#because they were hurt so badly that healing now seems like a denial of that pain

[hella1975]

im so easy when it comes to immoral characters like okay do you bear your pain terribly? get behind me

[star-going-supernova]

... so, an Anon talked about a what-if Rodan was controlled by Ghidorah.

And now I'm curious, what would be Godzilla's reaction after the Battle of Boston? Just... angst and hurt-comfort for our favourite fire bird

referencing this ask/ficlet!

Rodan is not surprised, per se, when the summons reaches him. He's only surprised it took so long, and that it doesn't carry the air of an order.

He would have mistaken it as a call for a friend by a friend, but he knows his crimes. He knows it cannot be a request. This will be his trial, and very likely, his punishment.

He goes willingly.

The mountainous region where he finds his King is shrouded in mist, leaving the jagged, finally healed spines of Godzilla poking above the fog not unlike when he swims along just beneath the ocean's surface. Rodan would have laughed if his throat hadn't been closed up tight.

He lands lightly as his King raises his head. His body follows the gentle curve of the valley he is all but wedged in, and Rodan only has a moment to wonder why he chose this place before he spots the egg Godzilla is shielding. It is still small, young. Mothra has a ways to go yet.

He bows his head, half expecting to rise and receive a faceful of star-fire.

Instead, his King rumbles and asks, "Are you well, Rodan?"

He stares blankly for a heartbeat or two. "I... am well, yes."

"Your wounds healed?"

"Yes, my King."

"Your mind is your own? No side effects or lingering aches? I know well what Ghidorah was capable of."

"His control was severed during the battle," Rodan answers, quiet. Severed when Mothra stabbed him straight through, but only after the damage had been done.

Godzilla sighs, relaxes, and drops his head back into the imprint he has formed in the trees. "Good. I worried; Scylla and Methuselah both have said you have not seemed yourself these past weeks."

"I nearly killed her," he blurts his guilt out. "I am—she might have survived if I had not hurt her so badly."

His King narrows his eyes. "You were unwilling." It is not a question.

"But I still—"

"Do you know what she would say if she were here?"

Rodan swallows heavily and shakes his head.

Godzilla twists until he can nudge his snout against his Queen's egg, the most gentle a creature like him will ever be. "She would say better her, who can come back, than one for whom death is permanent. I do not blame you, my friend. As I said, I know well the tortures Ghidorah was capable of."

Rodan trembles. He shakes his head, denial and self-loathing caught in his lungs like a disease. He forces himself to meet his King's discerning eyes. He feels more exposed than when Ghidorah was in his head.

The difference between his King and the false king: only one abused such a thing.

"Come here," Godzilla finally says. He settles back in, closing his eyes. "It's chilly in these mountains, and you are warm."

When his body moves in obedience, it is not because he is being controlled against his will. He tucks himself where he fits best, one wing stretched over Godzilla's back. He is careful not to touch Mothra's egg.

His King rumbles, the deep, quiet sort that is not quite a vocalization so much as it something inside him. It, as it always has, makes Rodan relax.

"I am sorry regardless," he says after a while.

"I know," his King replies. "I am sorry too. I was not fast enough to save you."

It is this, this wild notion that Rodan had been in danger and in need of rescue, that silences the cruel voice in his head that speaks ceaselessly of his guilt. It freezes him in place, trembles through his heart, and finally, finally, some dark shadow within him begins to fade.

[somuchbetterthanthat]

Waves vaguely. I'll keep being the change I want to see in this world, or whatever. Nica&Emily, nebulous post s4 where it was Leon-in-a-weird-coma AU, I guess.

“You,” said Nica at last, unable to keep quiet anymore, “are a shitty, awful person, Emily.”

She could tell that Emily’s first instinct was to say “No, I’m not!”, because a spark of outrage passed through her eyes, her lips pursing into that childish pout she always got when someone criticized her. But instead of stomping her foot and proclaiming her denial, Emily went for her second favorite way to answer:

“So what?” she asked, voice high and vicious. “So are you! You are a two-faced, backstabbing liar who pretended to be my friend—”

“Yes, okay,” Nica cut her off, angry and exhausted. “I’m not saying I’m better than you. I’m saying you suck, and you’ve done and said horrible things and you can’t take those back and you know, I get it, okay? I know why you’ve done all this, I know what it’s like, to be all alone in the world and to be hurting badly and be so mad that nobody’s here to listen that you’ll lash out any way you can. I know. And I was lucky, because when I finally couldn’t take it anymore, I had Louisa to help me get back on the right path. I had someone.”

“Oh good for you,” hissed Emily. “I’m so glad you’ve got your happy ending—”

Nica groaned and grabbed her wrist. Emily made a high-pitched, offended noise, but she didn’t try to move away and that was —something, thought Nica. It had to be something.

“I’m willing to be that someone for you,” she said, slowly, and clearly. “I want to be that someone. But I can’t be if you won’t admit you’re an asshole who’s so empty inside she doesn’t even know why she does half the things she does anymore, okay? I thought you coming here, to my family’s home, might be a sign you were ready, but you’ve been just as awful as usual and it’d be fine if it was just me, but you’re hurting Leon and I’m not going to stand by that. He’s suffered enough because of your shitty, insane husband. I’m not going to let you do worse. So either you own up to your mistakes, right now, or you can just go spend Christmas all alone in your car for all I care, Emily.”

Emily had frozen. For once, Nica couldn’t quite read her expression — rage or genuine hurt, or maybe something else entirely? Her bottom lip trembled, her eyes fluttering as they stared at each other in terse silence, and in that brief moment something genuine seemed to pierce through the eternal mask Emily wore. A pit of sadness and terror that mirrored the one that was still healing at the bottom of Nica’s stomach, hidden so carefully under layers of condescendence, entitlement and denial that Emily herself must have barely had to confront it herself in her life before those past months. 

“Fine,” she said, spiteful and frightened. “Fine, I’m sorry. There. Are you happy?”

“Not even close,” Nica answered, and quickly added: “but that’s a start.” As Emily frowned again. “It’s not me you’ve got to apologize for though, you know.”

“I’m not going to apologize for Ethan’s actions! I barely had anything to do with it! Do I have to remind you I was the victim there as well?”

“Yes, you were,” Nica pointed out and Emily winced, as if she hadn’t actually expected Nica to agree — as if she’d hoped Nica would argue about it. “And that means you could stand to be a little bit more sensitive around Leon. You know, if anyone might understand what you’ve been through —”

“I hardly think it’s the same—”

“You’re the one who just said you were both victims—”

“He’s my husband.”

“Was.”

Emily’s lip trembled harder. “How could he?” she asked. “How could he? After all I’ve done for his stupid dreams and his stupid amusement park and, and, and —”

When the first tear came, Emily was startled into silence for a second. She glanced back up at Nica like she didn’t know what was happening, and then more tears came, and hiccups, and soon Emily was ugly-crying loudly in the middle of the Stamatis’ backyard, sobbing like she’d never done it before, and Nica was hit by the stupid thought that she’d never looked so perfect as now, with snow melting in her hair underneath Dimitri’s old hat that she’d reluctantly put on her head before they went out, her make-up ruined, her nose red, her skin blotchy and her lips bitten up.

She reached up and hugged her, pulling her close enough that she could smell her perfume and feel her gold earring against her cheek, and Emily let her, almost fell against her, hiding her face into her shoulder. 

“I don’t want to be alone,” she said. “I can’t be alone, I’ve never been alone, I can’t be alone, he can’t leave me alone, they can’t —”

“You’re not alone,” Nica whispered, her throat tight. “You don’t have to be alone, Emily. I promise.”

[sacredsorceress]

Sneak || Peter Parker

pairing: peter parker x reader

summary: when peter sneaks into your shared apartment one night with ned after getting injured you discover that he’s actually the neighborhood spider-man.

a/n: let’s say peter’s like twenty-one to twenty-two here? reblogs and replies are super appreciated!

word count: 3.3k

warnings: mentions of peter getting beat up and blood, angst maybe, fluff, swearing

masterlist || request || taglist

You weren’t supposed to be home.

Since you and Peter had moved in together two months ago, it had become increasingly difficult for Peter to keep his double life a secret. He knew that he should’ve told you earlier, but the longer he went without telling you, the worse he knew it would be when you finally found out. So he continued to keep it a secret- quietly sneaking out night after night after you had gone to bed, lying about working late, even pulling up one of the floorboards in your apartment to hide his suit- he did whatever it took to make sure that you wouldn’t find out.

It’s not that he didn’t trust you- if he didn’t he wouldn’t have taken the next step in your relationship and moved in with you- it was just that he didn’t want to worry you and- more selfishly- that he didn’t want to lose you.

Although it had been a hassle for Peter, the planned had worked... until tonight.

You weren’t supposed to be home. You were supposed to be attending some friend of your’s party. Peter didn’t bother remembering which friend, but instead that he would finally be able to sneak into your shared apartment that night without having to worry about you being awake and finding out.

However, a headache and allergy season had other plans.

Rather than partying with your friends that night, celebrating the end of the semester, you were lying on the couch in a pile of your own tissues and a warm wash cloth over your face as the television played in the background. You hadn’t bothered to text your boyfriend that you had decided not to attend the party on account of you not feeling well, instead telling yourself that he would find out when he came in the door later that evening. Slipping on your pajamas and reclining on your couch, you decided you would make the best of your night in despite the circumstances.

Peter, however, was not having nearly as relaxing of a night.

The men that he had been following for the past week and planned to encounter that night had somehow caught on to Spider-Man on their tails. Prepared to meet the masked vigilante, the group had cornered Peter in an alleyway and -as Peter recounted to Ned later that night when he came to pick him up- “got his ass kicked”.

Barely able to stand, Peter had called Ned to help him find his way home.

“Wait.” Ned said, as they stood outside the door to Peter’s apartment. “What about Y/n?”

Peter shrugged, pulling his keys out of his sweatshirt pocket that was covering the top of his Spider-Man suit.

“She’s at some party.” He told his friend, still leaning on him for support. “She um she won’t be back home until later.”

“You have to tell her soon, man.” Ned sighed, helping his friend unlock the door. “You can’t keep doing this, Peter.”

“I know, Ned.” Peter sighed. “But you know Y/n. I- I can’t tell her. She’d freak out!”

When the door finally unlocked and Peter slowly opened the door, he immediately stopped in his spot. When he peaked in the doorway and saw your favorite movie playing on the television and the lamps scattered across your living room illuminating the room he stood like a deer in headlights.

“What-” Ned began before Peter quickly clapped his hand over Ned’s mouth.

Peaking into the room again, Peter then turned to his best friend. “Y/n’s home.”

Ned’s eyes went wide as Peter pulled his hand away from his mouth. “What?” Ned whispered. “I thought you said she was going to a party?”

Peter nodded his head, worry written all over his face. “She was! I mean- that’s what I thought.” Peter said. “Shit. What- what am I going to do?”

“We could... walk... really... quietly?” Ned suggested.

Normally Peter would have argued with his friend, but you were home and that coupled with the fact that Peter could barely move on his own didn’t leave him with many options.

“Okay.” Peter sighed. “Just- be quiet and don’t step on that floorboard near the couch. It creaks a lot.”

Ned nodded and slipped his arm back under Peter’s to help him keep his balance as the two of them made their way into you and Peter’s shared apartment, slowly shutting the door behind them.

A few steps in, Peter was beginning to grow confident that they would be able to make it to your bedroom that was straight across the way without being caught- you seemed to be asleep and the television masked their quiet footsteps- that was until he heard the loud creaking sound coming from the floorboard underneath Ned’s feet.

The second he heard the loud noise, Peter snapped his neck towards Ned glaring daggers into him and Ned’s eyes grew wide, but before Peter even had the chance to say anything, you bolted up from your seat on the couch, pulling the wash cloth off of your face.

“Peter?” You asked, glancing between the pair of best friends standing behind the couch you were sat on.

You watched as Peter leaned on his friend in a black hoodie and matching sweatpants that you had never seen before. You had known your boyfriend and his best friend long enough to notice something was wrong by Peter fidgeting in his spot and Ned’s mouth dropping open while glancing at his friend.

“H- hey, Y/n.” Peter chuckled, scratching the back of his neck with his free hand. “I- I thought... what happened to the party?”

“Allergies- wait.” You said, dropping the face cloth from your hands and making your way around the couch to stand in front of your boyfriend. “Is that a black eye? Oh my God, Peter, what happened?”

“I-”

“And what are you wearing? I’ve never seen-” You asked now noticing the sweatsuit he was wearing as your eyes trailed down his body. Your voice got caught in your throat however, when you noticed the famous red footwear. That you had definitely never seen the before- at least not on him.

As soon as your eyes landed on his feet- the only exposed portion of his suit- Peter knew it was over for him. 

Your wide eyes immediately met his upon looking at his feet and as soon as they did, you reached your hand up to the zipper on the sweatshirt he was wearing.

“Y/n- wait-” He attempted to stop you, but before he could you were already unzipping the sweatshirt, unveiling the Spider-Man suit underneath.

As soon as you did you stumbled backwards, falling back onto the accent table that stood against the back of your couch.

“Peter...” You said his name slowly, the air practically knocked out of you. “What-”

“Y/n-” Peter attempted to reach his hand out for you, but when he did you shook your head, maneuvering your way around the couch to have it divide the two of you.

You could barely believe the sight in front of you. It had to be a joke, right?

When you separated yourself from him, Peter attempted to leave his friend’s arms, but when he did he stumbled, doubling over in pain. Despite the state of shock you were in and the hurt you were feeling in learning that your boyfriend had kept such a secret from you for so long, you couldn’t help yourself seeing Peter in pain.

You rushed to his side, wrapping your arm around his waist to guide him to the couch. Shoving your pile of used tissues to the side with your free hand you made a space for him to sit on the couch. You helped Peter slip the black sweatshirt off of his shoulders as he groaned in pain, but when he was finally relieved of it you could see pieces of his suit tattered and blood staining the side of it.

“Peter!” You gasped, your hand rushing to cover your mouth.

“It’s really not that bad, Y/n!” He tried to assure you, sitting up in his seat while grunting. “I- I promise. Look it’s already starting to heal-“

Running your hands over the tattered pieces of his suit revealing his bruises and wounds, all you could think about was how badly it must have hurt to receive these and that this definitely wasn’t the first time your boyfriend suffered this fate to protect others.

Looking up from your boyfriend’s torso, your eyes met a scared Ned who was still stood on the other side of the couch.

“You!” You shouted, pointing at Ned.

Following your gaze that had landed on his best friend, your boyfriend desperately tried to grab your hands and reason with you. “Y/n? Y/n, it’s not his fault-”

Swatting Peter’s hands away, you continued looking at Ned.

“No!” You told him beginning to pick used tissues off of your couch and hurl them at Ned. “You knew my boyfriend was putting himself in danger every night and you didn’t think to tell me- no- you didn’t think to stop him?”

Watching as you continued to throw tissues at his best friend and Ned continued to attempt to dodge them and swat them out of the air before they could hit him, Peter snatched your wrists in his hands, stopping you in your tirade on Ned.

