Or, I guess, have either of you ever fused before," she amends, looking off into the distance. "Not necessarily you two with each other." El is already spluttering over Cleo's words. "Wh—why would I ever—what reason could I possibly ever have to ever—?" Beks shrugs. "Yeah. Once."

(ao3 link)

(5,477 words)

Time seems to pass very slowly on planet Earth.

It's something El noticed about five cycles into her stay here, long past the point where she would usually dissociate from her surroundings and mindlessly fly through her entire mission. Beks is usually there to make the time pass quicker, but she reformed mere hours after Cleo let her be in that cell and so far she's done nothing to offset the innate slowness of this planet.

It's not like she's complaining. There's something...oddly lovely about not having to miserably drag herself through the days, about not having any work to do and just being able to...be. The lapis still hasn't reformed to El's knowledge, despite a week and a half having passed, so the interrogation is still on hold. Padparadscha is missing in action for most of the day, aside from when El sees him passing like a ghost through the Crastle to steal "books" without anyone noticing. The fact that he is avoiding Scott is painfully obvious and it has been a big point of discussion between herself and Beks, mostly theorising on what crazy past they may have had together without actually going to just ask the guy. It's more fun to speculate, anyway, and she doesn't really want to see what Padparadscha is like when he's actually annoyed.

Because of these things, combined with the fact that she can't seem to find their ship no matter how hard she and Beks look (no doubt due in part to Padparadscha's interference), El hasn't really had anything to...do. She's talked a lot, both with Beks (who almost speared through Bdubs, the nephrite, because he was the first rebel she saw after reforming—she has been absolutely living it up with nothing to do) and with the rebels, who have proven themselves to be quite...quirky.

They talk a lot about nothing: their days, little tidbits of useless information they found while exploring or resource gathering, jokes and recipes and made-up stories and a lot of nonsense about food, which Beks positively adores and El is revolted by at best. She does quite like 'drinking,' which led to her spending about an hour with Impulse, the bismuth, in order to craft her very own cup. It is safely stored in her gem until she needs it for 'drinking.'

There are so many things she could say about the Earth—the fact that the rebels renamed it 'Life' is so fitting to her. She has never seen a planet utterly overflowing with the stuff. Homeworld is manufactured and artificial, all angles and sharp edges and sharp words and orders and order, but Life is...well, alive. It is unruly and dangerous and she couldn't be more surprised at how much she adores it. Maybe she should have seen it coming when she conveniently "forgot" to mend her torn and shredded dress on day one because it was nice to finally have her legs be free to move however, but she nevertheless finds herself shocked at how utterly light she feels when she's scrounging through the trees with Beks, partially in search for their ship and partially to just...be. Together.

It is about three hours past the middle of the day, and El finds herself outside, next to Beks, like she usually is. Rounding out the trio is Cleo, who simply requested to tag alongside them while they went 'searching for their ship.' They're in some sort of clearing, a wide, circular patch of grass and flowers surrounded on all sides by thick spruce trees (or maybe it's dark oak? Bdubs tried to explain to her, but she couldn't tell the difference to save her life) that tower up into the sky and cause the most delightful rustling noise in the breeze. Cleo is holding a book, but she isn't reading it. Beks has stuck her head inside of the log El is perched upon, and comes out with a huge creature perched on her face.

"El," she says, going cross-eyed to try and look at it. The thing is long and orange and rough-skinned, licking two eyes in either side of it's head with its tongue as it seems to reevaluate its surroundings from Bek's head. "El, I think he likes me."

"How do you know its a he?" El asks lightly, swinging her legs and brushing her feet against the blades of grass.

"Just feels like a he, doesn't it?" Beks replies with a grin, trying to meet the creature's eyes from her unfortunate position underneath it. "I'm gonna find a cool name for you. Cleo, what is this thing?"

Cleo looks down at Beks (as they had been looking into the sky before) with their trademark deadpan expression. "That's a lizard."

"A lizard," Beks repeats, starry-eyed. El laughs at her delighted expression as she gently pries the lizard from her face (he accidentally takes her vision enhancers along with him, but Beks priest those away, too) and sets him on her shoulder. Surprisingly, the thing doesn't move. "I gonna name him like my Earth name. We've gotta match!"

She pauses, then frowns. "What was my Earth name again...?"

"Becky," El sighs, an exasperated fondness curling the edges of her voice. "How is it so hard for you to remember? It's literally just your normal name but longer."

"Yeah, and it's not my normal name!" Beks replies, sticking her tongue out. "I just wanted one because everyone else had one."

"I don't have one."

"Yeah, 'cause you're a wet slock," Beks says with unwavering confidence.

"Sock," Cleo murmurs.

"Sock," Beks corrects.

El splutters, understanding an insult when she hears one. "What does that even mean, Beks?"

"It means you hate fun, El," Beks says, putting her hands on her hips and leaning forward as if it's a challenge.

El laughs—a very sharp, mildly condescending "ha!"—and drops from the log and onto the grass. She sees Cleo lower her head and actually begin to pay attention as El spins around in a circle, tattered dress arcing around her. "I don't hate fun, I love fun. What's more fun than running around with a shredded dress, huh? I can actually move my legs, it's incredible!"

She does a few kicks to demonstrate as Beks laughs and even Cleo cracks a smile. "I'm the fun master. The fun admiral. The fadmiral, if you will."

"The fadmiral," Beks repeats with a teasing smile. El crosses her arms and nods very seriously, and Beks immediately gets the memo and straightens up into a salute.

"My fadmiral," she says, holding back a snort. "What are your orders for me?"

El grins, then fixes her expression back into one of utter seriousness. She picks up one side of her drooping dress with one hand and pulls out her fan, beginning to fan herself as she imitates this one diamond-forsaken emerald she had to work for a few dozen years ago. "You're utterly unkempt, Quartz. I haven't seen you do a single fun thing today, let alone one to my satisfaction." She poofs her fan away with a flourish, closes her eyes, sticks her nose into the air, and claps twice. "Entertain me."

It only takes about a second for El to feel herself being grabbed and lifted up, resulting in her shrieking as Beks hoists her into the air and holds her above her head, giggling like a maniac and running around the clearing like animals.

"My fadmiral, pretend as if you're a bird," Beks says between heavy footsteps, tilting El from side to side as if she's steering the quartz she's perched upon. "I've heard that Earth children used to pretend to be animals for fun!"

"Beks—Beks, put me down!" El squeals, her cries going unheeded by Beks. "You're going to drop me—!"

"Oh, come on, now," Beks says, flippantly tossing El into the air (she unabashedly screams, though it is one of utter joy and delight and Beks and Cleo can tell) and catching her under the arms when she comes back down. "I'm too cool to drop you. You know that."

They stare into each other's eyes for a few moments before they both snort at almost exactly the same time and start giggling to themselves, pressing their foreheads together as they laugh. She feels warmth coming from every point of contact—real warmth, real love that seems to bounce alongside the fragile light that makes up her form.

This is it, she thinks very suddenly. This is how I want to be forever.

El shakes herself back into focus, but before she can reply to Beks with anything smart or quippy, the two of them hear Cleo speak up and say, "Hey. I've got a question for you two."

Beks lowers El slightly (but still doesn't put her on the ground, much to El's chagrin) and replies, "Yeah? What is it?"

Cleo stares at the two of them with so much force it almost looks painful. It's clear that she's picking the two of them apart, practically gazing into their gems, before she leans back on her hands and seriously asks, "Have you two ever fused before?"

El's jaw drops. "What."

"Or, I guess, have either of you ever fused before," she amends, looking off into the distance. "Not necessarily you two with each other."

El is already spluttering over Cleo's words. "Wh—why would I ever—what reason could I possibly ever have to ever—?"

Beks shrugs. "Yeah. Once."

El snaps her head forward to stare at Beks so quickly she almost gives herself whiplash. "I'm sorry, you what?"

Beks sheepishly smiles and lowers El into the grass, who stares up at her with her hands on her hips. Beks scratches the back of her neck and asks, "We're past the point where you report me to my agate for rejuvenating, right?"

"Of course we are," El says impatiently, because as shocked as she is, she isn't about to make a joke about that. "When in the world did you fuse with someone? Why would you ever need to do that, you're a quartz!"

"It's bold of you to assume that we don't get bored and curious between missions, El," Beks says, nudging her shoulder.

"Was it with another dumortierite?" El asks, leaning up to get as close to face-to-face with Beks as possible. "Were you—what was it like? Was it as scary as it sounds?"

"Scary?" Beks exclaims, almost looking surprised. "Right, I forgot everyone thinks—no, El, it wasn't scary. It was...weird."

El has practically forgotten that Cleo is sitting just a couple of metres away, watching them closely. "Weird how?"

"Weird like..."

She trails off, scrunching up her face as she stares into the distance as if trying to remember. "It was like I was a completely different person, I guess. Like—we were still pretty separate, and she definitely had her own feelings on the situation that I didn't necessarily share, but for the most part, I just felt...like a stronger gem."

El tries to pretend like she hasn't got stars in her eyes. She knows how taboo fusion outside of the same gem type is, but she's never actually seen it happen before. She knows that gems that do it are usually poofed and rejuvenated very quickly upon being discovered, probably because it would cause some sort of insurrection if it was left unchecked. Homeworld seemed to be scared of a lot of things that might lead to insurrection, if El is being honest.

"Well..." El starts, furrowing her brows. "How do you even do it? I've seen rubies fuse, they just sort of...make funny structures. Or just throw themselves at each other. Does it work the same for gems of different types?"

Beks shrugs as if to ask, 'how am I supposed to know?' "I mean, I fused with a quartz, just a different kind. We tried to make the funny structures and then fell on top of one another a bunch until we finally managed and...yeah."

El hums, thinking very hard until she finally notices Cleo moving from the corner of her eye, turning to fully see her stand up from the log they were on and stretch.

They notice El looking at them quizzically and supplies, "Bdubs needs me back at the base."

El scans her form for any sort of communication device and raises an eyebrow. "How do you know?"

"Telepathic bond," Cleo says, completely deadpan. Using her common sense, El knows that it isn't true, but everything Cleo says somehow never seems like she's lying. "Also, try dancing."

El and Beks blink several times, glance at each other, then look back at Cleo. "What?"

"Dancing," they repeat. They nod at El, "I'm sure you know how."

"Well—I'm a jade, of course I know how to dance, but why...?"

Cleo shrugs and starts to walk away. "Bdubs needs me for something very pressing, sorry."

"You are just lying."

"I'll see you two later!" they call, flashing them a thumbs up without looking back before they disappear into the trees.

El and Beks look at each other and almost immediately break out into childish giggles, making stupid faces at the trees that Cleo vanished into. They are very serious and important gems, these two.

"What does 'try dancing' even mean, anyways?" El exclaims, flinging out her arms towards Cleo's exit. "Of course I've tried dancing! I'm a jade, half of Homeworld doesn't know we do anything but dance!"

Beks lets her the lizard crawl from her shoulder onto her hand, lifting the small thing up and setting it on her gem and pretending as if she's listening to it speak.

El stares at her. "What are you doing."

"I think Mister B thinks she was talking about fusion."

"Mister B?"

"It's a placeholder name!" Beks says defensively, holding him close to her chest. "I want it to match my 'buh' sound, but I'll need to find a cool Earth name for him, first."

El shakes her head and tries not to show how endearing that is to her. She does a pretty terrible job, but the attempt is there. "Sure, Beks. Hello there, Mister B."

The lizard licks it's eyeball and El gags. Beks giggles. "Anyways, I really do think she meant fusion. Like...maybe gems of different types need to dance together to fuse?"