“It’s not his fault, Y/n.” Peter said, tugging on your wrists to force you to look at him. “He... he told me to tell you, but I was just scared. I was too afraid to tell you at first because I wanted to keep it a secret, you know? But then it had gone so long and I was just... I was just so afraid you would- I don’t know- break up with me because I kept it a secret from you.”

Still in denial and in a heat of rage that you hadn’t entirely simmered down from yet, you pulled your wrists out of his grasps and stood up, stomped over to the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind you.

As you stood over the sink, grasping the edges, you saw yourself in the mirror and took a deep breath, finally allowing the news you had just heard to sink in.

Your boyfriend was Spider-Man. He was a superhero. He went out almost every night protecting innocent people and had not only fought to save individuals in your community, but the whole world.

And he had kept it a secret from you for the past year and a half of your relationship.

As somewhat proud and mostly shocked that you were at the knowledge that he was Spider-Man, you were even more surprised that he had been keeping such a big thing a secret from you. You had shared everything with him- even your home- but he couldn’t tell you that he was Spider-Man.

As much as you hated to admit it- you could understand why he didn’t tell you. Putting yourself in his shoes, you could see why he didn’t tell you early on and why the fear of your reaction may have withheld him for telling you later on. However, you wished he could see how you felt- that even as your relationship became more serious, he couldn’t find it within him to be honest with you.

As the thoughts continued to race through your mind, you squeezed your eyes shut, squeezing the edge of the sink.

“Y/n?” You heard Ned ask on the other side, lightly knocking on the door.

You could hear your boyfriend shouting something incoherently from his seat on the couch- no doubt in too much pain to get up.

“-What? Dude! I am!” You heard Ned yell back before sighing. “Are you... are you okay, Y/n? You know, when I first found out Peter was Spider-Man-”

Opening your eyes and groaning you opened the cabinet in front of you, pulling out alcohol, cotton swabs and your package of bandaids before swinging the door open and shoving your way past Ned.

“Thanks for trying Ned, but Peter fucked up.” You said, kneeling in front of your injured boyfriend.

You watched as both of the boys’ eyes widened and they glanced at each other from across the room.

“Are you... are you mad?” Peter asked, sucking in a breath as you dabbed a cotton swab doused in alcohol on one of his open wounds.

“Uh yeah,” You said. “I’m pretty pissed off.”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you-”

As soon as the words slipped out of his mouth, Peter knew he fucked up.

“Shit! I mean-”

It was too late and he knew it.

“So this is my fault?” You asked raising your voice, pressing the cotton swab deeper into his skin, causing him to wince. You met his eyes and you could tell he was scared shitless, eyes shot open wide and his mouth pressed into a thin line- he had never seen you so angry. “I cannot believe you have the audacity to say that to me right now. You have been lying to me our entire relationship about being a superhero! I mean, I’m just thinking about the lengths you must of gone through to keep this shit a secret when you could’ve just told me. God, Peter, where did you even hide this fucking suit?”

Suddenly Peter was very interested in staring at the pile of tissues besides him rather than meeting your eyes.

“Um...” He said. “You know that floorboard that always creaks a lot near the table? I um... I pulled it up. I keep the suit and the web fluid in there so you... so you don’t see it.”

At his confession, you pulled the now blood soaked cotton swab away from his skin and threw it as his face with so much force he didn't have time to swat it away.

“Are you kidding me?” You shouted. “Do you know how many times I’ve tripped over that thing? I swear to God when I'm done fixing you up, Peter, I’m beating the both of you up!”

“For the record,” Ned said. “this is Peter’s fault.”

“Thanks a lot, Ned.” Peter grumbled.

You shook your head, grabbing another cotton swab and using it to clean another wound.

“Ned I thought we were friends.” You told him. “Remember that time you accidentally bumped into the bookshelf and ruined Peter’s Death Star? I covered for you!”

“Wait-” Peter said. “That was you? What the heck, man?”

“... Sorry.” Ned shrugged.

Sighing you tossed the used cotton swab onto the couch and took one of the band-aids out of the box beside you, placing it over one of Peter’s cuts. Looking down at his abdomen as you did it you heard your boyfriend from above you.

“Hello kitty?” He asked. “Really, Y/n? Mr. Stark is going to make so much fun of me. Aren't there... isn’t there Star Wars ones in there?”

“Yeah,” You said, brushing off your hands and standing up from your place on the floor. “Only good boyfriends get to pick out their band-aids though.”

You made your way out of the room and into the kitchen, grabbing one of the ice packs from the freezer before making your way back over to Peter. Shoving some of the tissues out of the way that were littering your couch, you sat yourself beside him, setting the ice pack on the bruise that had formed around his eye.

“I... you know... I think I’m going to go.” You heard Ned say from behind you.

“Fine, Ned.” You sighed, waving your free hand at the man. “You’re free to go... this time.”

Without another word you watched as he quickly sped out the door, shutting it behind him. When the door clicked in the lock, you felt Peter’s hand reach to grab yours that was holding the ice pack against his face, pushing it away.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n.”

Fiddling with the ice pack in your hands, you could see how distraught Peter was.

You had always known your boyfriend to be one of the kindest, most compassionate people you had ever met- especially towards you. You knew deep down that he would never do anything purposely to hurt you or with any malicious intent. 

The Peter sitting in front of you- the one who you now discovered was Spider-Man- was the same Peter who always wished you a good morning first, who would be there to comfort you when you were sad and who would cry during every argument because he hated seeing you so upset and knowing he was the cause of it. Looking at him now, you could see the sadness in his eyes and the way tears were pooling at his eyelids.

“Peter...” You sighed.

“Look, I’m so, so sorry Y/n.” His said, his voice catching in his throat. “I didn’t- I didn’t want to hurt you, but I did anyway and I am so, so sorry. Just please... please don’t break up with me. I- I don’t know what I would do without you-”

Seeing the tears roll down his face and hearing the words slipping out of his mouth you felt heart practically break in your chest.

Reaching out for him, you cupped his face in your hands.

“No no no, Peter.” You hushed him, wiping a few stray tears away gently, making sure not to hurt his bruised cheeks. “I’m not going to break up with you, baby. I’m just... upset, you know? I know why you did it, but a part of it hurts because it feels like you don’t trust me-”

“Of course I trust you.” He said, cutting you off. “I just love you so much and I didn’t want to lose you.”

“You’re not going to lose me, Pete.” You smiled, pulling him in for a light kiss on his lips before pulling away. “Just... be honest with me from now on okay? Let me be Spider-Man’s girlfriend too.”

For the first time that night you watched as a smile formed on your boyfriend’s face. Seeing his sweet smile and the way it made him wince due to the bruise on his face- you knew you couldn’t continue to be mad at him for much longer. Although Peter had kept his superhero identity a secret from you, you knew now and that was all that mattered for the time being.

“I promise I’ll tell you the truth from now on. No more secrets.” He assured you. “I’ll even take you swinging around the city if you want!”

“Promise?” You asked.

“Promise.”

“Nice!” You laughed, cuddling into your boyfriend’s side. “I think I can get used to being Spider-Man’s girlfriend.”

A peaceful silence settled over the room as you rest your head against your boyfriend’s shoulder while the television droned on in the background, neither of you paying much attention to it.

“So you’re not mad?” Peter asked. “Because uh... you were kind of scary before. Ned’s probably afraid of you now.”

You laughed as you began to feel your eyes grow heavy, the allergy medication that you had taken an hour ago beginning to kick in as the tension settled in the room.

“Ned loves me, Peter, hush.” You chuckled. “And yeah, we’re good... as long as you fix that God damned floorboard you decided to pull up. I’m serious, Pete, I tripped on it like two times just today.”

“Okay, babe.” He laughed and when he did you could feel his shoulders rock beneath your head. “I love you.”

Closing your eyes, you smiled. “I love you too, Spider-Man.”

[kitkatopinions]

The sad thing is that Blake's most healthiest option romance wise is someone who gives her space and willing to let her go. Sun fits this description perfectly. But they went with a codependent toxic relationship partially held together by guilt in which one side is clearly submissive and the other too worried and insecure.

Yeah, tbh, the send off to Sun at the start of volume six made me think they would pick up the relationship where it left off eventually for a couple different reasons, but one of them was this reason.

I want to preface this post by saying that A. I don’t really like Bumblebee and I don’t need a reason to dislike it even though I have reason to dislike it, B. I’ve shipped BlackSun from Sun’s first introduction, and C. also I’m coming at this as someone who has been in a co-dependent relationship, so all three of those things means I’m naturally a little biased. I’m not pretending this is all a super objective, impersonal interpretation. This is just me talking honestly about my thoughts towards a ship I don’t like. Bees, I’m sorry if this shows up in your tags, Tumblr is being screwy and I’m not trying to rain on anyone else’s posts. I’m using filterables and putting this under a keep reading to try and make it easier for Bumblebee fans to not see this.

I had - when I saw season six’s opening ep - given the show mad props for writing a romance driven relationship where the partners didn’t have to stay together all the time to still care about each other and be secure. It felt like the perfect move to me to get some distance between their characters while firmly establishing that Sun had never done the things he’d done ‘to win the girl,’ and didn’t consider himself ‘letting Blake go.’ Sun not only being willing to spend this time away from Blake, but to not even need it really said, and to have his own stuff he needed to do as well... All of that felt like a healthy, independent relationship. I don’t mean to get personal on main, but I’ve been in a relationship where I felt partially responsible for my partner’s happiness and he tried to do things like keep me from my friends or guilt me into things. I ignored the red flags because our relationship was important to me, but it made me feel pretty unhappy because I was always worried that if I didn’t do the things he wanted, he would get upset and over-react, and put himself down until I built him back up, and if we didn’t spend the majority of our time together, he would start talking about feeling like I didn’t really care that much about him and how lonely he felt. This was really exhausting to me, especially since I’m an introvert.

Sun always seemed like such a good partner for Blake because he was always so self-possessed, so confident in who he was already, independent and happy and accepting of Blake’s independence. Sun was always there for Blake, but he also was the one usually pushing her towards interacting with others too, they were able to go do separate things and even go on completely different missions with confidence and without drama. For a character who had previously been in a destructive, possessive, controlling, abusive relationship, it had seemed like a scene that clearly established Blake and Sun’s relationship as one where Sun wasn’t expecting Blake to stay with him all the time, respected her goals and her independence, and had his own life and his own friends too. I had kind of just assumed that the choice to have Sun leave the group and go to Vacuo was to further their relationship. Upon rewatching the scene later now that I know that the writers were already starting to try to implement Bumbleby, I can see how the show writers might’ve been intending that scene to be an amiable goodbye where Sun confirms to Neptune that they aren’t actually an item with his ‘it was never about that.’ But I just have to shake my head, because I was giving the writers credit for something they didn’t do.

Instead, they were trying to tie off the relationship between Sun and Blake by having him leave, not cementing Blake’s independence and Sun’s encouragement of that (and they tied it off badly imo because Blake freakin’ kissed the boy lol.) And once they had Sun leave, they started setting Blake up with Yang. I want to clarify that there’s nothing wrong with the writers deciding to go with Blake x Yang, and the ship itself was not a totally baseless one. I’m personally disappointed that one of my favorite RWBY ships isn’t going to be endgame, and I personally don’t like the idea of Blake and Yang as a couple. But my problem isn’t really with the ship itself, it’s with how the show writers have chosen to write the ship in execution.

Getting past the queerbaitery nature of Bumblebee as a ship, the choices surrounding Blake and Yang seem faulty on both sides (which I also think is important to remember. I’ve seen loads of people recognizing that Bumblebee as written in the show is destructive to Blake, but I’ve seen much fewer people talk about how it’s not the best for Yang too.)

Let’s start from the fact that Blake is an abuse victim. She was previously in a relationship with Adam and talks about his destructive and violent behavior. Blake has a really hard time trusting people because of how Adam had acted. He was explosive, manipulative, and he got angry at and hurt Blake specifically for leaving him. The last thing Blake would need is a relationship where she feels personally responsible for the stability of another person. The last thing she needs is to be pressured into staying with someone. The last thing she needs is to be expected to be with that person without the option of ever working with others. The last thing she needs is to be in a relationship where she can’t be apart from someone even temporarily without that person getting anxious and insecure or without having to feel guilty and like she did something wrong.

And yet the show has her in a relationship with someone that has abandonment issues. The show has her promise to stay with Yang in a moment of huge trauma, Blake crying out a desperate denial to the accusations of the abusive ex who had made her life hell, after he tried to again separate her from anyone she loved and she was forced to kill someone she had once deeply cared about. It was also a really weird choice of the writers to have the characters respond to a question over if they’d ever thought about working with other partners with dismissive and cold behavior as if the very idea was somehow wrong (especially since Yang spent quite a bit of time pre-volume six working with Weiss and Blake spent so much of her time working with Sun.) And the writers chose to frame Blake and Yang leaving on temporary separate missions in volume eight to result in insecurity and anxiety from Yang and guilt for Blake. On top of that, Yang is a person with a strong temper and aggressive tendencies. Although she seemed to be trying to work through those problems in seasons four and five, Yang backslid and seems just as controlled by her anger and her insecurities as her volume 2 self now, who had lashed out at Blake and angrily pushed her for not listening in ‘burning the candle.’

As for Yang, she lost her mom when she was very young (Ruby was a toddler,) and her dad temporarily shut down after that. She soon found out her biological mom had left her when she was a baby and spent her whole life wondering why while her uncle spent that time flitting in and out of her life and taking on dangerous missions - the same types of missions that had killed the woman who had raised Yang for the first part of her life. Yang has deep seeded fears of being abandoned and losing her loved ones, and she also has a history of trying to take care of and support the people around her even at her own personal expense. While Yang’s more selfless moments in season five - like giving up her dream of getting answers from Raven to follow and protect Ruby even when she clearly wasn’t wholly healed from her trauma - are admirable, what Yang absolutely doesn’t need in a partner is someone who she feels like she has to protect and save and sacrifice for. What Yang absolutely doesn’t need in a partner is someone she feels like she can’t rely on to be there for her. What she doesn’t need in a partner is someone who can’t give her stability or struggles to trust her. What she doesn’t need in a partner is someone who won’t call her out when she goes a little too far. And yet the writers chose to put Yang with someone who runs on the regular, the only member of their team who thought Yang might be lying about Mercury, someone who needs time and distance when Yang clearly needs someone who is consistent and present. And then the writers made it so that Yang and Blake spend very little time with anyone else. The writers made it so that they can’t be apart without guilt and anxieties.