"But I dance with other gems all the time," El points out, momentarily poofing her dress out into the ballgown she has grown to hate, what with its indents that create dizzying, clockwork patterns across the ground whenever she's dancing at a party. She quickly returns it to its flatter, shorter state. "I've never fused with anyone."

"Maybe it's because you only dance with jades?" Beks speculates, putting a hand on her chin. She then proceeds to hold both of her hands straight out towards El, who stares at them, then at Beks' gem, then at Beks' face. "Here, dance with me."

El looks utterly scandalised. "Wh—but—" Her voice drops to a whisper. "What if we accidentally fuse?!"

"Then no-one will ever know," Beks hiss-whispers back, making El suddenly snap up and look around them. She's right, thinking about it—now that Cleo is gone, the clearing is completely empty, save for the insects and creatures that might be roaming the area. They have complete privacy to experiment, and as much as she's sure these thoughts would get her shattered on the spot, she is almost startlingly excited at the prospect of...not even fusing with Beks (though she is excited for that). Just being unsupervised in general.

"Okay," El says quietly, taking Bek's hand. Beks' face breaks out into a wide grin, and El immediately follows suit, grabbing the quartz's other hand and giddily bouncing in place. "Okay! Okay, so, first off, you are standing all wrong—"

It doesn't take entirely too long for Beks to get a hold of the movements El demonstrates to her—being a quartz, she's practically been formed to absorb new information and strategy, so she falls in time with El despite the lack of music or atmosphere very, very quickly.

El is having the time of her life, really—both in being able to teach Beks something and being able to dance with her. She honestly can't believe she never thought to do this before. She holds her hand flat against Beks', arm bent at a ninety degree angle while the other is held behind her back, Beks mirroring the stance as they slowly step in a circle, El counting the steps under her breath.

Beks furrows her brows and looks at El with mild confusion. "El."

"Hm?" El says, still counting the steps as they shift their hands to actually grasp each other's.

"I've got a question for you."

El stops counting and meets Beks' eyes. "Yeah?"

"How are we supposed to��fuse when there's about a star system's worth of distance between me and you?"

El scoffs, then laughs, then scoffs again. "Our hands are holding each other right now."

Beks rolls her eyes and gestures at the gap between their torsos. El slides her hand out of Beks' hold and crosses her arms. She would hate to admit that Beks is right, because she is right, but she has absolutely no clue how else they would do this. She really only has experience dancing with those stupid, stupid dresses, so it makes sense that there's a bit of unnecessary space when they're...not wearing them. "Fine, then. Do you have any ideas?"

Beks puts a hand on her hip and looks up to the sky. "Well...I don't know how to dance. And I don't know how this whole fusion nonsense works. But I think...maybe we do what you do...but just. Better?"

"Better," El scoffs, rolling her eyes. "What in the world do you mean by better—?!"

El is swiftly cut off by Beks yanking her very, very close, which ends up with a slightly awkward situation where El has to look close to straight up at her and Beks has to look straight down. They hold each other's gaze before breaking out into giggles, El spinning herself out of close proximity to Beks and starting to...

She doesn't know if she's allowed to call this dancing. It's some awful, messy butchering of what she knows to be dancing, but then Beks effortlessly picks her up by the waist and spins them around, foreheads touching, and all she can think is that she hopes this can still be called dancing. There's something exhilarating about it, the way the movements follow the vague structure of what she taught Beks just a few minutes ago but with an added flair that she would never see at a Homeworld ball. Their movements are dizzying, perfectly imperfect, out of time with whatever waltz El has been trained to count to in her head but following a different, faster, bouncier time signature that she can just barely pick up on. It's madness, but there's a noticeable rhythm to it that makes it just shy of flinging each other around the clearing aimlessly.

El finds herself laughing, giggling where there's no joke, grabbing the sides of her dress and swinging them around as she spins and dances in her spot, Beks clapping around her in a counterclockwise circle to no music. They must look like absolute maniacs, but there's no one around to watch them or tell them to quiet down or for El to fix her damn dress, so they dance and dance and dance and El feels alive.

They keep tripping over each other because their feet are moving so fast, their arms are getting tangled up in the other's as they fold and unfold and criss-cross, and she is bloody exhausted but she knows they can do just one more trick—Beks and her kick in time with each other, stepping ever-closer until they're pressed up against one another and El is unravelled out of Beks' arms and snapped out to the side, ending with her free arm outstretched as she beams out to an audience that, for once, isn't there, and everything just feels so warm until the hand holding Beks' suddenly feels cold and—

And then she's...not.

She is. They are? She's...dizzy. That's the first thing she (they??) notice(s).

She looks down at the grass and notices that its much further away than it's supposed to be, for either of them. For her. She promptly loses her balance and falls over, hitting the ground with a thud and a bit of a startle back(?) into her senses—she can clearly see her legs and feet, which are mint green, which is utterly shocking and only mildly surprising at the same time. She looks at her hands—same situation, except there's a green gem on her right hand (on her hand?) with brown (brown?) crystals on the inside.

She stares at the gem like she always(?) seems to do when she sees it, and then it hits her like a rock to the head.

"Oh stars," she whispers, holding a hand up to her mouth. She cannot force the smile off of her face or the sparkle out of her eyes...of which she seems to have four? She can see so much more than usual! "We did it. I did it? Oh my stars, who am I?"

There's no response. She squints down at the gem again, noting the scratches that she's so proud of, and tilts her head to the side.

"A dumortierite quartz," she mutters aloud, reaching to touch the gem on her chest. "And a lemon jade. Huh. And it makes a minty gem..." She squints further at the one on her hand before breaking out into giggles.

Completely on a whim, she sprints into the trees and finds herself kicking off from the ground to land on a branch, finding the movement to be natural and almost frighteningly easy. She does not know how she's maintaining her balance this well, but she whoops and cheers and bounces from branch to branch like one of those small creatures Bdubs told Beks the name of after she said he reminded her of one—a quirell? Skworl? A squirrel, yes, she knew that.

She doesn't even bother with landing on the trees at a point—she misses her landing and simply grabs onto the branch, swinging around it and launching herself straight into the leaves above her, which makes her splutter and cackle and promptly fall to the ground.

She doesn't even feel tired, is the thing. She doesn't know where she is, exactly, but she generally knows that the base is somewhere to the west and it's not like they have a time limit or anything. She can be for as long as she wants, and that, in her oh-so-humble opinion, is utterly brilliant.

She ends up stumbling across a pond and almost trips over her own feet in an effort to see exactly what she looks like, because she can feel all the parts of herself but she can't really tell what the colours are and that's probably the most important part in figuring out who she is, right? She looks over the edge and is met with four eyes staring back, which immediately makes her snicker (she finds that she can't stop laughing at just about everything, whether it's funny or not, and she absolutely loves it) as she starts to move them all in random directions, giving herself a slight headache that she shakes off. Her hair falls in front of her face in a middle part, which makes sense since El and Beks both have that aspect to their hair, but it's the same brown as the shards inside of the gem on her hand while the rest of her hair is a darker green.

She holds our her arm in front of the water and notices darker scars littered across them, in the exact same places that Beks had her scars. She supposes that this makes sense—the scratches are still on Beks' gem, why wouldn't the scars from them be there, too? And besides, they match the aesthetic for the most part.

She's already noticed the translucent half-skirt that crosses over her waist, growing from very short on one side to normal length on the other, and fluff...decoration...on her wrists that's made of the same stuff. She's pretty fancy, she thinks! Sort of reminds her of a pearl, but she's pretty sure she's not quite weak enough to be a pearl. Not as tough as a jade—no, not physically, tough as in 'easy-to-shatter,' thank you; yes, she is aware that a quartz could take a jade in a fight any day—and about as hard as a quartz...chalcedony? Maybe not exactly that, some type of chalcedony?

She lets herself tip forward into the water as she thinks, gracefully floating up to the surface and drifting as she ponders the structure of her existence. She's never had to do that before, so it's a new sort of feeling. Not knowing. Well, of course she hasn't had to do it before—she's only existed for about an hour!

"Oh my stars," she says suddenly, sitting up and accidentally dunking herself into the water. She laughs through her words as she asks the sky, "What weapon do I have? Do I even have a weapon? I need to check, this is so cool!"

She swims back to the edge so fast she hardly registers the journey, pulling herself up and out and shaking off the water like an animal just because she can. She then sets her hands on her hips and gives it a think.

"If Beks had a sword," she starts, forming the broadsword in her right hand and turning it over. "And El had a fan—oh, geez, that's large—"

She draws the fan from her chest and is startled by how proportionally large it is in her hands, shaking it open and waving it at some leaves on nearby trees before willing herself to focus again. She looks down at the gem weapon and 'weapon' in her hands. "You cross a sword and a blummin' fan and you get..."

She proceeds to cross them—though 'slam them together' might be a more apt description—and is amazed to find that the fan that remains in her hand is somehow even larger, but much thinner, with a sharp protrusion coming from the top of the folded up weapon(?) that she can slide down with her thumb. She parts it open with both hands and realises that the sections of the fan are made up of blades.

"Oh," she says, dumbfounded. "It's a tessen."

She immediately jumps up as high as she can (which is some odd four metres) and slices through a full branch, catching herself on the stub she just sawed off and hanging there as she watches the branch fall and drop to the ground. This is so cool.

"This is so cool," she agrees with herself, dropping to the ground and making herself yet another tessen to dice up the branch like El saw Impulse do while cooking, except a lot slower and clunkier because she's using two giant fans. She throws one horizontally and it embeds itself several centimetres deep into the trunk of a nearby tree. She closes the fan and lets the funny-looking point come out of the top, registering that this makes it an efficient stabbing weapon, too. She's living in a dream.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait," she says, holding out her arms before pulling the fan close to her face. At the base of it is the completely unaltered version of her gem—no scratches or intrusions from Beks, no perfectly pale smoothness from El—her gem is slightly translucent, a bit cloudy in the centre in a way that almost makes it look like its glowing. It's mint green all the way around, interrupted by splotches of shining brown and gold, and something finally clicks in (half of) her mind.

"Chrysoprase," she whispers, then whoops and pumps her arms in the air. "I'm Chrysoprase! That sounds good, doesn't it? I think—that's definitely right. Chrysoprase. Chrysoprase—Chrys? Chryssie? Chryssy with a 'y'? Chrys."

'Chrys' stands in the middle of a forest, by a pond, looking very pleased with herself. There's about ten seconds' worth of peace before she goes off giggling and flying around again, boisterous mood only bolstered by this tremendous discovery of self-identity. She flits around the trees like a nymph, swinging off of branches and hopping between fallen logs and harassing just about every animal that has the misfortune of crossing paths with her, all just because she wants to.

And she can.

And she's happy.

Several hours pass, and Chrys finds that she still exists—which is a wonderful, wonderful thing, because she really does enjoy existing—but her peace is interrupted when a familiar nephrite comes bursting through the trees with that angry scowl that seems to be permanently affixed to his face. Chrys hangs by her legs off of a tree branch and snickers at the sight of Bdubs from an upside-down angle.

She sounds utterly delighted as she says, "You do remind me of a squirrel."

He looks a bit startled, reaching down for his gem as he shouts, "Wha—who—who in the world are you?"

"Chrys!" she replies happily, as if that's meant to help him at all. "I figured that out myself, do you like it? It's short for Chrysoprase."

"Chrysopra—oh. Oh."

Bdubs stops himself and crosses his arms, seemingly realising exactly who she is. He rolls his eye and sighs. "Congratulations," he says begrudgingly.

Chrys giggles. "Why, thank you!"

"I'm sure you've been having a great time, but I've been looking for you for hours!" he continues, his tone keeping that annoyed exasperation even while Chrys unfolds herself from the tree branch in a shocking display of flexibility. She straight up crouches to get at eye level with Bdubs, who looks minorly offended by this. "You need to get back to base, now."