And you guys, Blake in seasons 6-8 feels so needy. She’s consistently in need of saving, consistently doesn’t stand for herself, seems like she needs a lot of reassurance in her relationship, she’s consistently waiting for other people to make moves, etc. Even when Blake convinces Yang to divulge top secret information to Robyn, when Ironwood confronts them about it, Blake backs up and leaves Yang to explain their actions. In the early seasons, it feels like Yang cares more about their friendship than Blake does and that she’s putting in more effort, which don’t get me wrong, makes total sense since Blake had just gotten out of an abusive relationship and Yang’s clear anger problems (and her using a laser pointer to try and force Blake to talk to her,) might’ve made Blake hesitant to get close to or open up to Yang. But while it no longer feels like Yang cares more, it still feels like Yang puts in more work. Yang is constantly reassuring, protecting, comforting, and stepping up for Blake, while Blake is so passive and acts so dependent that I personally can’t help but feel like Yang must be exhausted. Yang needs stability and reassurance too, Yang needs a partner she can talk to and rely on to be there. When the writers did write Blake as trying to comfort and take care of Yang, it was way too much and had undertones of ableism. And I know, I know they had this ‘we’re taking care of each other’ moment when they were fighting Adam, but that’s just what we were told for one scene, and not what we’ve actually seen in their relationship.

The worst thing is that it didn’t need to be that way. Bumbleby could’ve been a really good ship that built on their foundation. Blake used to be an independent, brave, strong, active character. Blake stood up for herself to Weiss, told Ozpin to his face that he needed to do more for the Faunus, used to have a great, creative fighting style, used to be this sassy girl who’d banter with Sun and with Yang and when she did start opening up to Yang, it was a great way to start evolving their characters to be a strong relationship. In V3 when Blake admitted that she had doubts about Yang due to her past experiences with Adam, but opened herself up and decided to trust Yang anyway when Yang looked her in the eyes and told her sincerely exactly what had happened... That was so great and it really showed off the dynamic the two of them were starting to adapt. CRWBY might’ve immediately separated the two, but A. Seasons four and most of season five had great set up for them to work through their problems and then continue to grow that great dynamic we started seeing in the first three seasons. And B. their respective arcs continued their growth as characters even apart from each other. While I wish that RWBY had let the two work some of this out together, the growth that we were getting did make them more suited for each other. I’ll always ship BlackSun. But Yang getting a hold on her emotions, maturing, starting to work through her abandonment issues, and displaying just what a caring, honest person she was, at the same time that Blake was working through her past and her fears, learning to let people in, strengthening her resolve, and coming into her own as a leader... Come on, those two characters could’ve easily developed a good, healthy, strong, independent relationship and I’m legitimately sad that’s not what we got, especially since we sacrificed so much of Blake’s personality to get a worse ship.

I don’t even know what to say about it, tbh. Idk what else the writers expected us to think with how they wrote things. I’ve heard before that there was probably a cut scene in volume eight that included Yang and Blake fighting (which would then justify Yang and Blake’s reactions when they reunited,) and I do believe that, but the writers chose not to include it, and that made them look worse as a couple. Just like they chose not to include a scene where Blake and Yang work through the problem of Blake having left Yang without a word of explanation at the end of Volume 3. And they didn’t include a scene where Blake explains herself and Yang realizes that maybe she was being a little shortsighted about the trauma Blake had also gone through. And they didn’t include a scene where Blake actually learned that she didn’t have to protect or take care of Yang in volume six. And they haven’t included a scene where Blake puts just as much effort into their relationship as Yang does. And they didn’t include a scene where the two make it clear that they’re fine being apart. If anything, CRWBY has established the opposite, and it isn’t enough to just say that they’re taking care of each other, when they don’t show that to be the case. 

Sun being not only willing to let Blake be with others, go her own way, and be her own person, but encouraging of that, made him a very compelling romantic prospect for her. Unfortunately I just don’t see that with Blake and Yang. Their relationship feels co-dependent, and maybe it’s just my personal experience talking and making me chafe, but I personally just don’t like it.

However, fans have been queerbaited long enough. So personal opinions aside, CRWBY give Bumblebee some confirmation you fucking cowards.

[oinkz]

bound to you

— you share an umbrella with your ex, oikawa. (gn!reader)

— angst, harassment (not by oikawa or the reader), light fluff, 3.5k words, very experimental so i apologize if it’s a bit.. messy

A dark cloud from outside the classroom window stretches across the canvas of the sky, its presence mighty and foreboding. Any minute now, it could start pouring, and that known fact is making it more and more difficult to focus on your calculus test as time lets on.

Just one more question. That’s it. And then, you can finally speed home, tend to your aching head, and take a nap, even. After the awfully long day you’ve had, you think you deserve it.

It was a cliche sort of day, not completely terrible, but it still rendered you exhausted nonetheless. You had woken late, skipped breakfast, ran into someone who was holding an iced coffee in their hand, and then strutted the school parameters in a very obviously stained uniform. (In the end, you’re just glad that the coffee wasn’t scorching hot.)

You had wanted to return home immediately after the last bell rang, but you needed to make up a test you were absent for last week. This brings you to now, in the midst of the very last question. 

With whatever wisdom and knowledge you can muster, you power through, tapping through your calculator and recalling that god-forsaken unit circle.

What even is a unit circle? You wouldn’t know, you’re merely doing enough to pass.

All you know is that one, this test wasn’t as bad as you thought it’d be (thank goodness for that) and two, you didn’t have enough time to check the weather this morning. Of course, the one day you failed to check is the day the weather gods decide to hurl you with a storm.

You had forgotten your umbrella. And once you complete this math problem, you’ll have to end your school day in the most cliche way possible - with the walking through pouring rain after a particularly hard day. You see it all the time in movies and books. 

‘Life imitates art,’ they say. And it sure does.

You don’t take long before you can input your final answer to the calculator and write it down on your paper. You even box the number in, making it nice and pretty for the teacher to read through your messy work. Maybe it’s to be generous for the sake of being generous - you know, to make your teacher’s job a little easier. Or maybe it’s to lend some good karma your way, in hopes of postponing the upcoming storm for another thirty minutes. You’re a little desperate, to say the least.

“Done?” 

Speak of the devil. Your head shoots upward to find said teacher.

You merely nod, handing her the paper.

Then, you’re on your own for the remaining minutes in school. You wish your teacher a good evening, and then wander through the empty halls to find your locker.

5pm is a quiet hour for Aoba Johsai. At this point, most students have made their way home - even the ones with extracurriculars. It was a little unsettling when you first stayed late, but you’ve grown used to it.

Long were the days when you would stay in the gym till late evening to help the boys in the volleyball club. They’re memories you wish you could look at bitterly, but you simply can’t. Because in the end of the day, you were happy. So happy.

But just because it was happy, doesn’t mean it was meant to be.

You take a sharp breath inwards, hoping to put an end to this - this reminiscing. You’ve moved on now, and you’re okay. Everything is just dandy without them. Without the supposed love of your life.

You’re taking books out of your locker when you hear it - the small roar of thunder and heavy pitter patter of pouring rain. For the tenth time today, a sigh falls from your mouth. Certainly, you’re not surprised, but it still sucks nonetheless.

You just want one good thing to happen today. One.

Now, you stand at the school entrance, a low frown weighing down the corners of your lips.

There’s no avoiding it - you have to get home somehow... but still. Mother Nature can be so, so cruel. Was it not enough that you walked around school with a dark coffee stain on your blouse?

You’re so busy moping that you don’t see the painfully familiar presence quietly making his way beside you, a subtle, yet adoring smile on his lips.

“What are you waiting for?” He wonders, staring at the sky alongside with you, eyes genuinely curious.

Your heart stops for what feels like minutes.

Because you know that voice. Everyone does, but especially you.

It’s the same voice that lulled you to sleep when insomnia was eating you away. The one you’ve heard sing far too many times thanks to those long gone karaoke nights. The one that whispered ‘I love you’s into your ear when you felt completely, and utterly alone.

That voice.

“It’s raining,” you reply bluntly, wanting to end this conversation as soon as possible. It’s not because you hate him per se - in fact, it’s quite the opposite. But you would rather not be anywhere close to him. 

“Where’s your umbrella?” He asks. It’s a simple question, but it’s so perceptive. Just like him. 

Of course he remembers how you always check the weather every morning. Of course he remembers how you had always - without fail - remembered to bring an umbrella. 

You hate the hope that swells up in your stomach. And you so badly want to hate him, too.

“I—“ You start, shakily. “It’s been a long day.” 

He hums. Whether it’s in agreement, or to say he can tell, you’re not sure.

“C’mon then.”

Dumbfounded, you’re not sure what “c’mon, then” even means. You hope he’s not implying...?

Reluctantly, you look over to him, and he’s waving an umbrella in his hand.

Oh, no. You can’t.

You shake your head rapidly. “It’s okay, really—“

“Please?” his voice is painfully quiet.

He’s practically begging for you to look him in the eye.

And who were you to resist? He’s always been difficult to say no to. 

You know that more than anyone.

So, when Oikawa makes his way outside, opens his umbrella, and gestures for you to get under...

You do, despite the pure melancholy that swallows you whole.

One year ago.

You don’t remember how it got to this point. Had you known that dating someone would have so many consequences, you would’ve been a little more careful with your feelings.

Falling for Tooru was easy, but terribly dangerous. You learnt this the hard way.

What started out with cute little love notes adorned all over your locker ended with handwritten threats telling you to.....

You can’t even think about it because it had brought tears to your eyes the first time. You’d think one insulting note about your appearance was enough, but it had worsened - even when you were trying hard to stay optimistic. Soon enough, you had to take jabs about your skills, your mannerisms, and little by little, they became daily reminders of how every single thing about you will always fall short compared to your beloved, Tooru.

“.... I can’t do this anymore,” You say, your voice barely above a breath.

Oikawa’s limbs immediately lock in place. He looks up and sees the sad look in your eyes, the way they glisten with tears. No, no, no...

“Surely, you don’t mean...?” He can’t even finish his own sentence, because the thought is too scary.

But somehow, you finish for him. Just like you’ve always finished each other’s sentences, you’ve managed to finish this one, too. Except it doesn’t make him laugh and kiss your lips in utter adoration. This time, it’s gut-wrenching.

“Yes, I want to break up, Tooru.” Your words are firm and sure, but you... you are anything but.

Tooru has to prevent this somehow, but he’s not sure how. 

How do you tell someone to stay?

When staying risks their safety?

When staying puts them in pain?

As out-of-worldly as his skills may be, Oikawa Tooru is only human. You have brought him too much joy for it just to end like this.... With some nobody who can’t keep their jealousy to themselves. And despite the pain you’re going through, he wants you to stay.

So, he brings his hands up to your cheeks, taking you in in your entirety.

“Y/n...” He pleads with his eyes, and it’s the most desperate you’ve seen him. Perhaps it’s because deep down, he knows he’s being selfish.

You swallow the lump in your throat, unable to form the right words in your mouth. Silently, you wrap your arms around his waist, so painfully slow, as if it was the last time you were going to hold him. As if to say sorry.

Sorry for what? You never did anything wrong.

He doesn’t bother to hug you back, because if he does, he’ll lose. Hugging you back will mean he’s also saying goodbye, and he’s not. He’s only just getting started with you. “We can’t...”

“We have to,” You force out, and he hates how absolutely rigid your words come out to be.

He shakes his head in denial. “No, we don’t.”

Your patience is running thin at this point. Because in truth, you tried. You always had, for him.

When the first note came, you didn’t tell him until weeks later. For months and months, you had put on a front to save his feelings and yours. At the time, pretending seemed like the best option.

But it wasn’t, because little did you know, pretending was a gateway to even more issues you had no idea was taking root in you. At this point, you’re not sure if you even know yourself anymore.

If you can’t understand yourself, does Tooru? Does he really love you, or does he just love the facade you put on?

Whatever the answer is, it doesn’t matter, because either way, you’re tired and in dire need of some healing. As terribly cruel as it may be, breaking up and focusing on yourself is truly the only way to be okay again. You may not be okay right now - if anything, the pain is excruciating - but the time will come. You have that much hope, at least.

“Yes, we do, Tooru,” you push onwards, pulling away from your embrace with a deep and sad frown tainting your features. “I love you - I really do - but I can’t keep pretending everything is okay. Those notes hurt, but that’s just the least of it... I just... need to be alone.”

“I’m sorry,” you finish with a sigh. He can’t even bring himself to ask why, because next thing he knew, you were out the door, making your way back home.

But what even was home at that point? Tooru was yours. Yet somehow, the foundation of love and passion wasn’t enough to keep it afloat.

Now.

“How are you?”

These are the first words that are spoken after ten long minutes of silence. Tooru - no, Oikawa is uncharacteristically awkward as he says them.

You’re not sure how to respond.

Had it been anyone else, you would’ve bluntly replied with a “fine”, but the question catches you off guard. When was the last time Oikawa Tooru asked you how you were?

So, so long ago.

It was never ‘how are you’ with him, but rather, ‘do you think aliens are real’ or ‘would you ever date an alien’. Or even, ‘do you know how much I love you’ or ‘what kind of house do you want to live in in the future’.

How did someone so near and dear to you become such a stranger?

You huff out a sigh, stopping your train of thought before it wanders off to somewhere it shouldn’t be.

“I’m okay,” you answer, holding back your tongue. You don’t even bother to ask ‘how are you’ back, because if you did, he’d probably answer with something so blunt and distant, you wouldn’t know how to react.

Yet, somehow, he doesn’t. Instead, he prods further, practically forcing a conversation on you. You’re not sure whether your thankful for it, or if it bothers you. No one likes an awkward silence, anyway.

“Do you still take the same way home?” He asks curiously, but his eyes are far-off, trained on the droplets of water that surround you two.

You furrow your eyebrows. What kind of question is that? “Yes. Why wouldn’t I?”

He shrugs. “I dunno. I found a shortcut one day.”

He did?

How did he just find a shortcut? Out of nowhere, too?

“I know what you’re thinking.” He sighs, but it’s not out of irritation - at least, not towards you. “But I just.... one day, I was just walking around town and at the time, I was still hung up on you.”

“... So you found a shortcut to my house while that happened?”

“Yeah, basically,” he laughs at how foolish he sounds. Why is he even saying this?

“You can’t just tell me that,” you say, a little too coldly for his liking. “We broke up.”

“You broke up with me,” he argues, and you swear, somehow, the rain gets louder. “I wanted nothing to do with it. Y’know, I would’ve heard you out if you just talked to me. We were best friends, y/n.”

“I’m sorry, okay? Is that what you want to say?” You stop in your tracks completely. “I know that at the time, I should’ve let you speak, but rationality doesn’t matter when you get daily notes telling you how ugly you are. I just needed it to end, somehow.”

Oikawa stops in his tracks, too. You’re no longer under the umbrella with him, instead you’re willingly getting soaked by the rain. From afar, this scene probably looks straight out of a drama.

He turns to face you in all your glory. Hair wet,  eyes glassy, and makeup-stained cheeks. It’s a beautiful, tragic mess.

“Did you believe anything they said about you?” He questions, so softly he’s not sure you can hear.

But you do. You always do.

“Sometimes,” you answer. It’s the first time you’ve been honest with him in a while. “Can you blame me?”

He frowns. “No, y/n.... I could never blame you, you know that?”

Did you?

To be fair, your sense of judgement back then was quite clouded. You didn’t know what to feel about yourself, and Tooru... you had just came to the conclusion that he deserved someone better. Someone who could take meaningless insults better.

You should’ve tried harder.

“I— it doesn’t matter anymore...” you reply. “It’s been a year, Tooru.”

You don’t even mean to say his first name, it just slips out naturally.

After a long pause, he sighs. 

“C’mere. You’re gonna get sick.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, walking forward into the shade of the umbrella. 

The next few minutes are a bit conflicting, to say the least. There are unspoken words hanging in the air that no one wants to say, nor think about. 

Oikawa’s grip around the umbrella is so unknowingly tight that he doesn’t even recognize the ache in his muscles. What good would it do to rekindle a fire that never really went out in the first place?

After the breakup, he never really... moved on. He watches, observes you from a distance, and when he works up the courage to approach you, you’re gone. As difficult as it was to find you again, he still notices things that give him hope.

 He notices how your gaze unknowingly lingers as he walks past the halls. How a small smile creeps up your lips when you hear that the boys’ volleyball club had won a match. 

You still care, he knows that much.

But is it worth trying to be close to you again?

“You don’t have to ever talk to me again after this if that makes you comfortable,” he tells you, his expression weirdly unreadable. “But let me just say this.”

He pauses his walking and turns to face you. His gaze on you is so intense, it practically compels you to meet his eyes. 

You don’t like where this is going. At all. Once you get too comfortable and stare too hard, you’ll fall into the same rabbit hole you got yourself into a year ago. Being in his mere presence is dangerous, and that’s why you were so adamant about avoiding him so much in the first place.

But he’s hypnotizing and so, so tempting. One second turns to five when you stare at his face.

“I miss you. Not even just in a romantic way, but you were my friend first,” he confesses, and the sincerity that follows his words shatters your heart. “I’m sorry it turned out like this.”

A lump forms in your throat but you’re too frozen in place to swallow it. Because you see him - the little freckles on his nose, the flush in his cheeks, the dreamy look in his eyes. They hold remnants of your second year in high school, when love was what it was supposed to be - exhilarating, healthy, and freeing. 

You see him on TV, hear his name in the halls, dream of tasting his lips when you’re asleep. There was never an escape even when you desperately tried to avoid him, and now that he’s right here in front of you, you actually have a chance to touch him. To kiss him.

And you want to. So, so badly. His lips look so terribly cold and lonely. 

But who were you to relieve that?

Good god, did you miss him.

“I miss you too,” you breathe out, weak in the knees at the force of his gaze. “I wish I didn’t take those notes so personally. Wish it didn’t come between us.”

He smiles. “So hard on yourself as always, y/n,” he says, a ghost of a chuckle leaving his lips. “Anyone would’ve lost their minds. I would’ve.”

“Yeah... But I should’ve told you earlier,” you argue. “Maybe then we would’ve resolved it—“

“You are not at fault for us falling apart,” He sounds confident - as if it was a truth. 

You don’t know why he keeps insisting it wasn’t your fault. It was. 

Your only argument back is, “... Was too.”

Tooru squints his eyes. Two can play this game.

“Was not.”

“Was too.”

“Was not.”

“Was too.”

“Was not.”

“Was not.”

“Was too— oh, fuck off.” Your expression fades to a glare. 

Oh, how he missed this.

“But seriously, I never ever blamed you for what happened,” he prods firmly, making sure you get the idea into your pretty little head. The idea that he doesn’t hate you - never has, never will. “I just miss us. Do you think you could ever....?”

You tilt your head to the side. “Ever... what?”

A full on blush blooms across his cheeks. “Date me... again..?”

Now, it’s your turn to chuckle. “Seriously, you still want to? After all that shit?”

“Of course I want to, are you kidding me?” Tooru quips back, not wasting a second. “I’m crazy over you, y/n.”

That’s it.

You don’t even know what comes over you for what happens next. Before you could get a hold of your senses, your lips are on his. The taste is one you’ve had on your tongue countless of times, but this time, it’s so strange, so new.

Whatever unsaid apologies you never worked the courage to tell him take the form of this - your perfect lips, and your wandering hands. You two don’t even notice how the umbrella is long gone, allowing the rain to kiss you all over. 

He’s close, so close. His chest is pressed against yours and you can practically feel his bare skin through the thin, wet fabric of his uniform. It’s so intoxicating, you could pass out, right here and right now.

How did you ever give this up?

“I love you,” he whispers after pulling away, his hands cupping your cheeks and gazing at your face in its entirety. “I love you, I love you, I love you. I’ve been wanting to kiss you for so long.”

He doesn’t stop there, though. He nuzzles his nose into yours, then kisses your forehead, then your cheeks, then plays with your hair.

You want to cry.

“You still... want me?” You ask, your voice painfully small. 

“Yeah, I still want you.” The grin on his lips don’t allow any room for question. “Do you still want me?”

“Yeah... Sadly,” you send him a cheeky smile back.

He flicks the back of your head, and soon enough, you two are kissing in the rain again.

Perhaps this is a sign that Oikawa Tooru is bound to you. He wants you endlessly, kisses like an absolute god, and unknowingly lives through all your worst days with you.

You wouldn’t mind if fate just so happened to like the look of you two together. Shitty, handwritten notes or not.

You like the look of Tooru with you, too.

[ichayalovesyou]

El Hotel De Los Secretos Ep. 12 Reaction

We now return to Julio spewing some absolutely vile but true shit about the Alarcón family at the only living member who isn’t acting freaking awful toward him. Luckily he has Andrés holding him back. Honestly neither of those boys should be going anywhere without the other, inevitably they do stupid shit or have bad things happen to them when separated, case and point? This!

Losing my mind that no matter how prickly and destructive Julio gets Andrés refuses to choose anything other than kindness, than to heal him, than to persist. “Let’s patch the wounds on your body because the wounds on your soul…” I’m gonna lose it!! Julio is throwing an absolute tantrum and all that’s doing is letting Andrés see how badly Julio needs help I can’t DO this 😭😭😭

That being said at least Andrés has the good sense to step away. Seriously tho “I bet you’re glad [Isabel and I] are more than 40 centimeters apart now!” As he pulls himself apart from Andrés is such an UGH. It could be interpreted so many goddamn ways hnnn the queer lense is strong with this one! AGH the gay it hurts!! “Let’s just go to our room, please.” Before he finally gives up and let’s Julio burn himself out? OWW! HELLO??? Is anybody else reading into this?! 👀🔥🔥🔥😫😵‍💫🏳️‍🌈

No… NO! NO!! That’s not real?!?!! That’s some actual fan fiction bullshit! What happened Andrés?? Couldn’t bear another night staring at Julio’s empty bed even though you know he’s at least physically safe and not dead in a ditch somewhere? So you went back to the kitchen, calling him an idiot and HEA in his mostly unconscious state feebly attempts to help you CARRY him back to y’all’s dorm?! Is this REAL??? Oh my god oh my GOD WHAT?! We’re just gonna cross fade to the morning somewhere else after that?! HELLO???

Ah we are back to Chef Lupe struggling to be a good single dad and trying to tell Jacinto trying to explain to his son love isn’t only suffering. Like the teen he is blames Lupe for his mom being gone (guessing she didn’t die) but Lupe still thinks highly of her so like, who knows what the deal is with Lupe’s wife??? Man, it’s in the name of the show but damn EVERYBODY has got secrets around here.

Isabel hiding from Diego in Matilde’s room as she SHOULD. Matilde is all like “you like him don’t you” and she looks her dead in the eyes and tells her “We Are Just Friends” and honestly? Good for her (even if there’s some denial there)!! Definitely not gonna lose it over the fact that Matilde says “I hope you’re right for your sake, whoever gets involved with that waiter will need an endless amount of love to face such rage” as if Andrés didn’t just ‘face such rage’ then carry Julio to bed TWO SCENES AGO! It’s really not just the onscreen chemistry that’s making this shit feel gay, it’s the frickin narrative! I love it!! 😍

“Good morning” Julio says like a kicked puppy “there’s nothing good about it, I couldn’t sleep last night because of you!” OKAY we’re just gonna leave this here. Andrés it’s okay to say “I love you I was worried about you” DAMNIT why are they like this?! I’m gonna eat my teeth about these two idiots, istg this has been THE shippiest episode since episode since they were both walking on air about being reunited in ep.8 fr fr

Oh boy, Mercedes and Felipe are finally getting in trouble with their parents about their little escapades. Now it seems that Elisa (Alfredo’s mother) is missing?? Belén is already using her new position to get a room to herself back, I assume she was sharing with Victoria up until just now after Elisa got here.

Okay not to be Like That but I KNEW IT! I knew Andrés’s whole thing had very to actually do with Belén and mostly to do with really, REALLY wanting to be a dad and not letting that baby (or Belén) to go through the same trauma he and his mother did. He’s also apparently been told his dad was a soldier and died in the war and god this kid has such a complicated relationship with masculinity.

It’s also kinda sad really because Andrés isn’t actively being like, directly sexist, but also it’s 1908. Honey, there’s more to a relationship than being physically attracted to your wife/fiancé and her being the mother of your kid. Now granted Belén isn’t really letting it be anything other than that (because she doesn’t love him either) and that’s such a ‘young kid whose never been in a relationship in their life’ mistake. You have relationships with people of both genders that are closer to what you’re looking for baby she ain’t it! This ain’t gonna fix your daddy issues!! Bitches be out here playing house…

Oh okay LUPE was eavesdropping so now I’m starting to think maybe, is he??? Does he have a thing for Ángela cuz, uhhhhhhh 👀 the way he shoos away Benjamin all protectively that was, hmmm 🤔

Elisa wants to take Sofia to an obstetrician ohhhhh BOY 😬 now Teresa and Doctor Lazaro Vicario (what a cool name, up there with Serapio Ayala) are conspiring to make sure Sofía is not removed from the Hotel at all. Teresa has offered to “keep him company” very flirtatiously among the other things she’s offering him. Listen I hate both of these people but also Evil Couples are inherently sexy and I’d totally be here for that if they’re implying what I think they are 👀

Okay okay okay so Ayala is informing Dagoberto that Julio’s tattoo is from a high security prison reserved for violent offenders who are considered enemies of the state?! Julio is a convict??? Okay okay okay LORE 🌙 (also Werewolf!Julio is so real in my brain now lmfao).

In this show we don’t say I love you we say “I don’t mind if you get me in trouble” apparently. Andrés do you understand how fully and totally Insane you and Julio are about each other I mean, like, seriously?! Y’all have known each other for less than a month and You Are Like This? Hello?? Ffs this bitches gay, good for them good for them.

Every time part of me goes “well maybe somehow and some point maybe Belén has just a tiny lil’ smidge of genuine care for Andrés in her own deeply fucked up way” but then she goes and calls Andrés a fool to Diego while flirting and making out with him as he puts her raise on the record books and then I go “Nevermind I Am Going To Fucking Kill Her 😀” my loathing for Señorita Belén Aguará García knows no fucking bounds for reasons that are much tmi but it’s FINE.

Nooooo now that’s just fucked, Melinda is kicking the shot out of poor pregnant Violeta, Jacinto saves the day thank god. I hope she didn’t kill the baby because I mean, that’s fucking awful obviously. Violeta baby I hope whatever happens you end up somewhere better than here cuz this shot is ROCK. BOTTOM. You know what, maybe I take back what I said, Jacinto’s got a good head on his shoulders, probably

Wow Victoria (Elisa’s pastel pink guard dog) will really just flirt with ANYONE huh? First Pascual, then the new desk guy, and now Natalia! I wonder what Elisa meant by “do what we agreed?” That was ominous as hell. Natalia is honestly terrible with secrets (like Andrés) and just let slip Ángela was there when Sofia fell, hopefully this doesn’t come back to bite the poor dear!

Wow! Doctor Vicario may be aligned with Teresa (which makes him fucking shady and maybe even evil in my book) but he’s surprisingly not sexist for the times! I mean he’s STILL sexist but like, comparatively (kinda like Andrés y’know)? He even calls Isabel his colleague. Although I do have to wonder if he’s doing that specifically to maneuver Isabel into trusting him so that she gives him the benefit of the doubt when he inevitably dies shady shit for Teresa later? 🤔

Yet another interlude of Felipe and Mercedes being insane and horny for each other, this time with window climbing like it’s a teen movie from the 80s! Back to Ayala getting the Lore on Julio! Ohhh okay, so he’s one of the ringleaders of the Cananea riots (looking THAT up later). He’s not only a convict but an escaped one! Ayala pls don’t go ACAB on me (I have a feeling he won’t, he’s a smart guy, not just smart but wise, and the wise hate the rich because THAT is good sense).

Jacinto is having Dr. Vicario save Violeta! Vicario is helping her without question. Hey maybe I misjudged Vicario too, if nothing else he’s willing to lie for patients but he seems to want to help people idk idk he’s interesting, there’s a lot of conflicting facts about him laced together and I am Intrigued by this cagey but nice doctor 👀

So the file on Julio Olmedo says that he wasn’t a political agitator but killed an American Ranger who was trying to control the riot he was part of! That he died before he came to the prison did Julio fake his death?? I hope that doesn’t mean he lied to Andrés about his worried mom (probably not). But also… WHAT?!

Oh right, Julio got picked to serve Diego and Isabel’s little surprise romantic dinner… AWKWARD. 😂😬 ooooof.

[biggest-stupidhead]

Hello, may I leave a slightly weird request?

I don't know if you're familiar with WandaVision? If you aren't then I don't know how to explain this to you 😂

The reader creates the snk world to forget the grief of losing Levi from her world.

If you never watched WandaVision then feel free to write your own interpretation of this prompt!!

Thank you! ♥️

Okay while I am familiar with WandaVision, I feel pretty intimidated by this request tbh lol. But I am willing to kind of put my own spin on this idea, I really like this concept though :) 

*Listened to Butterfly’s Repose by Zabawa while writing this one you know the vibes. 

Summary: You imagine what your life would have been like if Levi survived the war. 

Word Count: 1.1K

138 implied spoilers, I did not go directly off of the chapter but there are some hints towards the chapter and the events that occurred so this is your official spoiler warning. 

__

You were no stranger from grief. It had followed you throughout your life with an unholy persistence. But you’d never felt it this deeply, as you sat in front of the memorial, one fore all the fallen soldiers who had lost their lives during the rumbling, it seemed to really sink in. He was gone, never coming back. At first you had been angry at him, for throwing away the future that you could have had if he had simply lived. It has seemed surreal as you wandered around the trampled earth, searching for any sign of him, the green cape, or his mop of black hair. But there was nothing, Mikasa had to drag you away from the barren earth and back onto the boat to leave for the island. The long trip consisted of you and Mikasa sitting next to one another in silence, your shoulders brushing against one another as you both mourned in silence. You weren’t the only one to lose someone, she had lost Eren and others. It felt wrong, to leave them there, but there was little to no choice, there was no body to recover, no burial to be had. 

You lifted your head to see Reiner and Annie leaned up against the wall opposite to you, Armin was on the other side of Mikasa, his blonde head buried in his hands. You felt Falco shift next to you, his arm brushing up against yours in a silent plea for comfort. You lifted your arm and wrapped it around his shoulder, pulling him into your side. Over the past few months you and the other soldiers had accepted the young warrior under your wings, you knew that he needed the comfort as badly as you did. Falco leaned into you now, his head falling onto your shoulder, after a moment you felt a him shudder and then your shoulder was damp. You looked down and your eyes watered as you noticed his own watery eyes spilling tears onto your scorched uniform. He turned and embraced you fully, burying his face into your neck as you allowed him to weep into your chest. 