Chrys frowns and tilts her head to the side. "Why's that?"

Bdubs, in his defense, looks a bit guilty. "Jimmy reformed. Your padparadscha immediately showed up our of absolutely nowhere, and he's sayin' you need to do the interrogation now." He pauses, then blinks. "Like, now, now. Like, two-hours-ago now."

Chrys blinks right back at him, all four of her eyes, one after another, then there's about half a second of stars, oh, stars, we're late, what are we doing, he's going to be so mad and calm down, he's hardly in charge of us, he's been MIA for weeks, calm down, and then Chrys, very suddenly, does not exist.

Beks and El fall to the ground next to each other, holding their heads as the jarring effect of splitting so suddenly and without any warning knocks them dizzy. El is immediately tense, pushing herself up to her feet as she mutters, "What were we thinking, he's going to have me in shards for this, we need to go, we need to go—"

Beks reaches out for her but is waved off. She's fine, just a little—panicked. She realises a second too late that Beks can her her thoughts (anymore) and says out loud, "I'm fine. I'm fine. Let's just—"

She holds out a hand to help Beks up to her feet, which Beks very graciously accepts. "Let's just go."

"I'm—sorry," Bdubs says sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. "I just—it's urgent, y'know, I didn't mean to—"

"It's fine," El interrupts, because it really is fine. It's fine for her, at least. "Just...take us back."

Bdubs nods, and before she's able to follow, Beks puts a hand on her shoulder. She's trying to hide a smile when El looks at her, which makes El start to smile and eases the panic just the slightest bit. "Hey—El."

"Yeah?"

Beks' smile grows impossibly wide. "That was fun."

"It was," she admits, glancing back at Bdubs, who has stopped to wait for them. "But we've got to go, Beks—"

"I know, I know," the quartz placates, holding up her other hand. "But just—promise me we'll be able to do that again, yeah? Only if you're okay with it."

"Of course I'm okay with it," she replies quickly, smacking Beks' shoulder with the back of her hand. "As soon as we're able to, I promise. We definitely have to do that again."

They beam at each other, and for a moment, El feels that sharp coolness on her shoulder yet again, but they shake it off and start to follow Bdubs back to the Crastle.