You said nothing, only rubbing soothing circles on his back as he sobbed. You had to be the grown up here. You were one of the last squad leaders of the scouting regiment. You weren’t meant to live, it should’ve been Levi, or Hange here. Not you, you weren’t special, no abilities or amazing outstanding qualities. Now you were here with all these young children, who should have never had to be involved in any of this. A tear slipped down your cheek as you stared straight ahead, jaw clenching as you tried to bite back the emotion that was threatening to spill over the edge. 

That night you laid in the flimsy cot and stared at the ceiling. You were still in shock from the events that had transpired earlier, you knew you were in denial. The way that you elected to cope, was rather childish. You rolled onto your side and closed your eyes, vividly imagining his face, awash with moonlight, features soft with sleep. You could almost smell the tea on his breath, the warmth that he always radiated, the weight of his arm over your waist. You imagined that he would pull you closer and kiss your temple. You would fall asleep in his arms like you usually do and wake up in a mess of tangled limbs and sheets. He would kiss you even though you hadn’t brushed your teeth yet and you would sigh in relief at the feeling of having him close. He would probably say: 

“Bad dream?” And you would nod and tuck your nose in the space between his neck and his shoulder. 

“The worst.” you would answer. In this perfect world there were no more race wars, no more titans, all the cadets were healthy and thriving. You could sleep in as late as you wanted, or as late as Levi would let you anyway. The two of you would live in a little house in the country, Levi would own a tea shop in the city. Hange would visit every weekend for some beer and to tell you stories about the up and coming scouting legion. Life would be blissful, maybe if you had made it there, to a world without imminent death around every corner, you could have started a family. You’d never had the pleasure of asking Levi about his thoughts on children. But you assumed that it was similar to your own views, how could you bring a baby into a world of monsters? But in your perfect world, the monsters were slain, and it was just you and Levi, in your little house on the hill. You imagined what you would look like pregnant, you had seen your mother pregnant with your younger siblings before, you figured that you would look much as she had. You pictured Levi and you in your shared room as you gave birth, Hange would probably be the one to deliver your child. They would have Levi’s hair, and his eyes too. But your complexion and nose. They would be more than perfect, ten fingers, ten toes, the whole shebang. 

You knew that Levi would be an amazing father, he would be patient and loving. You had seen it in the way that he cared for his cadets. You imagined him reading to your baby, making a face at them when he thought that you weren’t looking. Maybe you’d have another baby a year or two later? But you wouldn’t be in a rush, everything would be taken in stride, at a leisurely pace. Because you would have all the time in the world, all the time you needed to heal from the wounds you’d experienced over the years. 

You opened your eyes slowly, and reluctantly the next morning. The cot creaked underneath you as you stared at the empty space next to you. A dream, that was all it was. There was no house on a hill or tea shop. No baby that you needed to rock back to sleep, no healthy or thriving cadets. The only part of your dream that had come true was the bit about the war. That chapter was over, but at the expense of all your other aspirations. The family you never got, the house, the smiling faces of your cadets, and most of all. The end of the war cost you the love of your life. You sobbed, the realization crashing onto you, the weight of the situation crushing your chest. You pressed your face into the pillow and let out an anguished cry, the images of that perfect life slipping deep into the recesses of your mind, while images of the dead took the stage. In the end it was only a dream, a foolish one that you wished you’d never dreamt. 

__

Ochie. This one hurt me. 

[myblueeyedbuggers]

My Boys

Chapter 13

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4  Chapter 5  Chapter 6   Chapter 7  Chapter 8  Chapter 9  Chapter 10  Chapter 11  Chapter 12 Chapter 14

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader (Best Friend) Bucky Barnes X Reader

Word Count: 2063

Warnings:  Swearing, bit of violence if you looking very closely 

Summary: After being abandoned by her parents in Brooklyn in 1929, y/n makes a living for herself by working for the Црни лабуд gang until she meets two boys in a back alley and her life slowing begins to change.

Ey up my Loves, so we’re back and kicking ass! Quite literally in this Chapter, I’ve been going back over my previous chapters and I’m considering rewriting them to fit my new style. Let me know what you all think, do you prefer them as they are or would you want them to match my new style ? Anyways without further ado here's chapter 13, enjoy everyone! <3 

3rd person POV

Years have passed since that moment, time brought changes to the trio, what was once a childhood crush developed into a fierce love that neither of the pair wanted to acknowledge or admit in fear of loosing the other.

As you can imagine both Steve and Becca were ready to rip the heads off of their dumbass siblings.

6 years is a verrrry long time to put up with long looks of pining and repressed feelings, but unfortunately for the Brooklyn natives, y/n and bucky were about as stubborn as each other and refused to listen to the reasonable, sometimes frustrated, rants of their best friends. So much to the utter frustration of Steve and Becca, the two young lovebirds lived in a state of denial and attempted (the keyword being ATTEMPTED) to move on with their lives.

Naturally, someone as charming and handsome as James Barnes seemed to have a never-ending line of girls begging to be his, it had become a common occurrence for him to have a new girl on his arm each week, not that Steve or Y/n approved of his behaviour but hey Bucky can be a real big dumbass when he wants to be. Y/n did try to hide how much it bothered her, thankfully not only was Bucky a dumbass he was also completely unaware of her feelings and simply chalked it down to her being the unapproving sister, but to Steve it was a clear as day. He could see it in her face every time Bucky left to take the new girl dancing, or when she’d finish work early only to see Buck and his new girl on a romantic date in the Café opposite the dinner she worked at. The bright light behind her eyes always dimmed a little and she wouldn’t talk for hours, which for anyone that didn’t know her was enough to ring an ambulance and arrange a mental evaluation.

Now that’s not to say that Bucky was any better, the look of absolute utter rage that covered his face when another man called for Y/n was enough to make Steve and Becca completely loose it and simply laugh at his misery, neither of them felt bad because they’d been telling him for YEARS to man up and confess his feelings. Occasionally the pair did feel a slight twinge of guilt towards their brother, like the time the trio went to Y/n’s house to surprise her after work, only to see her kissing the cheek of a guy they’d never seen before, just like his other half Bucky did try to hide it, but the flash of pain that crossed his face was impossible to miss.

It’d gotten to the point where Steve wanted to lock em both in a closet til they finally admitted their feelings and put themselves out of their misery, though the fact that he had all the physical stats of a toothpick quickly nipped that idea in the bud.

Cut to today, for once it looked like it’d be a fairly normal day for everyone, boys were off doing god knows what, knowing those two it’d involve a punch up started by a small blonde idiot and finished by an even bigger idiot of a brunette. Though the same couldn’t be said about their girl, ever the more responsible one of them all Y/n had agreed to work overtime in the local dinner over on main street, meaning that she’d be the one closing the place down at 9pm.

Y/n didn’t even wanna think about what her two idiots would get up without proper adult supervision, though over the years she’d learned to expect that it would more than likely be something illegal.

Thankfully, it wasn’t something she had to worry about for the next couple of hours, though 9 times out of ten she’d be the one cleaning up the cuts and bruises only for them to come back the next day fresh wounds. As much as it did on occasion piss her off to no ends, Y/n wouldn’t want it any other way, they were and always will be her boys.

Y/N’s POV

Well, that was an absolute shit show of a day.

I mean you’d of thought that I was common knowledge not to put ya hands up a waitresses skirt, but nay some men didn’t seem to have got that memo, ever the public servant I made it my job to enlighten then with a hot cup of coffee to the crotch. How I’ve not received employee of the month is beyond me, what’s not to love ? I’m a fucking delight!

Thank god it’s home time, if I’da stayed in that place any longer something would of happened, knowing my crazy ass it’d of been something violent but in my defence….okay I don’t have a defence, but men can seriously suck ass when they wanna. All I wanna do is have a peaceful walk home, ignore the homeless guys that like to gawp at my ass and run a big old bubble bath whilst relaxing with a decent book.

Naturally, that didn’t happen.

Now, If ya spend as much time around a bunch of over aggressive monkeys that love jumping into fights as much as I do, you’ll probably get real good at recognising the sounds of a fight. And I’ve got a pretty good idea who the two dipshits are that started this pissing contest.

The sounds of shoes scuffling across the pavement were pretty much impossible to miss now, that along with the grunts and groans of a bunch of guys smacking the absolute shit outta each other tipped me off to what was happening around the corner. Everything in me screamed to carry on my merry way and let these morons sort out whatever beef they had in peace and believe me I was so close to ignoring it and walking past em, but it’s kinda hard to do that when ya hear ya best mate scream “come at me motherfuckers!”.

I couldn’t help the frustrated sigh that came outta my mouth but come on guys! This is the 5th one this week!

Very reluctantly I doubled back and went to help my idiotic boys out of whatever trouble they managed to get em selves into, and boy I’m glad that I did cause they were losing. Badly. It would seem that Steve’s request was met for them to “come at” him, cause one of em had him by the arms and was pummelling the life out of his small body, and Bucky wasn’t having any better luck either. Buck was in the same situation, but he had the pleasure of two guys restraining his arms whilst another two took turns in kicking him in the stomach, I mean I was already pissed off at what was happening to Steve but now,  I’m beyond pissed and IF I’d of taken the time to calm down for a few seconds I’da thought of a better plan than this.

“Man…I really liked these shoes”.

In my defence, I didn’t mean to throw them as hard as I did, I was hoping to distract them for a couple of seconds so I could get the jump on the guy beating the crap outta Steve, instead I hit him square in the back his head and knocked him the fuck out. Any other time I’da been wetting myself laughing, but instead it seemed like time slowed down as the assholes holding Steve up froze and made eye contact with me, even the guys on Bucky stopped to see what had happened, all four of em had a look of complete and utter disbelief when they finally saw me. Not that I really cared, all I wanted was for em to get the fuck off of my boys.

Nobody seemed to wanna say anything for the next couple of seconds, the assholes beating up Bucky and Steve were still trying to wrap their heads around what just happened, and my idiots were looking back and forth between the guy on the floor and me, not even taking the time to try escape their holds. How the hell they manage to survive all these years without me is beyond my understanding.

“Sup my dudes, my names Y/n and I’ll be kicking ya ass today”.

I think it’s safe to say that I snapped everyone out of their shocked states, cause the guys holding both Steve and Bucky dropped their asses to the ground and instead focus on me, which is pretty fair considering I did just knock their mate out with a 2-inch healed shoe.

“Do ya know what we do to girls that don’t know their place round here? Cause ya about to find out girly” why is it always the ugliest motherfuckers that try to act tough, I mean look at this guy! he’s got more stains on his shirt than he does teeth, and about as much hair as a furless cat, I’ve been more intimidated by a group of 12-year-old girls in the dinner than I have him!...teenagers are fucking scary don’t judge me.

Right back to this absolute shitshow of a ‘fight’.

Mr ‘I’m only 30 years old and I already need dentures’ swung his arm out towards me in a pathetic attempt at a punch, which massively backfired on him cause I threw that dumbass over my shoulder and ‘accidently’ knocked his last 4 teeth out.  That left me with the rest of the hounds, two of em were rushing at me the second I let go of their newly toothless friend, the one on my right missed me completely and fell over a fence, dumbass. The dude on my left though, well he didn’t miss I’ll put it that way, he fully rugby tackled me into the car behind me, knocking the wind outta me and leaving me dazed for a few seconds.

But just like the first guy, his ‘punches’ were about effective as a marshmallow. Pretty embarrassing for him really, I mean you hate to see it.

“Okay no, give me your hand I’m gonna teach you how to punch cause this is just embarrassing for you dude, first don’t put your thumb at the bottom cause ya gonna break it, second don’t just throw ya arm forward and hope it hurts, use your body weight cause ya got a lot of it and throw it into the punch.”

At that point I’d pushed him off me and the car, his form was absolutely terrible so I went ahead and corrected it for him, found out his name was Eric, which was pretty interesting, gave him a few practise shots and then let him hit me for real, and I must be a fucking amazing teacher cause that one hurt!

“Really Doll?”

Let me tell you, I’d never seen Bucky so unimpressed in my life, his face was completely deadpanned with only his eyebrows raised, Steve wasn’t too impressed either, his infamous mum glare was in full force as I sheepishly backed away from my new best friend.

“In my defence, you left me unsupervised, and Eric’s form was absolutely atrocious, wasn’t it Eric my lad ?”

“….She’s a pretty good teacher to be fair”.

“See? I’m a good teacher! Suck it Barnes!”

Bucky Knocked Eric the fuck out in response. I think you can all understand how heartbroken I was.

“What the hell Barnes?! If it weren’t for me you and Steve would be dead!” I’m pretty sure I looked as insane as I was acting, Steve was full on laughing his ass off behind Buck, I mean if I weren’t so annoyed by them both right now I’d be on the floor with him just dying of laughter. But nay, I had a bone to pick with the both of them, which I think they both realised considering they both went pale before turning around and bucking it to my house. What you need to remember is that these are fully gown men, running around a Brooklyn neighbourhood screaming bloody murder, with a much smaller y/h/c lass running right behind them brandishing a pair of heels, fully intending to murder them both.

How we’ve gone all these years without being arrested or locked in a mental asylum astounds me.

So hopefully you all enjoyed this, let me know what you all think, we’ve got about 2 more chapters left of my boys then we move onto Captain America the First Avenger!! 

lots of love

Rose xx

[yellowmagicalgirl]

Seklos and Gaylen, They Were Cagemates! Chapter 5: Cagemates

Plans are made by the boys' families. Kubritz offers a deal.

After four chapters, the boys are finally cagemates!

So, during the longer-than-planned hiatus, a movie was released. Don't worry, not only do I refuse to watch said movie, the exact events of RotT cannot happen in this universe because of things that happen in my outline for the AU.

Content/Spoiler warning: Grieving, loss of child, and suicidal ideation

AO3

FFN

The first thing Merlin had done when he felt his magic return to him was cast his senses outward to look for Hisirdoux.

Well, no, not exactly. The first thing he had done was groan in pain as his many injuries began to heal themselves. Morgana had already brought him to the brink of death twice, only healing him enough so that he would live, and she could continue to torture him. But, after groaning in pain, Merlin had cast out his senses to find his son.

There was no trace of Hisirdoux anywhere. Archie had been a clear signal, as was the Trollhunter. Nari, as distant as she was, had been a powerful beacon.

Hisirdoux’s magic was nowhere in this world. There was only one explanation for this: Merlin’s son was dead. And so, for the first time in many centuries (even whilst ignoring the ones between Killahead and now), Merlin Wylt allowed himself to cry. He did not allow himself to cry for long, of course. He couldn’t let his grief consume him. There was work to be done. An Eternal Night to reverse, a familiar to collect, a sword to repair, and a Heartstone to find.

Merlin had done two of those things, and he had tried to convince Archie to come with him. Merlin owed it to Hisirdoux to at least try to protect his familiar. But, as usual, Archie was too proud to listen to reason. He always thought he knew best on matters concerning Hisirdoux. And, in some ways, Archie had known better since he had known Hisirdoux for longer, but he was clearly in denial of the obvious.

That was a day ago. Now he was in the process of doing the fourth of those things. Merlin had to deal with a tribe of irritable trolls, all crammed into a too-small cave. The sun wouldn’t set for another hour.

Merlin felt a wave of energy pass through him.

It was like an agonized cry of distress coming from his son. It was short, and it was brief, but Merlin could feel Hisirdoux’s fear.

For the briefest of moments, Merlin almost hoped that maybe Hisirdoux was alive. Alive, scared, and in pain. Perhaps hoping that his master would come to save him, as selfish as Merlin knew the thought was.

But no. Hisirdoux was dead. This was merely an echo of his last dying moments, and Merlin must have been close enough to feel it. He wasn’t sure why Hisirdoux had died so far from Arcadia Oaks. Even if in life Hisirdoux hadn’t been the best at following instructions, that one was simple enough that he should’ve been able to follow it easily. Besides, there was no reason for Hisirdoux to abandon Archie like that. Could it have been Morgana? He had foreseen her trying to kill Hisirdoux, and clearly Merlin’s visions had been wrong since the formerly human Trollhunter was even younger than Hisirdoux should be now. But no. Morgana wouldn’t have killed Hisirdoux so far away. She would have dragged Hisirdoux to where Merlin lay gasping for breath and tortured and killed Hisirdoux in front of Merlin.

And to think she had once cared about the boy, or at least, seemed to have cared about him. Merlin wasn’t sure if he would ever know how early her betrayal started.

Merlin would never know how Hisirdoux had died, not unless he stumbled upon what was left of his son’s body. And call Merlin selfish, but he didn’t want to see it. Seeing his son’s corpse would only be useful if Merlin was planning on reanimating it. Bringing his son back was an act of dark magic, and Merlin would not partake in it no matter how desperately he wanted his son to be alive.

Merlin knew how the Trollhunter and his allies saw Merlin. A washed-up, bitter old man who had failed to do nearly anything useful. And Merlin had failed. He had failed his last two apprentices. He had failed to stop Morgana from going down her dark path, whether by guiding her better or just by annihilating the threat no matter what cost it would bring down, Merlin killing the king’s sister.

And he had failed Hisirdoux. For a millennium and a half, Merlin had not taken in another apprentice because he had always planned on returning to his apprentice. Tradition dictated that Merlin only take on a new apprentice should Hisirdoux die, become a master wizard, or should Merlin decide that Hisirdoux was too much of a nuisance to keep around and break the apprenticeship. No matter how frustrating Hisirdoux was sometimes, whether it was disturbing Merlin with his lute or trying to get out of doing his chores by wrestling with a broom, Merlin never would have abandoned Hisirdoux. He was far too attached to his son to do that, and so he had not taken an apprentice during the absence.

Perhaps it was time to change that. There was, after all, an orphan wizard nearby. One who had learned the hard way why a staff was only something a master wizard could safely wield. First off, though, he would need to see if she had any skill beside shadowmancy.

“Fair lady Claire,” Merlin said, approaching her. He kept his voice steady and even, betraying nothing of his grief. “Levitate that rock for me?”

She flinched.

“Sorry, Aja,” Stuart said. “He wasn’t anywhere in Arcadia. Or at least, I couldn’t find him.”

“It’s… it’s not your fault. Zadra and Steve couldn’t find Krel either,” Aja said. It had been a long day of searching for everyone gathered around the dining table of the Mothership. Stuart, Zadra, and Steve had scoured the town and woods for Krel, while Aja and the Blanks had been more successful in their search for the core scanner. Even the success felt weak, though. Between the crash and Krel’s sense of organization, it had taken her all day to find it. It hadn’t helped that three horvaths into searching, she had found herself wanting to walk up to Krel and lecture him on how just because he was smart it didn’t mean his organization patterns were the best ones to follow since only he could find things, but then she’d remembered he was missing and burst into tears. She probably wouldn’t give him the lecture when they found him, not until she had to look for something else he’d hidden away in a place that was only obvious to him.

“But we will find him,” Aja continued. “We have to.”

Aja didn’t even want to imagine what would happen if she didn’t find her brother. She placed the core scanner on the table. “Stuart, do you know how to make a second one of these? We only have one, but if we had more we could split up and look for Krel. Krel and Varvatos.”

“I can try,” Stuart said, “But I get the feeling that I won’t have all the parts. At best I can make a version with a very, very short range.”

“You still want to find the traitor?” Zadra asked.

“Our first priority is finding Krel, but if we find Varvatos in the process we’re not going to leave him to suffer,” Aja said. “We’ll bring him home to the Mothership. He sacrificed himself to save my parents, and I won’t let that sacrifice be in vain.”

Besides, depending on how badly hurt Varvatos was, he might be able to help search for Krel.

For all she knew, Varvatos had already found Krel and was trying to take care of him, especially if Krel had been knocked unconscious and Varvatos no idea where the Mothership was. That happened to Krel a lot, so surely it wasn’t too unreasonable to hope for.

Right?

Krel slowly began to wake up, and he realized he was laying on his side. That didn’t make sense. In his cage, it was impossible for him to lay on his side; he had to remain sitting up. He almost began to hope the past several delsons were all just some awful dream, but he was in so much pain from the cuts and the beating he had endured.

Krel opened his eyes.

He had been transferred to a larger cage, one where he could lay down. He tried to push himself onto all four of his hands and knees and gasped as moving brought more pain to him from every place the batons had struck him. He pushed himself up onto his lower pair of arms instead and saw Douxie laying barely a foot away from him in the same cage. White hair hung in front of his closed eyes. Krel frowned; Douxie’s hair had been darker before. Was that a normal thing that happened when he used his magic? Krel couldn’t be sure, but if it was then capturing Douxie and any other wizard must have been easy if there was unexplained glowing and hair lightening. Humans didn’t glow.

Douxie looked almost peaceful in his sleep, enough so that a small part of Krel was loathe to wake him up. That small part was very easy to ignore. Krel began to nudge at Douxie with one of his upper arms. Douxie groaned out something about arches.

“Please, please wake up.” Krel shoved a little more forcefully. Douxie had sounded hurt back when he had used his magic. Maybe that was normal. Maybe being a wizard was a constant sacrifice, which sounded extremely inefficient.

“What do you want?” Douxie hissed even though his throat hurt. Why were they even in the same cage, for that matter? Douxie wouldn’t have minded if it weren’t for the shoving.

“Oh, good, you’re okay.” Douxie opened an eye to find Krel looking concerned, except something white was blocking most of Douxie’s field of vision. Douxie opened his other eye and focused on the white strand of –

No.

No.

Oh, fuzzbuckets, no!

As the memories of what he had done flooded back to him, Douxie sat up straight and away from Krel’s hands. His head was swimming and he felt sick as he pinched his bangs between his fingers as he glared at the stark contrast.

His hair was white.

Of course it was white. There was a reason why wizards who chose to dye their hair did not let it go bleached for very long, according to Zoe. Dark magic attacked life forces, and that attack could make dyed hair into something eternally white. Of course, this was only if the wizard using dark magic survived.

Douxie hadn’t planned on surviving. He’d planned for himself and Krel to escape, with Douxie’s escape to be death and Krel’s escape to outside of the base.

A woman in green walked towards the cage, hands on her hips. As Krel tensed, Douxie realized she was the same one who had tased Krel. She stopped in front of the cage and gazed at the boys smugly.

“I don’t think we’ve ever been properly introduced,” she said. “I’m Colonel Kubritz, and I’m going to give you two a deal.”

“Oh, really? And what do we have to give you to let us go?” Krel asked. He didn’t trust this colonel at all, but it was worth asking.

She chuckled. “Oh, no, both of you will be spending the rest of your lives in captivity. I just have a way for you two to extend those lives: if one of you resists experimentation or an order, the other will be punished.” She turned around and began to walk away before casting a glance over her shoulder. “Oh, and keep the conversation quiet, or there will be consequences.”

“Resist as much as you can,” Douxie said in a low voice as soon as she exited the room. Krel looked towards him and saw him staring at the ground. “Don’t pay what happens to me any mind.”

“What? Didn’t you hear her say that you’ll get punished if I resist?” Krel suspected that they’d get punished anyways, but any minimization was a good thing.

“Even if I somehow get out of here, I won’t have anywhere to go. I’ve used dark magic, and it’ll be obvious to everyone.”

“Dark magic?”

“It’s dangerous, and it feeds on life forces, and only evil people use it. Evil, or desperate, like I was desperate to save you. You’re welcome, by the way. But they won’t see it as desperation.”

“Thank you,” Krel said. You don’t seem evil to me, he didn’t say. An evil person wouldn’t have saved Krel, except what did that make Varvatos? Varvatos had saved Krel over and over again, despite the danger it had posed to Varvatos. Despite the way that Varvatos betrayed the Tarrons and had led to Krel and his family being hurt over and over again.

“My familiar, my master, and my,” Douxie cut himself off, shaking his head and biting his lip. “The coven I’ve been taken in by will all outcast me at best. They might just outright kill me for being dangerous. You, though, I’m sure you have something left to live for. If you resist, you might live longer than if you don’t.”

Krel stared at Douxie for a long moment, noting the defeat in his posture. “No.”

Douxie looked at Krel. There were tears forming in his eyes. Krel found the strange urge to hug his companion, but no. The two of them were getting unwanted touches from everyone else, so why should Krel do the same to Douxie? Granted, he had already shoved Douxie, but he would be better from now on.

“No, I’m not going to let you die here,” Krel continued. “Even if everyone else casts you out, you can stay with me. My sister will come for me, and when she does, I’m going to make sure that both of us escape with her.”

Author's note: Now that Claire has officially been made more important to this fic than she was in 3Below season 2 what no I'm definitely not still salty that freakin' Kanjigar got a cameo while Claire only got mentioned in the last five minutes she probably won't show up again (though she may get mentioned).

[gameofdrarry]

Wizards Hearts Recs: 12 Grimmauld Place Setting

Wizards Hearts was a four-month-long Drarry reading fest. Players were given a playing deck of 52 tropes, and were asked to find 52 different fics to read and comment on to fill their decks. To prevent the same few fics from being read, fics were restricted to only being used for the game three times before being considered ineligible for further points. The tropes and submissions list can be found here.

Check out the masterlist of fics for this trope below the cut!