Some other time. She's looking forward to it.

~~~

credit to @mintiliciouss for chrysoprase being their fusion gem, its an utterly PERFECT option (gem that is often mistaken for jade and is, in fact, a type of quartz? WONDERFUL)!

the other side of the war

summary:

Scott likes to think he is a sensible person. Because of this, he doesn't find it at all unreasonable for him to start freaking out when he catches a glimpse of a Homeworld ship passing over the Crastle. Owen is rather certain that he is a sensible person. Because of this, he feels as if his response of dropping his recording device onto a rock and breaking it instantly upon seeing the sapphire that exits the large castle is entirely reasonable.

or: owen, beks, and eloise go from homeworld to find the deserters on earth. owen very much recognises scott. title from story of tonight (reprise) by lin-manuel miranda. au by @chrisrin. fic is life on earth by @sixteenth-days. read the tags!

(ao3 link)

(2,593 words)

Scott likes to think he is a sensible person. Whether that is true or not is entirely subjective, but he's quite sure he is one of the most level-headed gems currently residing on Life, if not the most.

Because of this, he doesn't find it at all unreasonable for him to start freaking out when he catches a glimpse of a Homeworld ship passing over the Crastle.

"Glimpse" is a loose term—he both sees it in a vision and then sees it out of the corner of the window only a few seconds later, almost too fast to catch and not looking like it was planning to stop. The vessel was yellow in colour and rather small, which at the very least tells him that it's not another colonisation attempt or scouting expedition. His relief from that realisation is very quickly undercut by the strangling anxiety at what it could be instead, and his efforts to try and pry into the future to see what could be on the ship are suddenly interrupted by the knowledge that Jimmy was going to come barreling into the room from the window in a few moments.

He does so with as little grace as Scott saw, his foot catching on the ledge and making him lose his balance on his way inside, all the while yelling, "Scott- Scott, I saw another ship fly by-

"I know," Scott says coolly, pretending like there aren't fractals crawling across the wooden boards around his dress.

Jimmy fixes himself from somehow being tangled up in a stone slab. "You know?"

Scott grips the sides of his dress. "I saw."

"Oh," Jimmy says shortly, shoulders slumping. He looks back out the window as if expecting the ship to come around again—which it very well might- before turning back to Scott. His wings are refracting the light of the sun onto the ground, making their trembles all the more obvious. "What do we do?"

"Tell the others, if they haven't seen already." He kicks his legs to break the ice sticking his dress to the floor before it becomes unbearable. "Hopefully, it'll just pass by without encountering us at all."

Jimmy tilts his head to the side like a bird, which are quickly becoming one of Scott's favourite things on Life. "I don't see why it would fly this close to the surface if it was just passing by."

"'Hopefully,' dear," Scott says with a weary smile. "I said 'hopefully.'"

"Ah."

Scott laughs lightly, the warmth in his chest chasing away his anxiety as Jimmy giggles to himself, face turning a slightly darker shade of blue. He reaches out to lay a hand on Jimmy's arm—

—and then there's a small ship in a forest, there's orange and green and blue, there's weapons and shouting and a lapis falling to pieces in front of his eye—

—and Scott's grip on Jimmy's forearm turns almost violent in its intensity. Jimmy looks down at him, concern preciously obvious in all of his body language. Scott doesn't look up. His hands are shaking.

"You saw something," Jimmy says softly, immediately crouching to be at eye level with Scott.

"I did."

His face is pinched with concern and worry and stubborn, stubborn love, a fierce protectiveness that has lead to his hypothetical death in several timelines in Scott's vision. "Was it about the ship? Was it bad?"

Scott shakes his head on instinct before catching himself and leaning more into a head-tilt, like the birds. "They're coming. They've spotted us. There's only three gems, I think, and they're going to land in the forest in front of the Crastle."

Jimmy's face goes pale. "Could you tell what type of gems they were?" Scott shakes his head, and Jimmy immediately pulls him into a hug, which has been his thing lately. Spontaneous displays of affection—though this one, Scott supposes, is not that spontaneous. He hugs Jimmy back and does his best not to touch his wings so as to not drench his arms. "It's gonna be okay, Scott. We'll be alright. We always end up alright."

Scott simply hums in return. The amount of confidence he speaks with is almost hilarious, considering how many times Scott has saved him from shattering without him even knowing. It would be hilarious if they weren't visions of his flower dying gruesomely branded onto the inside of his eyelid. "I know. Just stay close to me, okay? Don't do anything stupid."

Jimmy pulls back but leaves his hands on Scott's shoulders. "I never do anything stupid."

Scott is not content with giving him a look that he will not be able to see. He pushes his bangs out of the way and fixes Jimmy with the most lightheartedly withering glare he can manage.

Jimmy bursts out laughing. Scott can hardly help himself but follow.

-

Owen is rather certain that he is a sensible person. If the contrary was true, he is almost certain that he would have been shattered ages ago, or at the very least, reconditioned due to his innate value. He is almost completely positive that he is one of, if not the most level-headed gems that has ever stepped foot into consciousness.

Because of this, he feels as if his response of dropping his recording device onto a rock and breaking it instantly upon seeing the trio of gems that exit the large castle is entirely reasonable.

There is a jasper that positively towers over him, a lapis lazuli that is shooting him and his company a very distasteful look, and a sapphire, front and centre, just like him.

He gazes into Sapphire's bangs, and Sapphire stares right back.

They're both frozen, the plant matter around Sapphire's dress freezing so quickly the lapis begins to try and kick it away and the matter around Owen's dress cooking to a light sear. The vision of El and Beks' confused expressions flashes like a spotlight into the front of his mind, and he can see equally as perplexed looks on Sapphire's friends' faces.

He cannot believe what he is seeing—it shouldn't even be possible for him to be seeing this. This is wrong, this is terrible, this is—

"Owen?" Sapphire says, taking a step forward. Beks immediately matches the step, but Owen holds out his hand to keep her still. "Owen—Padparadscha, is that really you?"

"Yeah," Owen breathes, before clearing his throat and fixing his posture to be more straight. He glances at Beks and she immediately snatches up the pieces of the broken recorder. That was entirely his fault, be will admit—a reasonable response to seeing a friend currently siding with a bunch of deserting rebels he was sent to interrogate, but his fault nonetheless. "Yes, Sapphire, it's me. What are you doing?"

Sapphire's demeanor almost seems to brighten at that. "Oh, Owen, you wouldn't believe the things we have out here—I go by Scott now, by the way."

"'Scott?'" Owen repeats, rolling the name around in his mouth. "Why? That has nothing to do with you or your cut."

"No, no," 'Scott' says, shaking his head. "It's an alien name. I chose it myself, do you like it?"

"Do I like—Sapphire—Scott, whatever, do you realise how serious this is?"

Scott falters a bit, taking a slight step back as the lapis frowns at Owen. Owen stares directly at him, and he shrinks a bit but still asks, "'Serious?' What makes this so much worse than all the other trips out here?"

Scott elbows the lapis in the thigh, and before Owen can really process the fact that this...group of gems have encountered the other missions, El steps forward and clears her throat. She has been furiously tapping on a holographic screen ever since Owen broke the recorder, most likely transcribing the entire conversation. She doesn't even look up as she begins to speak.

"The Great Diamond Authority has recognised the presence of living and functioning gems on this planet that have not returned to Homeworld after several scouting and retrieval missions. The three of us are here as an extension of their luminescent grace and power to decipher and report upon the locations and intentions of these...missing gems."

The word 'missing' is dripping with distaste and scorn, and Owen is rather sure everyone felt it. Scott takes another step back and Owen stamps out the resulting twist in his chest. It isn't his problem if Scott decided to run off onto some planet and desert his home for...whatever reason. It isn't his problem that the sapphire has seen this writhing, damp, cluttered mess of a planet to be worth more than his life and the lives of those that took the mission with him. He is not going to think about it too hard because he is sensible and would prefer to remain that way.

"So what does that...mean?" the lapis asks, fiddling with his fingers.

"It means we're here to get answers, moron," Beks snaps, leaning on the hilt of her greatsword. "Though I honestly think the fact that you're not begging us to take you home is answer enough."

All three of the gems standing across from them (including Sapphire, and Owen really is trying to wrap his head around the idea that Sapphire is over there and he is over here and they are enemies?, he supposes?) make some sort of scowl, and he sees the water in the pond not too far from them start to ripple, except that was about ten seconds ago and now the surface of the water is choppy and the lapis' gem is starting to glow.

"Owen," Scott says quietly.

"Padparadscha," Owen hisses, digging his fingers into his dress and staring down the lapis lazuli. He feels lightheaded. "No deserter is a friend of mine."

"Stars, Homeworld gems," mutters the jasper, who has looked nothing but mildly intrigued this entire time and is now gazing down at Owen with an unidentifiable expression that makes his skin prickle. "So dramatic."

"There's really no need to get overly-hostile, here," El says nervously, though the fact that she actually glances up from her holoscreen is sign enough that she is ready to bolt at any given moment. "We just want to ask some questions."

"No, I think the quartz may have been right," the jasper says, stretching in a way that cracks her knuckles and other assorted joints audibly but plays it off like a normal stretch. "We've given you answer enough."

"Are you suggesting we fight?" Beks asks, though she sounds more like she's gleefully proposing something rather than asking a question. "'Cause we're not leaving until we complete what we've been told to do. Unlike some, we still have a modicum of responsibility left in our rays."

"Beks," El says irritably, shooting the quartz a glare. "Stop antagonising them."

Beks stops leaning back and forth on her sword and instead properly wraps her hand around the hilt, raising an eyebrow. "I'm not doing anything. I'm just talking."

"We'd appreciate it if you stopped," the lapis insists.

"We'd appreciate it if you shut up," Beks snaps back, the tip of her sword digging further into the ground, piecing through the layer beneath their feet. Owen can't stop staring. "Really, I mean—a bloody lapis? And a sapphire? I mean, I wouldn't expect anything more from a jasper, maybe even a lapis under insane circumstances, but a sapphire? For this? This disgusting, pulsing planet?"

Owen blinks, and he can see serrated spikes rising from the water's surface.

Scott blinks, and he can see that same image of a lapis shattering in front of his eyes.

For a moment, the two of them are in sync again.

And then the spikes go flying, and Owen shouts out Beks' name as she lifts her sword to attack and the lapis kicks into the air with his wings. El immediately shrieks and ducks away, dress snagging on the sharp edges of the terrain as Beks' sword goes swinging in a terrifyingly wide arc in front of them. The only thing Owen can do is yell, really, until he realises he can do more and throws himself into Beks' back as hard as physically possible. He lands on top of her, and then falls straight onto the forest floor, something sharp digging into his abdomen.

At the same time, Jimmy's name is torn from Scott's throat as he lunges towards the lapis, attaching himself to his legs and pulling him down, yanking him closer to the ground just as weapons make contact and suddenly, Scott is holding nothing.

Scott snatches Jimmy's gem off the forest floor (thank the stars, thank the stars, that was entirely too close and he can barely breathe and he is shaking so hard he's scared the vibrations might end up shattering Jimmy, anyway) and shouts, "Enough! Enough, please. Cleo, please."

Owen's vision shifts back to reality (after watching three shards of ice go directly through Beks' head as her sword cut clean through the lapis' neck) and he realises that he is at the end of the jasper's weapon—'Cleo's' weapon, apparently. He looks up at her and sits up, scooping Beks' gem into his hands and clutching it close to his chest.

"This...this will get us nowhere," Scott says through ragged breaths, and Owen blinks and he sees a lapis gem shattering from Scott's point of view- a disorienting past-vision of Scott's future-vision that makes him feel dizzy. He hasn't done that in so long. How long has Scott been out here? Owen knew he went on a mission somewhere, but it isn't that uncommon for those to take several months, or even years before becoming a real concern. How long has Scott been missing?

"I—I agree," calls El from several feet away. Her dress is shredded at the bottom and Owen is quite sure this is the first time he has ever seen her legs. He blinks, hard, and sees Scott holding the lapis' hand as they walked out of the castle in front of them. A deep, painful pit settles in his stomach. "Please, let's just sit down and talk."

Owen feels a bit ill. The present and the recent past are often a bit too similar and a bit too frequent for him to properly categorise, and he suddenly fears the idea of getting them very, very badly confused like he has done several times before. For some of those times, Scott was there to help him. He sees Scott pushing his hair back, staring at him, except when Owen actually looks, his hair is down and his hand is hovering by his chest. Around where his heart would be.

"Owen," he says quietly. "Let's go inside."

Owen blinks and sees Scott and this lapis encouraging each other, warning each other just behind the door, hugging each other, Scott standing on his toes while the lapis leans down and—

Oh. His vision shifts focus again. He's too dizzy for this. The sun is going down and the sky is painted in brilliant shades of yellow and orange and red and purple. It's black and tainted with trillions of stars in his vision alone.

"Yeah, alright," Owen whispers, looking down at Beks. He swipes his thumb against the face of the gem and holds her tighter in his hands. Scott is pressing the lapis to his forehead. The lapis is in a blue bubble within Scott's hands. Owen feels dizzy. "Let's go inside."

[honeypiehotchner]

Looking Too Closely (Bucky x Stark!Fem!Reader) — part two

I’m backkk so sorry this took forever, my idiot/goblin brain wanted to hold onto this part for longer?? Anywho

Summary: The one in which you meet Bucky Barnes for the first time. Also the one in which you want to ram Tony Stark’s skull into the wall.

Warnings: angst, mentions of past violence, mentions of death, Tony is still pretty douchey (I know y’all don’t wanna hear this but he is a giant asshole 99% of the time)

Series Masterlist

You can’t sleep.

It doesn’t help that you haven’t had a real bed to sleep in — let alone one that has memory foam or whatever the hell that is on this mattress — for some time now. But the Tower is too quiet.

You can’t open your window and Tony must have the place basically sound-proofed because you can’t hear any of the city sounds that you’re used to. The late night traffic, the sirens, the footsteps, the voices, the fights, the snoring. You’re alone in here and it’s eating you alive.

You’re still wearing Wanda’s clothes. Pepper said she’d let you pick out some clothes today and they could be delivered. She offered to go shopping somewhere with you, but you don’t want anything fancy. You’ve never even been to a mall, not to shop, so that idea alone felt too much.

Grabbing a pillow from the bed, you move to the floor in front of the window. Laying on your stomach, you rest your elbows on the pillow, staring out at the city lights.

After some time, you give in and lay your head down, hoping it’ll bring sleep around. Luckily for you, it does.

Unluckily for you, sleeping on your stomach on the hard floor has your ribs feeling properly bruised by the time the sun rises. You roll over onto your back, letting your shoulder blades take the weight for the next couple hours.

By the time late morning rolls around, you open your eyes, feeling exhausted. Restless sleep is the only kind of sleep you know.

Dragging yourself off the floor, you head to the bathroom to brush your teeth. You’re not used to having one, but you’ll gladly use the toothbrush here. That’s one thing you missed more than the others while you were homeless.

You exit the bathroom and head out into the hall, down to the living area and kitchen. It’s quiet, so you figure everyone is gone or out.

You’re busy climbing on the counter to look in the top cabinet when you hear footsteps on the hall, but they’re sort of far away, or they sound muffled like they’re a distance away. You halt your movements for good measure of listening, and you definitely feel like someone is down the hall.

But, your stomach growls, so you go back to rummaging through the cabinet.

The person you sensed steps around the corner into the kitchen and freezes. He has no idea who you are, but you’re standing on top of the counter, and that’s when he realizes you’re standing on top of the counter.

This is around the same moment that you vaguely sense the same presence from the hall behind you, and you jump when you see someone is actually standing there.

He is next to the counter in a split second, holding his Vibranium arm out in case you fall. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Trying to get cereal, what the fuck does it look like?”

“It looked like you were about to fall on your ass.”

“Lucky me, I didn’t,” you snort, resisting the urge to kick his face. He’s at the perfect height for you to do it, too. “Who the hell are you?”

“Bucky,” he answers. “Who the hell are you?” He fires back.

“Y/N,” you reply, turning to go back to looking in the cabinet. It’s mostly random things, nothing you particularly care to eat. “Do you know where everyone is?”

Bucky leans back against the opposite counter, arms crossed over his chest. “Probably asleep. We just got back an hour ago.”

You hum. Right, Tony said a few of them were out. “Then why aren’t you sleeping?”

“Don’t want to mess up my schedule.”

“Hm.” You smell bullshit.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you huff, closing the cabinet and hopping down. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

As you’re making your way toward the hall, you’re stopped by Tony’s voice.

“Munchkin. Get back here. You and I have some things to discuss.”

You spin around. “What now?”

“What now is right,” Tony deadpans. “Come on. My office. And Barnes, go the fuck to sleep for once.”

Bucky snorts, flipping Tony off, but only you saw it. You grinned, mouthing thank you.

Bucky smiled boyishly in return.

+++

Tony conveniently waits until his office door has shut before he starts in on the questions.

“When did your mother pass away?”

“A month ago,” you reply slowly, really too exhausted to deal with this or Tony right now. “Why are you asking that?”

“Because I wanted to see if you’d continue to lie to me, and you have.”

“What are you talking about?” You gathered that he was a pain in the ass, but delusional, too? Jesus.

“She didn’t pass away a month ago. Her funeral was a month ago.”

“Okay? And? What the hell does it matter?”

“The funeral was delayed because the police think you killed her.”

Fuck. He found out. “Well I didn’t.”

Tony looks ready to scream at you. “So you knew there was a warrant out for your arrest?”

“Well, yes, but—” This time Tony does cut you off by a million cuss words, but you continue over top of him. “I thought they gave up!”

“You knew they were looking for you and you walked in here instead. I should turn you in right now. In fact, I don’t know why I haven’t called the police yet.” He’s waving his arms wildly, no doubt trying to control his anger at the absurdity of this situation.

You cross your arms over your chest. “They have no proof.”

“Clearly they have something or there wouldn’t be a warrant.”

“They don’t have shit, Tony. I wasn’t even near my house when it went up in flames, alright? I was a mile away.”

“Where? Where were you?”

“At a gas station.”

“What were you doing there?”

“Are you interrogating me?” Is he recording this? Your eyes search briefly for cameras before you remember he’s a tech genius, so his cameras are probably hidden.

“I’m just trying to get to the bottom of why you have a warrant and why you decided to waltz in here. Do you know how much trouble this could get me in?”

“I’m sure you could pay your way out of it.”

“Hey,” he snaps his fingers at you, “I’m being serious.”

“Me too,” you snap your fingers back at him, too fed up with him to care, “Mr. Billionaire.”

The two of you stare at one another, unblinking, unflinching, anger seeping through your skin. Tony has realized quickly that no matter how hard he pushes your buttons, you’ll push his right back, just as much if not more.

Maybe you are his.

“I’ll ask one more time,” Tony starts. “Did you start that fire?”

“I was too busy getting stabbed to start a fucking fire, okay?”

This has Tony reeling in shock instead of anger. “Stabbed? Are you fucking nuts? What do you mean you were getting stabbed?”

“I mean I was getting stabbed. What else do you think that means?”

Tony sighs tiredly, frustration making him clench his jaw. “Where?”

You gesture to your abdomen. “Just in a couple places.”

Tony’s eyes widen. “A couple— Alright, you know what, we can finish this later, because right now,” he points his index finger at you, “you need to get to MedBay.”

“What?”

“Yeah, that’s the thing about getting stabbed, munchkin. It can cause internal damage. And if you never went to the hospital—”

“I stitched myself up, it was fine—”

“Uh-uh, shut it,” he snaps. “Come on. Come with me.”

+++

You run into Bucky once again when you get off the elevator at MedBay. He’s talking with Steve who is checking on Natasha who is a little bruised, and all three of their heads turn when they see you dragging your feet behind Tony.

Bucky gives you a questioning look while Steve and Natasha look plain confused, both having not met you until now.

“FRIDAY,” Tony calls out. “I need a full body scan on Y/N.”

“Yes, Mr. Stark.”

You roll your eyes as Tony gestures you into a room. You can still see everyone through the glass walls as you step on a small circle in the floor, presuming it’s where you need to stand for the scan.

Steve asks the million dollar question. “What’s going on?”

“Got stabbed,” you reply with a shrug, making Tony’s blood boil even faster.

Natasha snorts at your nonchalance, Steve gives Tony a baffled look, but Bucky seems weirdly concerned. “You what?”

“It was a long time ago,” you tell Bucky.

“No, it was a few months ago. And she never went to a hospital,” Tony adds, right as FRIDAY finishes the scan. “What have we got FRIDAY?”

“Evidence of internal bleeding that has since stopped, but nothing else. Everything has healed properly.”

“Well thank god for that,” Tony deadpans.

You nearly flip him off right there, but you settle on a glare. “Are you done?”

“Yes,” Tony says. “But we’re not done.”

“For fuck’s sake, I did not start the fire!”

“Oh no, I believe you there,” Tony says. “I wanna know who stabbed you.”

“Some random idiots,” you shrug, walking out of the room and past Tony, back toward Steve, Natasha, and Bucky. “Leave me the hell alone about it. Goddamn.”

Tony lets you walk this time, watching you storm off toward the elevator. Meanwhile, he has two super soldiers and a spy staring at him like they just found out his darkest secret.

“So...that’s Y/N,” Natasha comments. “She’s got fire.”

“She’s also got an attitude,” Tony retorts.

“It’s just like yours,” Steve fires back, raising an eyebrow.

Tony ignores him.

“Here’s my question,” Natasha says. “If she was stabbed that many times in that many places— How did it heal? That’s not normal.” And when Tony gives her a confused look, she adds, “You know what I mean.”

“Wait,” Steve catches on. “You don’t think she’s…” He looks over at Bucky.

“She knew I was standing behind the wall earlier,” Bucky says, a realization crossing his face. “She could sense me. I heard her, but I was too far away for any normal person to hear me.”

“Okay, let’s not jump to these conclusions right now,” Tony interjects. “It’s bad enough she has an arrest warrant and a habit of getting stabbed. I don’t need to worry about her being like you two knuckleheads.”

“It’s still worth looking into,” Natasha comments.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees. “We need to know if she is, Tony.”

“Well right now, she’s being a hormonal teenager, so I don’t think I’ll be able to ask her about it,” Tony deadpans.

“She just lost her mom,” Bucky says, remembering when Steve told him, and his heart broke for you. “Give her a break.”

“If you want to talk to her Barnes, go right ahead.”

“I might,” Bucky retorts, already heading toward the exit so he can find where you went. “Just to apologize for your attitude.”

+++

It takes Bucky a full ten minutes of searching for you before he remembers he can just ask FRIDAY.

“She’s currently in her room, James, but it is on Do Not Disturb.”

“Can you override that for me?” Bucky asks the AI.

“One moment.”

Bucky has no idea why FRIDAY needs a moment, but he waits. He’s in the living area so your room is just down the hall, but knocking does no good when Do Not Disturb is live. He knows because he uses it every night. No sound gets in or out.

“Do Not Disturb overridden by Tony Stark.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. Of course.

He heads down the hall to knock on your door, but you don’t respond. Because of the circumstances, Bucky goes against his better judgement and opens your door.

He’s met with a pillow hitting his chest.

“Oh,” you say immediately after. Bucky is surprised to find you sitting on the floor in front of the window, facing the city skies with a blanket over your shoulders. “Sorry. FRIDAY said Tony overrode it so I thought it was him.”

“Nope, just me,” Bucky replies, holding out his hands. He reaches down and grabs the pillow, tossing it back on your bed. “What are you doing down there?”

“Looking,” you shrug, turning back around to face the city.

“Can I join you?”

“Sure.”

Bucky shuts the door. “FRIDAY, put Do Not Disturb back up please.”

“Of course, James. Do Not Disturb is now active.”

“It’s really weird,” you say. “Having an AI in this place. Doesn’t it creep you out?”

Bucky lets out a laugh when he kneels to the floor to sit a little distance away from you, putting his back to the window. “There’s a lot of tech I don’t understand. I kinda had to get used to it quick when I was in Wakanda, though, so nothing phases me anymore.”

“Right, you were...gone for a while,” you pause, not knowing how to approach the subject. “You and Steve both were, right?”

He nods. “Steve was frozen, I was brainwashed.”

He says it so bluntly that you don’t know how to respond at all.

“I’m not anymore,” Bucky continues. “But I did a lot that I’m not proud of. And I was framed for something I didn’t do.”

You half-hum, half-scoff at that. “So you know what it’s like.”

Bucky nods, leaning his head back against the window. “I do.”

“Who were you brainwashed by again?”

“HYDRA,” Bucky replies, tensing a little. “Why?”

“Just curious,” you shrug. “The name sounds familiar, though.”

Bucky lifts his head from the window. “How familiar?”

You shake your head, unsure. “I dunno. It was all over the news, though, right? That’s probably why.”

“Yeah, probably,” Bucky replies slowly. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.” You bring your knees up to your chest, hugging them.

“Do you know why you were stabbed?”

You don’t move a single muscle. You don’t even blink.

“Tony was an asshole,” Bucky says. “He shouldn’t force you to talk about something that recent.”

“Yeah.”

“But if you do ever wanna talk about it,” Bucky pauses, “I’m here. No pressure, though. I get it.”

You nod slowly, watching him from your peripheral vision. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Just not right now,” you continue, surprising yourself and Bucky. “Maybe later.”

“Whenever you want,” he shrugs. “I’ll give you some space, though. Do you uh...want your pillow back?”

You perk up a little. “Yeah, thanks. If you don’t mind.”

Bucky pushes himself to his feet, walking over to the bed to grab your pillow. He tosses it back to you gently.

You smile softly and hug it to your chest, but Bucky knows that once he leaves, you’ll lay down and sleep, right there in front of the window. Because your bed must be too soft.

He gets it. His is, too.

[echotunes]

Hello hi please give me your thoughts on last life Martyn lore. DUDE I thought he was like, one of the only "good" people on the server, because in the last episode he acted genuinely concerned with Scott about the possibility of a wither on the server, but then BAM! Secret Alliance to ✨the moon✨ (and conveniently Ren)??? Literally none of the Southlanders have a *clue*, I don't even think anyone brought up/noticed how he was missing a life after he came home?? Ohoho I love this man

HELLO ANON. DO YOU WANT TO GET MARRIED (/j but thank you for enabling me)

I'm not sure about the "good" people thing because morality on Last Life is dubious anyway but I do get what you mean, he did seem to have people's best interests at heart mostly. (and also just didn't want Grian to have a Wither because that's bad news for everyone really)

I do have to mention that the Southlanders did notice his life was gone, it was just cut out of some of the POVs. It's in Martyn's and Impulse's, when they're about to do the life trading circle thing

Impulse: Wait, when did Martyn die? Martyn: No, I didn't die, I got cornered. Impulse: Huh? Martyn: Yeah, I got cornered by the fairy fort lot. They basically tried to accuse me of burning down the place and then, yeah. It was basically, they were either gonna kill me or I just give them a life anyway, so I thought rather than causing too much drama and getting into a fight, I just had to give it out. Mumbo: I feel like it would take a lot for me to give my life, actually. Martyn: It was a 3v1 situation. And then they had Cleo lurking around as well, and as you can see, Cleo is now back up to yellow.