📜 Colliding By Design by Asterie Rated:  Explicit Words:  21491 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Interior Decorating, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Witch Weekly, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Auror Harry Potter, Interior Designer Draco Malfoy, Hipster Wizarding London Summary:  Draco Malfoy has used his time under house arrest to launch a promising career in interior design, and Harry Potter has inherited a magical house in desperate need of renovation. It’s an age-old story, brought to you with a little “help” from Witch Weekly Magazine. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Only Ash Remains by Saulaie, shilo1364 Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  66870 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Slow Burn, Depression, Disability, invisible disibilities, Healing, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Slash, Grimmauld Place, Malfoy Family, Malfoy Family Feels, POV Harry Potter, Community: harrydracobang, Harry/Draco Big Bang 2018 Summary:  One year after Harry defeated Voldemort at the Battle of Hogwarts, he still has no idea what to do with his life. He’s been living at No. 12 Grimmauld Place with Hermione and Ron, but they’ve spent the past few months on an extended stay in Australia to try and restore Hermione’s parents’ memories. Alone, he feels set adrift. Everyone else is focused on enjoying their summer before Hogwarts reopens (after a one year rebuilding period), but without Ron and Hermione, Harry doesn’t know if he can go back. Everything changes when the Malfoys dramatically re-enter his life, and together they learn to live again. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 keep it down by warmfoothills Rated:  Explicit Words:  13657 Tags: Living Together, Housemates, omg they were roommates etc, Grimmauld Place, switching POVs, between the boys and ginny also gets a couple of interludes because we love her!, backyard quidditch, Yoga, Masturbation, references to draco/others, including blaise, not so accidental aural voyeurism, not so accidental aural exhbitionism, Clothes Stealing, shampoo borrowing, wall sharing, rugby and denial (harry), snobbery and slobbery regarding food (draco), Massage, a long hot summer, bit of breathplay, one small linny reference, it’s porn but i make you read 10k of faffing about first, an EXCESSIVE amount of parentheses, harry’s an idiot, draco’s only slightly less of an idiot Summary:  Malfoy’s an inconsiderately loud roommate and Harry’s over it. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 almost heaven by M0stlyVoid Rated:  Explicit Words:  12432 Tags: Sentient Magical House, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Malfoy Manor, House magic, Magical Theory (Harry Potter), Wizarding Culture (Harry Potter), Sex Magic, Rituals, Happy Birthday Tacky!!, Minor Character Death Summary:  Draco’s father dies. Harry’s house has a tantrum. When it turns out the two are related, Harry has to decide how far he’s willing to go to set his home to rights. And when Malfoy ends up looking like that, Harry finds he’s willing to go a lot farther than he ever thought he would. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 I could be wrong, I could be ready by harryromper Rated:  Mature Words:  57343 Tags: Post-Hogwarts, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Second War with Voldemort, POV Alternating, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pining, Romance, Gringotts Wizarding Bank, wizarding houses, House magic, Magic, Families of Choice, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Wizarding Traditions (Harry Potter), Magical Theory, Brooklyn, Roller Coasters, Socks, Quidditch Player Ginny Weasley, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Minor Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley, Minor Hannah Abbott/Neville Longbottom, Professor Neville Longbottom, Curse Breaker Bill Weasley, Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, Godric's Hollow, Hogwarts, Grimmauld Place, H/D Erised 2018, Community: hd_erised, Lovers to Friends Summary:  At first Harry wonders if they’ve managed to destroy his vaults and are trying to tell him in the most oblique way possible. But when he turns the page he realises they’ve found a vault. A vault in the name of Lily and James Potter. The parchment trembles a little in Harry’s hand. He takes another gulp of wine. Harry Potter left Britain after the war and didn’t look back. Ten years later, when Gringotts discovers a vault containing his parents’ belongings—including their badly spell-damaged wedding rings—he’s forced to face up to friends and family who’ve grown in ways he could never imagine, a wizarding London rebuilt beyond his expectations, and the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. And if that wasn’t enough, there’s the entirely unforeseen problem of Draco Malfoy. Featuring pureblood wizarding traditions, ancestral magic, open mic nights, marriage equality, a diner in Brooklyn, and the return of Fleamont Potter. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Modern Love by tackytiger Rated:  Explicit Words:  61322 Tags: Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Slow Burn, Oblivious Harry Potter, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, idiots to lovers, Politics, Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter), Songfic, Friendship, Found Family, Mentions of Cancer, References to Illness, Chemotherapy, references to canonical child abuse, references to canonical deaths, References to Depression, Drunkenness, Sad Harry Potter, Church Services, Hymns, Atheism, Kissing in Church, Religious Discussion, Light Angst, Boxing & Fisticuffs, Minor Injuries, Blood and Injury, Gay vicar, Original Character(s), Original Character Illness, Magical Theory (Harry Potter), Scars, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Minor Draco Malfoy/ Sexy Tall Vicar, Draco Kisses Someone Briefly That's All I Promise, Magic/Muggle Relations, Jealousy, Family Drama Summary:  Harry Potter, of all people, knows that life isn’t always fair. And no one gets to be happy all of the time. But surely there’s something more—something better—than a rubbish Ministry job, and a lonely old house, and that feeling that everyone out there is doing a better job of living than Harry is. And it really doesn’t seem fair that Draco Malfoy is back in Harry’s life, all of a sudden, and even though he’s wandless, and living with Muggles, and making his mother cry with his lifestyle choices, he’s happy. So what's he doing right, that Harry isn’t? Because things don’t really change, do they? And if Harry can’t be happy, he’ll settle for a good night’s sleep, some posh antiques, and the opportunity to find out what Malfoy has been up to for all these years. And that’s what starts it all. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 In Every Universe by skeptique Rated:  Mature Words:  27179 Tags: Dubious Consent, More Detailed Warning in End Notes, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, Several Dracos Malfoy, depiction of mental health issues, Depiction of Anxiety Attacks, Brief Mentions of Drowning (in a dream), Mystery, Multiverse, Parallel Universe, Canon Content Warnings Apply, Moral and Ethical Quandaries Abound, Implied Drug Use, alcohol use, Smoking, Biracial Harry Potter, Black Hermione Granger, Minor Character Death, A Very Light Sprinkling of Smut Summary:  They sent Professor Harry Potter to search for Unspeakable Draco Malfoy. Draco has stolen a Firebird, an experimental magical device from the Department of Mysteries that lets you enter parallel universes as yourself. As Harry traverses from universe to universe, he begins to think Draco might be the one searching for him. A story about whether knowing what's possible makes it possible. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Haunt the corner of my eye by harryromper Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  23358 Tags: Post-Hogwarts, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Mystery And Angst With A Happy Ending, Auror Harry Potter, Student Draco Malfoy, Healer Luna Lovegood, Wizarding Politics (Harry Potter), Number Twelve Grimmauld Place Summary:  Harry’s life is very much on track. After a successful career as an Auror, he’s set to become the youngest ever Minister for Magic. But strange things are starting to happen at Grimmauld Place. Items he doesn’t recognise are appearing left and right, and somehow he never feels quite alone. There’s only one thing Harry knows for sure: it has something to do with Draco Malfoy. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Portrait of a Marriage by glitteringvoid Rated:  Mature Words:  130626 Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Marriage of Convenience, Marriage Proposal, Domestic Fluff, Developing Relationship, Relationship Discussions, Enemies to Friends to Something More, Lack of Communication, Self-Discovery, Self-Esteem Issues, Consent Issues, Internalized Acephobia, Ferrets, Bickering, Asexual Draco Malfoy, Touch-Averse Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter Can't Cook, Slow Burn Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy & Pansy Parkinson Friendship, Harry Potter & Ron Weasley Friendship, Minor Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson/Ron Weasley, Post-Hogwarts, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, H/D Sex Fair 2020, Dubious Consent Summary:  Harry didn't want to marry Malfoy, he really didn't, but he also does want this house and Malfoy looked so smug and well - now they are married, and the house still doesn't like him, and Malfoy only looks more smug. Draco didn't want to marry Potter, he really didn't, but he also does want this house and he never seems to be capable of escaping Potter anyway, so if he is already doomed to being married off he might as well decide for himself what he is worth, sign the papers and ignore everything wrong with that plan until physically no longer possible. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Litany by thistle_verse Rated:  Mature Words:  7170 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Pandemics, Quarantine, Isolation, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Wizard's Chess (Harry Potter), Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Touch-Starved, Drinking, Draco Malfoy in Azkaban, Ghosts, Guilt, Lists, H/D Erised 2020 Summary:  With the wizarding world on lockdown due to a magic-draining pandemic, Harry is stuck in Grimmauld Place, bored and alone—until the ghost of Draco Malfoy shows up to haunt him. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Cleaning Up The Mess by Samunderthelights Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  3469 Tags: Drarropoly: Founders Edition - A Drarry Game/Fest, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Falling In Love, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, 12 Grimmauld Place Summary:  Harry has been hiding away at 12 Grimmauld Place, trying his best to clean up the place. He has fallen into a quiet and boring routine. But when Draco shows up at his door one day, asking for his wand back, that quiet and boring routine of his is about to be broken. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The Grimmauld Christmas Curse by crimsonheadache, inspired_being, kitty_collab (kitty_fic), Ladderofyears, Vaysh Rated:  General Words:  2323 Tags: Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Christmas Tree, Christmas Decorations, Aunt Walburga (portrait), Curse Breaker Draco Malfoy, Meme Insert Summary:  "I'm telling you, Hermione, the house is out to get me." Harry poured two cups of tea and passed one across the kitchen table. "Don't be ridiculous, Harry, it is not out to get you." Or is it? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Distractions by pottergerms Rated:  Explicit Words:  2239 Tags: Grimmauld Place Summary:  Kingsley was not his friend. He was not a paperboy. And Harry Potter was definitely not the hottest thing alive. ❤️ Read on AO3

[yespleasefandomtrash]

Catradora fluff prompt: those sleepovers back at the horde that Catra told Glimmer she and Adora used to have and stay up all night whispering about... *blush* *blush* I WANNA KNOW WHAT THEY WHISPERED ABOUT

aka some good pre-relationship fluff! love it love it love it. there isn't really a particular time this is set - maybe 6 months to a year before Adora left the Horde? it's pretty much however you want to read it :)

~*~

“Ugh. Training was brutal today.” Adora collapsed backwards onto her bunk, wincing at the jolt of pain that ran through her shoulder and earning a startled “mrp!” from Catra, who was lying at the foot of the bed. “I’m gonna be sore for a week.”

Catra resettled herself before rolling her eyes at her friend’s dramatic reaction. “You’re the one who stayed for extra practice, Adora. Practice that you definitely don’t need. So really, you have no one to blame but yourself.”

Adora tried to shift from where she was lying, wincing as her left shoulder started to cramp. Maybe she’d pulled something after all, ouch. “There’s no such thing as ‘unneeded’ practice. If I have any hopes of being promoted to Force Captain, I have to prove to Hordak and Shadow Weaver that I’m capable of working harder and doing better than anyone else!”

Catra’s nose wrinkled in disgust at the mention of their… superiors. “Come on, Adora. You don’t need to prove your worth to anyone, much less them of all people.”

Adora groaned as she rolled over onto her stomach. “You’re just saying that because you’re my friend.”

Catra frowned, sitting up to observe her, her tail flicking back and forth in an almost mesmerizing fashion. “Uh… You okay?”

“Yup. Totally fine.” Adora dropped her face into her pillow, muffling her voice. “Don’t you need to be getting back to your bunk? It’s… really late.” Like, after-midnight late.

Catra snorted. “Right. Because I’m just going to leave you while you’re in denial about some injury you caused yourself.”

Adora simply grunted in response. Now that her adrenaline rush had faded and she wasn’t jumping around and dodging the virtual princesses and their not-so-virtual weaponry… ugh. She was starting to feel some of those blows.

“Plus…” Although Adora refused to remove her face from her pillow, she didn’t have to look up to imagine the way that the corners of Catra’s lips had curled up into a mischievous smirk. “I filled Kyle’s shoes with mushed up ration bars, which means I have to hide wherever you are so Rogelio doesn’t come after me.”

That revelation got Adora to lift her head. “Aw, Catra! You said we were going to do that together,” she said accusingly, though her voice did sound whinier than she would have liked. “Or did you forget that we planned to hide in the vents afterwards to wait and watch him put his shoes on?”

“Well, you were too busy practicing without me,” Catra snapped. “I’m so sorry that I didn’t feel like waiting for you, Your Highness.”

Adora didn’t miss the way her friend’s ears flattened and how her eyes dropped to the floor - she always did that when she was upset. “Catra…” She tried to keep her voice gentle as she pushed herself up into a sitting position, ignoring what felt like fire coursing through her left shoulder. “I thought you were okay with waiting until I was done training today.”

“I was!” Catra’s tail flicked faster - she was either angry, anxious, or lying. Given the context, possibly a combination of all three.

“Really? Then why’d you put ration bars in Kyle’s shoes without me?” Adora sighed, rolling her eyes. “Catra, if you would just be honest with me we could figure out -”

“Shut up! I told you I don’t care!” Catra growled. She shoved Adora away, which was certainly not an action unfamiliar to either of them, but Adora’s bruised body and newfound shoulder injury did not take kindly to the sudden forceful contact.

She was barely able to bite back a pained groan as she hit the wall behind her - regrettably left shoulder first - and the sound instead more came out a muffled squeak. Adora instinctively reached up to grab her injured shoulder, hissing slowly and muttering a curse under her breath. Okay. So she probably hadn’t pulled anything, but it was starting to feel pretty clear that she had at least bruised the bone. Her arm was still too mobile for it to have been a dislocation.

As the pain gradually dulled from the impact and the static faded from the edges of her vision, she looked up to see Catra staring at her in horror - no, at her arm - before jumping to her feet and bolting out of the room.

“No, Catra!” Adora shouted, reaching out with her uninjured arm as if she could somehow catch her friend. “Wait!”

Catra didn’t wait. She never did, even when they were little kids. But old habits died hard, and Adora knew exactly where Catra had gone to hide.

“Alright, Adora,” she muttered, trying to brace herself for the inevitable pain that standing up would bring. “You got this.”

She forced herself to get to her feet, wincing but biting her tongue, determined to remain silent and not alert anyone to what she was doing. She was definitely not going to accidentally show Shadow Weaver her injuries. That never ended well.

After walking around in circles for several minutes and doing some stretches to get her blood flowing, Adora found the pain to be considerably more bearable. Still, she’d have to avoid using her left arm for the next week so it could heal. That in itself was almost more annoying than the pain of the injury.

Adora then grabbed her pillow and her blanket from her bunk, tucking the two bags of chips that Lonnie had gotten smuggled into the Fright Zone inside the blanket to hopefully decrease the chances of them being discovered even if she herself was caught.

Catra’s typical hideouts weren’t far from Adora’s ‘room’, which she’d always teased Catra about, telling her it was a sign that her subconscious couldn’t bear to be too far away from her even when she was angry. Catra heavily denied this theory, but as she denied most things she was too embarrassed to admit, her reaction really only enforced the theory as true in Adora’s mind.

Catra was exactly where Adora had suspected she’d be - huddled behind three half-empty oil barrels and a pile of assorted scrap metal, legs pulled to her chest and body facing the wall.

“Predictable much?” Adora said, unable to keep amusement out of her voice as she ducked her head to get in before sitting down next to her friend, leaving about a foot and a half of space between them. “Were you really just going to come here and sulk until morning? At least the bunks are more comfortable than a concrete floor.” She paused. “Well, not by much, but -”

“God, don’t you ever shut up?” Catra grumbled, making a point of turning farther away from her. “I obviously came here to be alone, so get the hell away.”

Adora bit back a sigh. Catra was so easy to read. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me,” she finally said, her voice quiet. “And I know that I should have been more honest with you about how I may have overworked myself. Just a tad.”

“I told you to go away, Adora!”

“I don’t take orders from you,” Adora retorted. “Besides, I already brought everything except my mattress with me, so no, I’m not going anywhere except to sleep. Right here.”

A familiar growl rumbled in the back of Catra’s throat, and her hand flashed out like lightning as she dragged her claws down the wall in front of her. She then slowly turned around, her ears flat to her head. “You never listen to me.”

“Psh, that is not true,” Adora said with a snort as she fluffed her pillow. As much as that sad piece of fabric could be fluffed, anyways. She then placed it on the floor so she could rest her head on it later. “I just only listen to you when you have good advice, and we both know those moments are few and far between.”

Catra rolled her eyes, her ears slowly moving back upright. “I definitely remember telling you today that practicing extra would end badly, which I was right about, but you were all like ‘no, Catra, I need to impress everyone so they love me even more!’”

Adora snickered at her friend’s terrible impression. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I said. And I sounded just like that.”

“Shut up. You did!”

“Uh huh. Uh huh. Sure, no. Great job.” She then smiled at her. “But fine. You were right about that. However, I feel the need to point out that a broken clock is still right once a day.”

Catra glared at her, but all the tension in her body had dissipated, and there was no real anger in her eyes. “Hardy har har. You think you’re so funny.”

Adora grabbed the blanket she’d brought, dropping the two bags of chips onto the floor before laying the blanket over her legs. She then lifted the left corner to reveal the space still between her and Catra. “Care to join me?”

Something… soft flickered across Catra’s face, but it was soon replaced by her typical ‘I don’t care about anything’ expression. She did, however, slide under the blanket next to Adora, their backs both resting against the oil barrels that shielded them from view of anyone walking down the hall.

Adora offered her one of the bags of chips, but Catra refused, adamantly avoiding eye contact with her. Adora, long since used to her friend’s… well, that was pretty normal behavior for Catra, so she simply shrugged and opened a bag for herself, the crunch of her eating the only sound in the otherwise silent hallway.

“Do you want to steal all of Kyle’s belts tomorrow?” Catra suddenly blurted, an unmistakable blush growing on her features.

The seeming randomness of the question as well as Catra’s borderline-aggressive asking startled Adora and then prompted her to burst out laughing, which made Catra’s face turn a darker shade of red. “Oh my God. So his pants will either fall down all day or he’ll have to borrow one of Rogelio’s belts, which won’t be even close to fitting him.” She was snorting with laughter at this point, and had to wipe a stray tear from her face. “Obviously I want to do that.”

Adora could tell that Catra was trying to pretend it was no big deal that she’d agreed, but she knew her friend’s habits too well. Her ears had perked up - she was happy. “Cool. It’ll be fun.”

“It’ll be hilarious,” Adora countered, grinning. She then gave Catra a softer smile. “And I accept your apology for pranking Kyle today without me. No hard feelings.”

“I - I didn’t apologize for anything!” Catra protested, her face growing redder by the second. “I’m not sorry I pranked Kyle without you!”

“Uh huh. Sure you’re not.”

Catra glared at her, but her glare soon morphed into a mischievous smirk as she snatched a handful of chips from Adora’s bag.

“Hey!” Adora turned her body away, clutching her chips to her chest. “I offered you your own bag, and you turned it down! You don’t get to steal any of mine just because you missed your chance.”

“But I don’t want a whole bag.” Catra began eating the chips she’d stolen before grinning at her. “I just wanted a few. And yours were readily available.”

Adora sighed. Well, it wasn’t like they didn’t always end up sharing food. “Fine. But you’re ridiculous.”

“You’re one to talk, Miss ‘I wanna be Force Captain so badly I’m willing to break my arm’.”

“I didn’t break my arm. I just bruised my shoulder a little.” Catra glared at her. “Okay, a lot. But I’ll be fine in a few days!”

“Yeah, well, have fun hiding it from Shadow Weaver until then. It was nice knowing you.”

Adora winced. She was not looking forward to that.