So he's obviously just making things up here, but he mentions in his POV that he thought it'd be good not to lie about the fact that the fairy people involved, just cover up the actual reason why he gave them the life. They're then interrupted by Lizzie getting Spooky Scary Skeletons in chat as Scott gives her a Wither skull, and continue their life trading circle, so it ends up not being discussed further.

Anyways! Yes! Martyn lore! There is SO much that I constantly think about. There's his "lore voice"/entity thing that carried over from 3rd Life and his teaser video on Twitter that shows up sometimes and I just. have so many thoughts about it. very long post up ahead

There's the Twitter video, which I was actually just having another look at, and I noticed that--

Long have we waited.. A hunger grows.. Surpass them all.. Take friends for foes.. Live not for others.. Invest in one.. For if they fall Ere will be done!

--abbreviates to LAST LIFE! he gave us the name of the series before it had even started what the hell

Then there's him seeing Ren in session 2:

Sacrifice those that landed Lessons acknowledged Can claim flags among ashes..

not sure about these three lines :( messing around with an anagram solver gave me LAST ACT but i highly doubt that that was intentional. not sure what these are about. they might just be literal but i'm still having a hard time interpreting them. There does seem to be a general theme of the entity wanting Martyn to win Last Life at all costs, "lessons acknowledged" might be about him learning his lession from 3rd Life where he got too attached to Ren and was no longer willing to betray him to win. not sure though

Help another Never doubt

this abbreviates to HAND

When in need Traverse each route

and this to WINTER

so! interesting! huh. (i am so incredibly normal about renchanting duo /lie)

Next, there's him talking to Team BEST in session 4:

Tell a lie.. Sow the seed Undermine Know and free It must be done!

This abbreviates to TSUKI (月 / "moon" in Japanese) and also doubles as the voice telling him to sow doubt among the others, because this is followed by him writing a note to make Tango distrustful of Impulse

At the end of session 4, Ren and Martyn talk with the Lore Filter on screen and do some vaguely cryptic roleplaying. Notable quotes are "The dog, the shadow, the roots. We make this place burn." and "They will feel it all under the eye of the moon." The dog is obviously Ren, the shadow might be Lizzie, and I suppose the roots might be Martyn? because inthelittlewood? tree? plant? roots? I don't know this one is a bit of a stretch and I'm not entirely sure what he's talking about here but it sure is a thing that he says. And then the other quote is another moon thing!

Next session, Jimmy steals Martyn's life during the Southlands' trading circle thing, and the entity shows up while Martyn is chasing Jimmy:

FORGET THE RULES THE OPPORTUNITY RETRIEVE IT NOW THE REST WILL AGREE END THIS BETRAYAL DO NOT LET HIM ESCAPE!!!

don't see any code in here, and I think this one was pretty literal anyway - get his life back by any means necessary, or kill Jimmy so he can't have it. That seems in line with how the entity has acted so far - win Last Life at all costs.

One interesting thing is also the fact that his lore filter shows up for no reason when Scar puts him in a hole underground while telling the Southlanders about his soul shop and it seems so unnecessarily cryptic?? why is the Lore Screen on you are sitting in a dirt hole sir

He also has some fun robes for the Shadow Alliance that he's now secretly a part of! would you look at that! what's that on the back?

IT'S THE MOON KANJI 月 AGAIN!

and then the last, and perhaps most interesting, instance of the lore voice is at the very end of Martyn's episode 5:

Why do you linger so? You wish to join the Shadow? [white jack-o-lantern face and fire appear on screen] Boo! (evil laughter) A DEMONSTRATION IS IN ORDER LIGHTS EXTINGUISH BEGIN THE SLAUGHTER OUR WILL BE DONE!

genuinely what the fuck does this mean. ok, breaking it down.

"why do you linger so? you wish to join the shadow?" the entity wants to know why he's hesitating to join the fairy people. this doesn't make sense, though! he already has joined them! what are you on about! unless this about fully leaving the Southlands in order to join the fairy people? but that'd just be a bad move tactically since he's currently acting as a double agent for them to spy on the Southlands so I really have no idea

the jack-o-lantern face, the fire, and the "boo!" are probably just to scare him. jack-o-lanterns and "boo" fit together. fire is scary. there's already some weird shit going on with fire this season (invisible fire, green fire, Mumbo glitching to still be on fire post-lava death, all that fun stuff). the evil laughter is just concerning

and then the text is in all caps and i have NO CLUE what it's about. "a demonstration is in order - lights extinguish - begin the slaughter" WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON IN THERE!

and then there's "our willl be done!" which just lines up. so far we've had "ere will be done" (which makes no sense grammatically but was probably in part because there needed to be an E at the end for the LAST LIFE abbreviation), "it must be done", "our will be done"

And there's 3rd Life, too! We had a couple instances of the lore voice in that as well, and in 3rd Life, they seemed more active (and spoke in plural, notably).

"It is not yet your time Green one.." when his life flashed before his eyes when the house on Monopoly Mountain exploded

(a lot of differently pitched voices overlaid) "It's time. Get him, zombies! Here he goes!" during the Battle of the Red Desert when some husks pushed him into lava

"Reluctant to fall Eager to rise Answer our call When next you rest your eyes.." after he died to the skeleton chasing the banner

"After every winter There comes a spring The banners burn The songbirds sing Vanquish them all Then ally with none This is our call Our will, be done" after he died to Impulse during the battle at Skizz Point and went red

"We are not pleased... Change is in order Our will be DONE!" after his death in the Battle of Dogwarts

So, what do we take from this? Well, the 3rd Life voice(s) spoke in less code, and seemed to want him to go red so he could do their bidding, which in turn seemed to be winning 3rd Life.

We don't know who this entity(/entities?) is and we don't know why they want Martyn to win this series so badly.

Notably, they want this at all costs in both seasons - in 3rd Life, they wanted him to end Red Winter ("after every winter there comes a spring", "the songbirds sing") and betray his allies ("the banners burn", "vanquish them all then ally with none") to win, and in Last Life, they want him to win ("surpass them all"), not focus on allies ("take friends for foes", "live not for others"), and generally win and have as many lives possible at all costs ("FORGET THE RULES").

...And then he gives a life to Ren in Last Life. That doesn't line up at all, does it? Of course, he might just want to get the fairy people to trust him, but it also does genuinely feel like he's trying to be loyal to them. He's betraying the Southlands for them and gave them one of his lives - which the lore entity is bound to dislike! As I just said, they didn't like his alliance with Ren in 3rd Life, urged him to either get that life back from Jimmy or ignore the rules and kill him, and generally want Martyn to win at all costs. So I hardly think they'd approve of him giving one of his precious lives away - especially not to Ren of all people.

And then at the end of the episode, he's evidently being threatened and/or shown horrible things - as a punishment for giving away the life, maybe? He's defied the entity in both 3rd Life (by not betraying Dogwarts) and Last Life (by giving one of his lives to Ren), and both times involved Ren. So I'm very interested to see where that's going to lead.

I'm not entirely sure about all this - you've very much just enabled me to ramble about Martyn lore and make theories as I go along - but I really do think that I might be onto something here. cc!Martyn did say we would find out who the entity is this season. We'll figure stuff out eventually. But it's all absolutely fascinating to me and if anyone else wants to talk to me about this stuff, please please do because I absolutely love taking this apart

[kaashiboo]

ahah heeeey!!!!! can i request kenma, akaashi and sugawara as best friends with gender neutral reader?

thank you for your hard work i really enjoy reading your headcannons (灬º‿º灬)♡

haikyuu boys as your best friend

┇ kenma, akaashi, and suga

gn!reader

【warnings: none】

➢ general note: ohoho this is a very long one so buckle up!

✎ a/n: aaww this is request is cute! thank you for appreciating my work and i'm so glad you enjoy reading them! take care of yourself!<3

kenma

you've been friends with kenma and kuroo ever since you were a child but you're more close with kenma due to his chill personality.

but that doesn't mean that you're less chaotic

kenma honestly questions himself as to why he's best friends with you

but you're a bit more tolerable than kuroo he guesses.

"say, if i hypothetically and accidentally broke your swi— kenma, you're gonna kill me with your stare." you laugh nervously.

"give it to me." you removed your hand behind your back and gave him his switch with a pout.

"are you mad at me?" you asked, rubbing your nape. awkwardly.

kenma sighed loudly, "yeah."

"oh" your shoulders dropped.

"but it's fine since i already bought a new one. i'm mad because i was planning to give you this one but i guess we have to make someone check it out if it's still repairable." he replied and your eyes lit up in excitement.

"really?"

"yeah."

"but i don't have the money for it."

"we'll make kuroo pay." he shrugged and you tilted your head in confusion.

"eh? do you really think he would agree to that?"

"i don't know. maybe. just do all his work or compliment him everyday, that might work."

"are you two planning on how to murder me?" kuroo appears out of nowhere, ruffling kenma's and your hair.

"yes." the setter and you answered in unison.

people also wonder how you can keep up with kenma but you're honestly one of the people that can see through him and could tell whether something is bothering him.

and he never hesitated to show you what he really feels. if he's mad then you'd let him vent and let out all his frustrations.

and there were times as well where he just wanted to be away from anyone so you gave him space.

but because he finds you tolerable, he begged you to not distance yourself from him.

now, in terms of YOU being sad, we all know he's not the greatest when it comes to comforting people but he would always find a way to cheer you up like offering you to play games with him.

he would even let you do the interior design of his house in minecraft as long as he can see you're enjoying.

just like what others do, he would typically protect you from mobs while you pick up flowers.

but most of the time, you would have a competition on which person could kill as many mobs as they can.

you also would do stupid challenges that you see on youtube.

and late night walks with him are the best since you never had to worry about bothering him when he rarely sleeps early.

let me rephrase that real quick, it's mostly you walking around while kenma sits on a bench,,, still playing.

but he would occasionally look for you to make sure you weren't lost or kidnapped.

you would eventually get tired so you just... lay on the grass and roll around.

kenma puts down his switch, "what are you doing, y/n?"

"i'm bored. you're not even paying attention." you whispered the last part but he still caught it.

"alright, sorry. stand up now. let's go to the convenience store and crash at kuroo's house." he offered and you immediately agreed.

because the two of you never failed to be in the same class every year, your classmates would be confused since you two would verbally fight and give each other a silent treatment and then one second later, you would give him food and he tries to help you beat the level you're currently on with the game you're playing.

and in the timeskip, the three of you have stable jobs like, rich rich rich very rich.

"at this point, we can be your sugar daddies." kuroo jokes but you paid no attention to him as you were still busy processing with what kenma gave you as a present.

literally everything you need for streaming— heck, you're not even sure if you would use all of them.

but kenma still wanted to drag you along with him to do things that he loves

not that you'd complain about it anyway.

"you're helping me set everything up." you finally recovered from your state of shock and pulled kenma up from your couch.

akaashi

and the best 'best friend' award goes to akaashi keiji!

look, just because he's a laid-back person, doesn't mean he's unaware of how to push your buttons.

he would subtly annoy you. so subtle that not everyone could notice that you wanted to murder him on the spot.

"akaashi keiji, i will seriously ki—"

"it's settled then! y/n, please come to my office now." the teacher spoke, making you groan in frustration before standing up but you made sure to purposely step on his foot and he silently winced in pain.

the chat with the teacher didn't take long and when you exited the office, you saw your best friend standing outside, waiting for you with a barely noticeable smirk.

yeah, we might have to take back his award.

you rolled your eyes and walked past him but he grabbed your bag and pulled you back.

"sorry, do i know you?" you scoffed.

"look, i'm sorry. i already told you that you shouldn't sleep in class." he reminded, implying that him dragging you into doing something was a sort of consequence from sleeping in class.

"i know! but you decided to be annoying again and volunteered that i would help with some activity." you complained. he still hasn't let go of your bag but you continued walking which may or may not made it look like you were his pet.

akaashi knows you're not actually mad at him and so he didn't have to bother to apologize again.

"if it makes you feel better, i volunteered first before you. at least we're now both busy."

you didn't respond and continued walking, "where are you going?" he asks.

"home."

"no."

"no?"

"i have practice," he said.

"what does that have to do with me?!" you wailed.

"nothing." you facepalmed and let him pull you to the gym.

the first time you met was during middle school. you were crying because you lost a competition and unfortunately for you, akaashi was the one who won.

he tried comforting you but you pushed him away.

akaashi was persistent though. he didn't want you to stay mad at him and so he bothered you everyday until you finally started to warm up to him.

you sighed for the ninth time. deciding to make a paper plane and throw it to akaashi's way.

it fortunately hit his forehead and he 'tsk-ed' at your action but he continued reading the book anyway.

you reached for the plane, crumpling it until it's round.

"i thought you were gonna teach me?" you question and threw the paper at him, again but lucky for him, he caught it.

he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, "how am i supposed to teach you if you keep throwing things at me?"

you see, you're smart but there are certain subjects that you really hate and you coincidentally got sick during a discussion and now you and akaashi are currently studying in the library.

he knows he could have just lent you his notes and you can just take a photo of it but he wouldn't let you do that because his reasoning was, "you'll learn better if you write it down." you've complained to him about it many times and he'll eventually get tired and not give you anything so now you've learned your lesson,

don't annoy keiji.

but sometimes, he's kind enough to cover for you when you're asleep during class and would lie to the teachers by saying you're sick.

which rarely happens since he doesn't always tolerate you so being friends with him feels like having a parent watch you all the time.

"maybe if i befriended konoha then i'm already done with this." you huffed.

"he doesn't have the patience to deal with you, y/n." you let out an offended gasp before throwing your pencil case at him.

honestly speaking, the two of you get along really well. you're more talkative and he tends to listen to your rants a lot.

and of course, he would also share to you how his day went and how he found a new way to get bokuto out of his emo mode.

hanging out with him outside of school can be chaotic at times.

especially if you decide to go to the arcade because expect him to tease you a lot when you couldn't get the prize you wanted.

he would help you though:)

and since you two are a popular duo, you would often get a lot of confessions from boys and akaashi would ramble about how it's a waste of time and that you should focus on your studies.

but he would also reassure you that he'll support you no matter what decision you make.

in conclusion, he's a bit confusing and indecisive but he just wants the best for you but then he would also start thinking that he's being controlling of your own life.

akaashi also can't keep his cool sometimes,

"i can't believe they cheated on me." you hugged your legs closer to your chest as you sob.

his practice was already over but he insisted that the two of you stay at the gym so that you could talk to him about your problems.

"they’re an asshole, y/n." he replied.

usually, he would rub circles on your back when you're crying but this time, he stayed still on his seat so you glanced at him and frowned.

"you weren't even paying attention," you said.

"i was," he stopped typing on his phone to look at you.

"i was just searching up ways how to murder someone without getting caught." he joked and you chuckled.

"just kidding. i was ordering your favorite food. now stand up and wipe your tears. don't let that asshole see you vulnerable. show him that you don't even need him in the first place because you don't need anyone, 'kay?" he pulled you up and nodded at his advice.

"except for me, of course. how else would you be alive if it weren't for me?"

"i have my own parents." you rolled your eyes playfully.

"they don't love you— they prefer me." he teased once again. earning a punch from you.

suga

aDMIT IT, SUGA IS SO FUN TO BE WITH.

like sureeee he would help you most of the time

but he's also the same person that would get you in trouble.

"vice principal, i am so sorry! i didn't mean to knock off your wig! please don't suspend me—"

"it's fine, l/n. just go and don't tell anyone." the old man sighed.

you bowed and left, running to where suga was standing.

you saw your friend biting his lower lip to stifle a laugh.

you glared at him but you couldn't help but to cackle at what happened and now you two are being noisy in the hallway that made others look at you weirdly.

"i told you, he's bald!" he exclaimed and your laugh couldn't get any louder until you start coughing from the lack of oxygen.

"oH MY GOD— DON'T DIE ON ME Y/N," he said dramatically before offering you a bottle of water.

"you're so dramatic, please shut up." you rolled your eyes after drinking.

you and suga have been arguing for a week about how he witnessed himself how the vice principal's wig flew off and it was too good to be true so you didn't believe him.

not until your beloved best friend pushed you to the vp's direction accidentally.

you were taller than the old man so when you bumped into him, you wanted to grab onto something for support but instead, you knocked off his hairpiece.

and suga ran away instead of helping you.

we love a supportive friend.

"well at least he was kind enough to not give you a punishment." suga shrugged and you just nodded your head in agreement.

when you transferred to karasuno during second year, you luckily met suga when you asked for directions.

you two were in the same class so he accompanied you the whole day.

he was very talkative and you loved hearing him talk about volleyball.

at first, you admired him for how approachable and kind he is

but now you just want to kick him.

"i said he wasn't my crush!" you convinced him but suga ony hummed in response.

"but you were staring at him with heart eyes." he quirked a brow.

"i wasn't!"

"you were!"

"i wasn't!"

"you we—"

"suga and y/n, that's enough." daichi sighed. pushing the two of you apart from each other.

"daichi! your vice captain is being annoying again."

"daichi, did you know that y/n has a crush on y—" his words were cut off when you covered his mouth with your hand and he had no choice but to bite your palm and you backed away in disgust.

"i don't like you anymore." you huffed and he just ruffled your hair.

"ah really now?" he smiled but you knew that behind that smile was an evil intention.

"nevermind." you muttered. not trusting your own friend.

oh and your parents adore suga.

like, they know you have other friends as well but suga is the only person they trust to be with you all the time.

and honestly, you agree with them. no words or numbers could describe how much you trust the setter.

despite his naughty and chaotic attitude, he always takes care of you.

kind of like akaashi but he's a bit more loose.

he's very good at giving you advice.

he's also the type of friend that sulks when you miss a game.

like, he would literally ignore you.

and now you're struggling how to make him forgive you.

"kōshi, enough. you've been ignoring me for a week! it was just one game, come on." you persuaded, poking his side but he didn't budge and continued writing down notes.

"i'm sorry for missing your game. i swear, it was an accident! i would never miss your next match again!"

he shifted in his seat and your eyes were filled with hope.

he looks at you with a slight hint of disappointment, "even if i'm not a regular anymore?" the question caught you off guard.

"what do you mean?" he remained quiet and you took that as a sign that he didn't wanna talk and so you impatiently waited for classes to be over.

as soon as you were dismissed, you pulled him out of the classroom to take him to your favorite spot just near the gym.

"i don't like how you're doubting my ability to support you. it doesn't matter what you do— heck, you could even commit a crime and i might bail you out of jail." you uttered. finally breaking the silence that engulfed the two of you the past few minutes.

you struggle with expressing how you feel sometimes and being able to decipher your analogies is one of suga's skills.

"your comforting skill is top tier." he replied.

you know how he would playfully hit his teammates? he'd do the same to you but he would only give you head pats, not wanting to hurt you physically.

and you unexpectedly just learned how to love it.

it somehow inspires you to work harder since he only gives you head pats when you achieve something and it's his way of congratulating you!

he also likes to drag you along with him. he wants to watch a movie? he would buy an extra ticket just for you!

but sometimes, he would whine about being broke when he's with you🤡

would also be ready to make a presentation as to why you are his platonic soulmate.

please just agree with him so he won't be sad</3

last but not the least, gossiping.

literally, the two of you will not call it a day if you haven't talked about any issues at all.

so even if you were sleepy, he would call or text you in the middle of the night and be like, 'tea time?'

aaahh imagine how shock i was when i saw that this was about 2k words overall AHAHA. i know that akaashi's part seems a bit off but honestly i just imagine him being a bit mischevious and more open to people he's genuinely close with so yeah! i had so much fun writing but i feel bad becaue it was so long- anyway, thank you for reading!<3

[burning-moths]

Hmm, I think there's a lot of room to explore how being with the blade may have encouraged suicidal tendencies in Keith, or at least taught him to value his life less than he already did, especially in the light of Naczela

That said, I don't think I agree with some of what you've said here (which is fine, makes for interesting discussions!)

For one, no they didn't treat him like someone special for being a paladin, and that makes sense. I doubt Keith would want special treatment for that anyways, but right from the beginning, we're shown that the blade is a spy organisation designed to last through millennia of war. It puts the needs of many before the needs of few: hence leaving people behind to save the mission, the intense "knowledge or death" mantra, etc. It doesn't make sense that they'd treat Keith as anything more than a new recruit because THAT'S WHAT HE IS. What he's done with Voltron doesn't matter, he still had to give the trials and he still has to work his way up throught the ranks of the blade

Secondly, he did meet his mother. And yeah, there's a boatload of trauma there, and you can argue that it wasn't necessarily a good thing, but just putting it out there

No, Keith leaving was not a selfless decision, but how selfish it was I think it up for debate. Because there was probably a mix of reasons for him wanting to leave: 1. Lance came to him worried that he might have to step down as paladin, and Keith didn't want that for him, so he removed himself, 2. (canon stated reason) him leaving solved the issue of whether he or Shiro should pilot Black (surely the clone's attitude regarding his leadership abilities wasn't helping his self-esteem either), and 3. Keith felt he would be of more use with the Blades, he felt useless and unwanted with the team now that "Shiro" was piloting Black, and Lance was in Red

He didn't actually fully leave until after Black agreed to let "Shiro" fly her, and he made the decision immediately after, so I think it's safe to assume that played a major role in his decision

Mostly I think people like the Blades so much bc they make convenient blank-slate characters to project onto without using OCs, provide a convenient excuse to add OCs, and they provide a collection of characters to create a family for Keith out of in fics and art. We also know just barely enough of most of the characters to get just slightly attached before they get killed, hence making people want to know more about them. And who doesn't love alien assassin spy ninjas?

That said, if you have your issues with them (and I definitely see where you're coming from XD), that's perfectly valid, again I just think conflicting opinions make for interesting discussions

huge rant post incoming

i never understood why the voltron fandom loved the blade so much, just bcs they were against zarkon and the witch doesn’t mean they were a good organization lmao

also stop giving keith his credit of him leaving for the blade bcs y’all thought he did that so lance doesn’t feel like he was an extra paladin too much, that man left bcs he wanted to know about his galra heritage and he didn’t have to leave completely to be doing that shit, he could’ve easily used books to research about and still remain in the team. it was a very selfish decision, not a selfless one lmao.

and at the end of the day they treated him badly in the blade, keith was a skilled flyer paladin and they barely made him do paladin shit and just treated him like a whatever thing in the blade.

all it did for keith going to the blade was made everybody involved miserable. voltron felt incomplete, nothing improved in the team and at the end keith didn’t learn shit about his galra half, only trauma and pain LMAO

anyways: FUCK THE BLADE

[tiramisiyu]

【未定事件簿】 Tears of Themis: Main Story 7-35 Translation

Translation Masterlist | Video

Chapter 7 – Rains of Monte Cristo: 7-1 / 7-3 / 7-5 / 7-7 / 7-9 / 7-11 / 7-13 / 7-15 / 7-17 / 7-19  ♦️ ♦️  7-20 / 7-22 / 7-24 / 7-26 / 7-28 / 7-30 / 7-32 / 7-34 / 7-35

Content Warning: This section contains topics that may be uncomfortable to some readers (mentions of abuse). Please proceed with discretion.

✼ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ✼

Court Hallway

After the trial ended, I did not leave immediately. Rather, I waited in the hallway for Hang Jiahe. 

Soon, she walked over, guarded by two bailiffs.

MC: Miss Hang.

Hang Jiahe: What are you doing here? Are you going to laugh at me?

Hang Jiahe: Are you happy to have beat me?

MC: You’ve misunderstood. I came to tell you something.

Hang Jiahe: What?

MC: Actually… this examination report…

I took out that last examination report again.

MC: Due to time and technical limits, we currently do not have the identification results.

MC: When I showed it in court, I just wanted to add psychological pressure onto you.

Hang Jiahe: …

Hang Jiahe froze for a few seconds, but she then responded quickly.

Hang Jiahe: You tricked me… you tricked me… hahahahahahaha!

She suddenly burst into sharp laughter.

Hang Jiahe: I didn’t lose… I didn’t lose…

Hang Jiahe: I still got my revenge!

MC: …

MC: Miss Hang, can I ask you something?

Hang Jiahe: What do you want to say?

MC: You said in court that Qi Yu tried to hold Hang Fei back “that night”.

MC: But you still murdered her out of hate for her bystander position, correct?

Hang Jiahe: Yes, I hated her for being a coward, hated her for being too scared to resist Hang Fei, hated her for looking on for so many years without lifting a finger!

Hang Jiahe: She knew during those years what Hang Fei was doing to me, so why didn’t she save me?

MC: …

Hang Jiahe: Then… did you know that Hang Fei had also been abusing Qi Yu during those years?

Hang Jiahe: I did. How could she not have been beaten, with how cowardly she was?

MC: Then do you know why she was beaten?

Hang Jiahe: Why?

MC: …

I took out my phone and opened a video featuring Qi Yu’s abuse. That small woman was lying weakly on the floor, passively enduring the man’s punches and kicks. But she kept mumbling something –

“Don’t hurt Jiahe… and those children… stop it…”

Hang Jiahe: What…

MC: Miss Hang, did Qi Yu never do anything during all those times you were abused?

MC: Are you sure that every time, she chose to be a bystander, rather than being forced into her position?

MC: Did you know that Qi Yu said those words in each of the videos she was beaten in?

Hang Jiahe: I…

Hang Jiahe froze for a second, but then she immediately reacted.

Hang Jiahe: So what, then? What do you want to say?

Hang Jiahe: That I misunderstood her? That I shouldn’t have killed her? Then does all the pain I suffered for so many years even matter?

Hang Jiahe: You want me to absolve her? To forgive her?

MC: You’ve misunderstood. That’s not what I mean.

MC: I am not you. I have not endured your suffering, so I cannot request for you to forgive anyone.

MC: I haven’t seen what happened during those years, so I cannot judge whether Qi Yu was actively or passively making her decisions.

MC: And I definitely can’t carelessly determine whether she sinned or not.

I stopped for a moment and looked at Hang Jiahe’s gloves. 

In her mind, she probably was the Count of Monte Cristo, Edmond Dantès – someone who had been wronged and could only get revenge for herself. She believed herself as intelligent and as lucky as Edmond, that she would ultimately be the winner. But…

MC: But even Edmond would figure out the situation before his revenge and repay his benefactors.

MC: I’m telling you this, only because I hope you’ll understand what sorts of people you sent away.

MC: I hope you understand that there have been people who intended to treat you kindly.

Hang Jiahe: …

MC: Also, Miss Hang, I can guess why you were not willing to ask for help from the police.

MC: In that sort of situation, you may have thought that you couldn’t rely on the outside world to go against them.

MC: But even so, me, Captain Morgan, and many, many people still have to do something.

I flipped further into the examination report.

MC: Even if Hang Fei is gone, the things he’s done will not disappear with him.

MC: This is the report we’ve created. Captain Morgan’s already sent it to upper management and applied for international cooperation.

MC: Miss Hang, we will bring you the justice you deserve for the pain you’ve experienced.

MC: As for the last few people, I promise that they will receive the punishment they deserve.

MC: So, for the rest of your life, please don’t live in hate.

MC: You’ve already stayed in the darkness for long enough. Please try to take a step forward.

MC: Doesn’t it say that in your beloved “The Count of Monte Cristo”?

MC: “He who has felt the deepest grief is best able to experience supreme happiness.”

MC: Miss Hang, if possible, please try it.

MC: Perhaps the light you’ve always been searching for isn’t too far away.

Hang Jiahe: …

Hang Jiahe: Ha… ha… hahahahaha!

Hang Jiahe broke into sudden, sharp laughter. It sounded like a heartrending sob was woven in it, as it resounded in the empty hallway, melting into the rain.

Amid the grey deluge of rain, specks of light leaked through. Maybe the downpour would finally end this time.

Not long after, Simon’s homicide case opened trial, and Wang Chunchong was deemed the murderer. Xingrui Estates declared that they would be depriving Xu Yin of her position and removing her from the family. Only Tyson received the weakest blow, as the evidence for instigation of murder was insufficient. However, lots of people online were saying that they hoped he would “succumb to the demon of illness as soon as possible”.  

Thus, the homicide case of the couple in Yaofu Community came to an end.

✼ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ✼

NXX Base

After the Hang Jiahe case concluded, the NXX investigation team met up at the base again for discussion.

MC: That’s how the Hang Jiahe case went.

Marius: Thanks for your hard work!

Artem: Thanks for your hard work. You did excellently.

Luke and Vyn nodded at me.

MC: Thanks, everyone.

MC: Enough about me – how’s everyone else’s investigation?

Artem: I’ve already updated Tyson’s case file. I haven’t found any new clues for now.

Marius: I followed what Wang Chunchong said and investigated that guy named Xiao Ren, but…

Marius: I haven’t found anything for now.

Luke: You also found out about Xiao Ren?

Marius: Huh?

Vyn: What a coincidence. I, too, found out about him.

MC: !!!

Luke: Marius, what information do you have on Xiao Ren right now?

Marius: Mainly what Wang Chunchong told me before.

Marius sighed.

Marius: According to Wang Chunchong, Xiao Ren is linked to Heirson’s raw materials purchases.

Marius: Tyson held Xiao Ren to very high regard, and keeps his occupational information on severe confidential status.

Marius: All in all, this person seems pretty mysterious.

Marius: What about you, Luke? What did you find?

Luke: The aunties in the group told me that Zhao Fei kept looking for someone called “Xiao Ren”.

Luke: I suspect that Tyson brought up this person in the recording that he sent him.

Marius: That’s possible. Wang Chunchong also heard Tyson bring up Xiao Ren, so there should be some sort of link between them.

Artem: Luke, that’s not all the information that the assistive team provided you, is it?

Luke: Yep, that’s not all.

Luke: First, the workers in Heirson where the abnormalities appeared were mostly on the production front lines, so what they touch the most are the products.

Vyn: They probably mixed in their developed illegal drugs into the products, resulting in infection.

Luke: That’s right.

Luke: Secondly, about Zhao Fei…

Luke ripped out a page from his notebook and placed it on the table.

Artem: These names are…

Luke: When I was questioning these ten people about Zhao Fei, their reactions were a bit abnormal. I suspect that…

Luke: They’re the ones hiding Zhao Fei.

MC: What about you, then, Dr. Richter? You just said that you also found out about Xiao Ren.

Vyn: I spoke with half of the 20 special respondents and noticed that it was the same doctor in charge of their examinations.

Vyn: And that person is named “Xiao Ren”.

Vyn: So I suspect that this person knows many secrets regarding Heirson’s experimental data.

MC: If so, this Xiao Ren person knows about where raw materials come from and can deal with the experimental data…

MC: If we can find him, we might be able to patch up the missing part in our evidence chain against Heirson.

Marius: So this Xiao Ren is going to be our investigative focal point from now on?

Luke: Leave it to me, then. I’m the best when it comes to finding people.

Artem: Then leave Zhao Fei to me. I just happen to have something I want to confirm with him.

Vyn: I have only met with the special patients. I will continue to meet with the remaining bunch.

Vyn: Marius, what are your plans?

Marius: Me? I plan to go see Hang Jiahe.

Marius: She wanted to find reporters in the past to drop major news about Heirson, and she’s now in jail…

Marius: We should find out what this news is.

MC: Oh yeah, I’d forgotten about that!

Marius: So, jiejie, want to come with me to see Hang Jiahe? After all, only the two of us know her the best.

MC: Uh…

I suddenly had a bad feeling.

Luke: Marius, do you really need someone to accompany you just to go see someone?

Marius: I’m not going to see a typical person, am I? I’m going to see someone who might give us an important clue.

Marius: It makes sense to be a little more cautious and bring someone else.

Luke: Then just bring your assistant. If anything else, then bring some recording equipment.

Luke: Convenient, and it can record in real time.

MC: …

Right after, Artem spoke.

Artem: Zhao Fei’s case was ours to begin with, and now that we have clues…

Artem: MC, let’s finish it off, alright?

MC: Lawyer Wing…

Vyn: I may be overstepping, but…

Vyn stepped in just before Artem could speak again.

Vyn: May I trouble you to go with me next?

Vyn: There’s a special patient that I need your assistance with.

Faced with their “eager” eyes, I was very sure that –

The investigation team seriously needs to recruit a new member!

✼ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ✼ CHAPTER 7 END  ✼ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ✼

[crab-instruments]

Dust in the Wind Part 8 (tbb)

Master <Part 7 Part 9>

Pairing: Hunter x Secret Jedi! Reader (GN)

Rating and warning: General audience, panic/stress (minimal)

Words: 1.5k

a/n: haha well we don't have time to unpack all that finale, so here's an update of this instead. Fresh off the press and yeeted to tumblr. I'm thinking the next update will have some cool stuff. I hope.

Image credit in the notes

When your eyes opened, you laid there for a bit, taking in the events of yesterday and what some sleep had done to clear the mind. You must have slept well, not even remembering the dreams you had or stirring when others got up, as only Hunter and you were left in the bunks. This was based on assumption by reaching out using the Force, at least, as you hadn’t moved an inch yet.

Being with the Batch had made it easy to settle back into your ‘old life’ or maybe just who you really were, a force user. You were becoming more comfortable, but if you were being honest with yourself, that was a scary thought. It would make leaving so much harder.

You slowly started to move, careful to keep quiet, putting your feet on the cold metal floor. The ship buzzed and hummed through your feet, accentuating the dull pain in your muscles, but the pain had an odd nostalgic feel, something you would be used to after a mission.

Echo, Crosshair, and Wrecker were all out in the main cabin as you approached, all still sleepy, though the sniper was better at hiding it.

Echo handed you a cup and you presumed he said something along the lines of ‘mornin’ but your brain was still fuzzy, not used to the amount of sleep you got. You looked at the contents of the cup; caf that had a stale smell to it and enough water to have your reflection look back at you. Still, you drank it all in one go and then turned to back to the Clone who gave it to you. “Thank you, that was the worst caf I’ve ever had, and I’ve never been more grateful for it.”

Echo chuckled; a small smirk spread across his face. “I see you slept well. Surprised to see Sarg still in bed.” You cocked your head, not sure what he was getting at.

“He is usually up first, not able to sleep when people start waking up,” Wrecker filled in.

“It might have something to do with having more people sleeping comfortably,” Tech had walked from the cockpit. “He has said that when there’s more resting heartbeats around him, he is calmer. He was worried about Maxis so possibly having them closer helped him relax.” Tech had kept his voice even when speaking, but it still felt like there was a hint of something.

“What are you—”

“I came back here to let you know we will be landing soon, and someone should wake Hunter.” He turned around before you could address what you wanted.

Echo had grabbed another cup of caf and handed it out for you to take. “Maxis, would you mind? I have a few other things to do and you’re closer.” You squinted your eyes in skepticism at the Clone for a moment, before taking the cup and walking back to the bunks, making a mental note to corner those two and figure out what they were scheming.

Once you crossed the threshold of the room, you slowed down in front of where Hunter was laying. He had fallen asleep on his stomach, his arms under his pillow, and his face turned away from the wall. No bandana in his hair, you could see how thick his locks are, almost a little envious. Really, it suited him, and he knew it. You lowered yourself to the floor, taking a moment to just study his sleeping face. So calm and handsome, in this state you couldn’t see how much the war had taken its toll on him. It was something you could get used to—

“Mesh’la, staring is impolite.” You would never… ever… admit what his sleepy morning voice did to you in that moment. His voice startled you, sloshing some caf onto the floor. He hadn’t yet opened his eyes when he addressed you, but they stared straight through you now.

Say something! “Um… sorry, I didn’t mean… We just… We’re going to be landing soon.” Smooth, about as smooth as this caf.

Hunter chuckled, amused at the effect he had on you in that moment. Slowly he sat up, swinging his legs carefully over the side of the bunk. You had stood up and took a step back to give him space but were still more or less frozen.

“Is… one of those cups for me? Or do you just really enjoy the dirt caf…”

“Oh, right.” You held out the cup, certainly not loving every second he touched your hand. Holy kriff, you needed to get a grip on your life, or you were going to lose your mind. “Uhm, I’ll just…” you looked back to the doorway but then back at him. “Wait, mesh’la?”

A look of surprise took over Hunter’s face for a hot second before a smile took its place. He shook his head, and responded, “It’s Mando’a, I’ll have to teach you some day.” He stood up and walked past you to the main cabin, obviously still avoiding giving a real answer.

“But that doesn’t… what does it mean?” Hunter had already weaved his way through the ship, leaving you wondering. Maybe I’ll ask Tech about the best way to learn a new language.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Under the ship, you checked and cleaned the landing gear. It had seen better days and probably hadn’t even been washed since the Republic. You worked meticulously, finally able to show more of what you could do now that you didn’t have the possibility of needing a quick escape. The soreness that swam through your muscles sang loudly while you focused, it was clear you needed a break.

Two shadows, one much larger than the other, closed in on the area. Omega didn’t need to crouch all that much as she approached, Wrecker waiting by the side of the ship. “Hey Maxis, you should take a break. Wrecker and I were about to go get our Mantell Mix. It’s a tradition, we get some after every mission.”

You stopped working for a moment. “I didn’t really… I wasn’t a part of the mission. But—”

“You protected the ship from four troopers, I’d say that’s enough to get some Mix.” Wrecker said, with a bit of pride.

“Ah yeah, I guess. Let me put this piece back on and we can go.”

Crawling out from the ship, you wiped the dirt of your pants. Something about Ord Mantell always stuck to you though, but that was a part of its charm. Or that’s what you say to convince yourself. You had explored the market a bit, to pick up supplies and replacements for maintenance, but never really experienced it.

As Omega led the way, you asked, “what exactly is Mantell Mix?”

“Only the best treat in the entire galaxy,” Omega looked back at you, very excited.

“Well, when you mostly have rations, anything would be a treat. Very low bar. I think I’m more concerned about the name, Mantell Mix. A mix of what? Grime and overpriced goods?”

“I think adventure and a hint of sweetness is more like it.”

You chuckled. “Always good at the positive spin, Omega. That’s a good quality.” She beamed.

Once the food was acquired, you could only eat so much of it before deciding that Omega had lied about the ‘hint of sweetness’. But you did your best to show gratitude in being included.

The three of you decided to wander around the open-air shops. You ended up looking at some unrefined gems on display. Not something you would usually stop to look at, but something about the display caught your attention. A crystal, somewhat clear but had a red hue, stuck out.

“See something you like?”

“What… is this?” You pointed to the crystal. “And where did you get it?”

“Ahh, I’m not sure. I travel and trade quite a bit, unfortunately, and don’t remember much about every piece. But if it is to your liking, you should have a closer look.” The owner had a creepy facial expression, you were unsure if they were trying to just sell the item or if they had other motives. But what other motives could they have?

You reached for the crystal but could only hold it for a second due to the extreme pain and pressure you felt from it. Another force echo. Luckily, you pushed yourself out of it quick, only getting a brief glimpse of the horrible feeling, but it stuck to you, sitting heavy on your shoulders. A reminder of the past.

It was a kyber crystal, a synthetic one specifically. This one had been used by a Sith or an apprentice of one, having such a dark and evil aura around the force echo. It made you sick and scared. Suddenly, it felt like all eyes were on you, walls closing in. Fear crept into your mind.

“I’m s-sorry, I have to-… to go.” You swiftly made your way back to the Marauder, leaving Omega and Wrecker behind. The corner you hid in after your fight with the troopers felt like the perfect fit for you at that moment. You curled up in a ball as tightly as you could and hummed to yourself.

It took a while, but everyone made their way back and Hunter was discussing about their next mission that would take place in a few rotations.

Part 9

________________________________________________________________

Notes:

Mando'a: I assume if you're reading this, you know, but here's a link anyway.

Synthetic Lightsaber/Kyber crystal: One of my favorite things I learned about lightsabers is that the Sith used synthetic crystals and synthetic crystals are normally red, leading to the Sith having mostly red lightsabers. I don't know if that's still considered canon anymore, but for me it is. Image credit

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