Catra seemed to notice her expression, as she groaned and rolled her eyes dramatically. “Ugh, fine. I’ll help you hide it from her.”

Adora beamed. “Aw, really?”

Catra glared at her again. “This is not because I like you. I just don’t want to see you pouting for the next week because you think you ruined your chances of becoming Force Captain. You’re annoying when you’re sad.”

Adora was tempted to fire back a teasing comment, but a more serious question nagged at the back of her mind. “Do you think I did?” she asked quietly. “Ruined my chances, I mean.”

“Oh my God, Adora, really? Are you kidding -” Catra glanced at Adora, who tried not to flinch under her friend’s gaze. “Oh. You’re… serious.”

“It - It doesn’t matter,” Adora hastily said, embarrassed at her moment of insecurity. Ugh, she could feel her face getting red. “Forget I said anything. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Hey.” Catra’s voice was gentle, a tone unfamiliar to most who knew her. Except Adora. “You are more qualified than any other cadet here to be Force Captain, okay? A little injury that I bet you’ll shake off before the end of the week doesn’t change that.”

Adora stared at her for a moment, then felt a bashful grin breaking out across her face. “You really think so?”

Catra snorted. “Um, duh.” She then poked Adora’s nose - carefully, so as not to scratch her. “But don’t you dare tell anyone I said so. Ever. I’ve worked too hard to perfect my ‘I don’t give a shit’ persona for you to ruin it with one sentimental moment.”

Adora laughed, and she slid down some from sitting upright in order to lean her head against Catra’s shoulder. “Aw. I knew you liked me.”

“Oh, whatever,” Catra grumbled, though there was no bite to her words. “You’re only fooling yourself.”

Adora couldn’t help but sigh in contentment. “You’re my best friend. You know that, right?”

Catra stiffened, and Adora began to panic and wondered if she’d accidentally taken their emotional openness a step too far, but then she felt Catra relax. “Yeah. I know.” She hesitated, then rested her head on top of Adora’s.

For Catra, that was a huge step forward in… er, being able to connect to other people at all, really. And not wanting to ruin the moment, Adora simply smiled, pulling the blanket up closer to both of them. The blanket’s warmth combined with the dull vibrations of Catra’s quiet purring was enough to make her drowsy, and soon she found her eyelids fluttering shut. The last thing she remembered before falling asleep was the feeling of someone’s hands slipping gently into hers.

Adora smiled.

Everything was perfect.

~*~

thank you for reading!

[afropogue]

jealous jj seeing pope flirting with a guy or maybe he doesn’t know he’s even flirting but the guy is super interested

thank u for the submission! i hope this turned out well:

*

*

*

Everyone knows JJ loves to party.

Indoor parties, outdoor parties, birthday parties, kook/pogue combined parties, post-funeral parties. If it’s a party you won’t have to ask him twice to consider going. In fact, he’s usually the one who suggests the Pogues attend parties in the first place, and his presence is lively. No matter how many parties he’s attended he never gets tired of them. He sees them as an opportunity to wind down, chill with his friends in a hype public setting, dance to his hearts content, mingle with others, and he gets free access to as much beer and booze as he wants. How could he not love parties?

He usually loves parties....except for this one.

He doesn’t like it because of one guy. Yes one guy has ruined this entire party for him. And how did one guy ruin this party? Well, said guy is standing closely to Pope as they stand across the room talking.

A little too close.

They both seem deeply engaged in conversation, barely breaking eye contact. They pay no mind to the noise around them, only focused on each other. Pope occasionally laughs at something the other guy says, shoulders shaking and a prominent smile on his face every time he does so. JJ can’t hear what they’re talking about from his spot, but the guy can’t possibly be that funny.

The guy is leaning in so close to Pope as he talks, a disgustingly charming grin on his face. The guy is wearing a fitted t-shirt which highlights his very obvious built physique. JJ doesn’t recognize the guy-and frankly he could care less.

JJ feels the the tenseness weigh on his eyebrows as he glares intensely at the pair. The sight of Pope and the other guy creates a nasty twist in his stomach, and he knows it’s not the alcohol because he hasn’t even had that many drinks yet. He’s leaning against the wall across from the two of them, so he has an amazing view.

At this point he’s passed the stage of denial and has accepted that he has feelings for his best friend. He could only ignore the unmistakable fluttery feelings that arose in his chest every time he was in Pope’s presence for so long.

And even though he knows that Pope obviously doesn’t feel the same way, it doesn’t hurt any less to see him so close to someone else.

JJ’s grip on his beer bottle tightens. He wishes it wasn’t empty, so he could distract himself. But he simply can’t move, glued to his spot as he watches the random guy inch closer to Pope. His friend doesn’t seem bothered by their close contact at all, in fact he almost seems oblivious to the guy’s obvious intentions.

Of course he’d be oblivious, for someone so smart he could be clueless when it came to flirting and romance.

JJ, on the other hand, was not. He recognized the guy’s body language. He’s used it before on girls, back when he was in denial of his feelings for Pope and thought the best way to eradicate them was by flirting with random girls he had zero interest in, hoping his feelings for Pope would subside. Clearly it very much didn’t work.

He wants to just drag Pope away from the clutches of that random guy so badly but he knows he can’t. He has no right, it’s not like he’s his boyfriend or anything.

Pope suddenly looks up and makes eye contact with JJ. He smiles at him once he sees him.

JJ manages to reciprocate a smile back but it feels so forced that it probably looks more like a grimace.

He averts his eyes away from Pope’s. It will do none of them good if he continues to stare-stare at something he can’t have in the way that he wants.

He needs fresh air.

JJ spins on his heal toward the backyard, maneuvering his way through the throng of people. He’s pretty sure this house belonged to a kook because it was safe to say it’s a little extra for the living room to have so many couches.

He makes sure to grab another bottle of beer on his way out.

It’s chillier than normal outside, which is probably why most of the party guests are inside, but JJ doesn’t mind. Maybe the coldness will help numb his hurt since the alcohol is failing to do its job. He wonders if he’s drank so much that his body sobers over amounts that normal people would get tipsy over.

He leans against the wall of the house, like he was doing inside.

“JJ?”

Damn.

JJ doesn’t turn in his direction, he just takes a sip of his beer and hopes Pope leaves him alone.

He hears footsteps patter closer because of course Pope wouldn’t go away.

“JJ? Are you okay?” Pope questions, voice full of concern.

JJ still doesn’t look at him even when Pope stands in front of him. “Yeah of course I’m okay, why wouldn’t I be?”

“You looked kinda uncomfortable back in there. I followed you out here to check on you.” Pope gestures back to the house.

“Oh nah just needed fresh air.”

Pope still looks unconvinced. “Something is bothering you.” Sometimes he hates the fact that Pope knows him so well.

JJ shakes his head, eyes focused bushes and trees ahead of them. Very nice leaves, leaves are amazing, so fascinating, so green. Must be nice being a leaf, leaves don’t have to deal with unrequited feelings for their best friends. Oh to be a leaf.

“I’m fine man. Just not feeling the scene right now.”

Pope quirks a brow. “JJ Maybank not feeling a party? What a rare occurrence. Who are you and what have you done to my JJ?”

JJ laughs. If only I was your JJ.

“I’m just thinking.”

“Thinking about what?” Goddamn it why is Pope so stubborn?

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing JJ. Come on you know you can talk to me.”

“I said I’m fine Pope! Go enjoy the party, you seemed to be having fun talking to that guy-“

Pope tilts his head at him. “What do you not like him? He’s surprisingly nice for a kook.” Of course the guy is a kook, even better.

“Maybe you should go back to him. Don’t wanna keep him waiting.” JJ says curtly.

Pope looks so puzzled by his tone and JJ feels kinda bad for him. “You sound like you wouldn’t like that.”

“Why wouldn’t I like that? I’m totally fine with some random guy-even better a kook of all people-flirting with you, it doesn’t bother me, why wouldn’t I be fine with that?!” JJ rambles, not realizing how heated his voice becomes as he continues talking.

Pope just stares at him for a moment, reading his face. JJ expects him to walk away, scold him for his rude mini outburst, suggest therapy-

But he doesn’t do any of that. JJ watches as realization spread on the other boy’s features. Pope starts laughing. Now it’s JJ’s turn to be confused.

“You’re jealous!”

JJ’s face heats up. He crosses his arms petulantly. “Whatttt no I’m not.” he protests.

Pope steps closer, an amused smile on his face. “I can’t believe you’re jealous of some guy I just met.”

JJ sputters, spewing out weak defenses but the amused expression on Pope’s face dies t waver.

“But why would you be jealous? Unless....” Pope pauses, staring at the ground in thought. Then his gaze snaps to JJ as if he realizes something.

“Do you....like me?”

JJ suddenly remembers the nearly empty bottle in his hands, fiddling around with it apprehensively. “Of course I do we’re best friends!” JJ shoots him an uneasy smile that is intended to be a playful smirk but it feels tense.

Pope doesn’t walk away from discomfort, in fact he looks anything but uncomfortable. He’s just peering at him curiously, and a hint of something else he can’t make out.

They’re both silent for a moment. JJ doesn’t even realize how close Pope has gotten until soft hands are cradling his cheek. “I may be reading this wrong but...can I kiss you?” Pope asks softly.

JJ’s breath hitches. He’s shocked because why the hell does Pope suddenly want to kiss him, but he’s not dumb enough to miss out on this opportunity so all he manages is an assenting nod.

His kisses his friend back almost immediately. Pope’s lips are just as soft as he’d imagine, and he feels his insides turn into warm goo as they continue to lock lips. The beer bottle slips out of his hands, a small thud ensuing on the grass, but he doesn’t care. He wraps his arms around Pope’s waist in favor of holding the bottle. If Kie were there she’d probably chastise him for littering.

JJ probably tastes like pure alcohol, but Pope doesn’t seem to mind and continues to kiss him. Pope’s breath always smells faintly of fresh mint, and Pope is evidently sober because JJ can taste it even through the tang of beer.

They both eventually pull away, both breathless and dazed. In that moment JJ wishes oxygen wasn’t a requirement for survival because he could’ve kept kissing Pope forever.

“You’re so dense JJ. I like you.” Pope says fondly.

JJ’s face burns crimson. He’s still a little light-headed from the kiss, but he still tries to muster a pout. “Well how I supposed to know you liked me back this whole time? Especially since you looked so into that guy flirting with you.”

“He wasn’t even flirting with me!”

“Pope are you blind? He was all over you!”

“He was being friendly.”

“A little too friendly.”

Pope giggles, shaking his head. “You’re so cute when you’re jealous.”

JJ huffs. “I wasn’t even that jealous.” Pope gives him a knowing look.

“Well it doesn’t matter if he was flirting with me or not. I like you, JJ Maybank, and nothing else is going to change that.”

[souvcniir]

*   bopping  along  to  forever  by  drake  is  𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐑 𝐒𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐑  ,  the  twenty  two  year  old  cis  man  thrown  back  to  their  business  days  with  none  of  his   memories  .  voted  most  likely  to  move  out  the  country  ,  alis  was  known  for  being   resilient &   facetious ,  go  figures  you'd  always  find  them  being  threatened  to  be  kicked  off  of  the  football  team  ,  but  grew  up  to  be   audacious &  untrusting  .

what’s  happening  cuties  !   listen  ,  i  cannot  join  a  group  without  giving  the  fattest  and  biggest  warning  that  despite  being  in  the  rpc  for  a  minute  now  ,   i  still  suck  at  introductions  .  embarrassing  luv  ,  i  know  asdj  .  i’m  gi(anna)  ,  i’m  nineteen  years  old  ( a  big  old  baby   )  ,  i  go  by  she  and  her  pronouns  and  i  currently  live  on  the  east  coast  which  throws  me  in  the  est  timezone  !!!  this  is  one  out  of  two  of  my  children  that  i’ll  be  bringing  you  ,   and  um  can  i  just  say  im  obsessed  with  the  fc  pairing  i  got  going  on  for  alistair  .  aron  piper  and   giuseppe  maggio  ?   this  is  what  heaven  is   asdfgh  .    down  below  you’ll  find  a  little  about  alistair  !  and  if  you  want  to  plot  you  can  either  smash  the  heart  button  ,  send  me  a  message  ,  or  message  me  on  discord  at  𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'��� 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐛𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐲#1776  .

*   𝐎𝐍𝐄                          𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒  .

a   black   eye   in   response   of   words   of   provokement   ,   lonely   nights   concealed   by   random   bodies   ,   gold   rings   sitting   on   bruised   knuckles   ,   calloused   digits   shielding   a   bright   sun   from   bloodshot   eyes   ,   distant   chatter   drowned   out   by   loud   thoughts   ,    salty  drops   gleaming   on   tan   skin   ,   enchanting   pearly   whites   ,   thunderstorms   singing   pretty   hues   to   sleep     .

*   𝐓𝐖𝐎                          𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒 .

full   name.   alistair  aurelius  salazar  .   nickname(s).    alis  ,  ali  .   preferred   name.   alistair  .   past  age.   twenty  two  .   present  age.   thirty  two  .   date  of  birth.   november  first  .  zodiac.  scorpio  . gender.    cis  man .   pronouns.   he  and  him  .   sexuality.  pansexual  .   younger  faceclaim.   aron  piper  .   older  faceclaim.   giuseppe  maggio   .   character  inspiration.    hardin  scott  ,   niccolo  govender  rossi  ,  lip  gallagher  ,  and   bellamy  blake  .

*   𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄                          𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐒  .

(   physical  abuse  ,  slightly  detailed     )

    sorrows  and  raindrops     ,   remnants  of  a  first  breath  that  established  the  tone  of  the  upbringing  of  curly  locks  and  pearly  whites  that  never  flashed  for  too  long  .      he  was  a  prisoner  in  a  punishment  meant  for  another  .   he  was  a  prisoner  to  rage  .

   he’s  made  up  of  pleads  ,   and  sobs  that  still  haunt  his  childhood   .   neglected  of  forehead  kisses  and  bedtime  stories   ,  gifted  fists  against  previously  bruised  flesh  in  substitution  .    black  and  blue  decorating  his  body  so  frequency  that  for  a  while  he  forgot  what  he  looked  like  without  them  .   

   one  night  ,  he   held  his  broken  arm  in  his  lap  and  begged  her  to  tell  him  why  ,  why  did  she  hate  him  so  much  ?    she  never  answered  ,   didn’t  even  move  a  muscle  .   left  her  seven  year  old  child  to  pull  himself  off  of  the  floor  and  out  the  door  .  that  was  his  last  memory  of  her  .

    left  in  the  care  of  the  foster  system    and  a  year  later  was  put  into  the  custody of  a  man  who  was  suppose  to  be  his  father  .   a  politician  who  had  cared  more  about  his  image  then  his  own  blood  eight  years  earlier  .   not  an  excuse  ,  his  father  would  learn  that  with  the  help  of  guilt  eating  him  from  the  inside  out  .  did  everything  he  could  think  of  to  make  it  up  ,    not  an  easy  challenge  .  

*   𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑                         𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐓 .

walked  hand  in  hand  with  being  difficult  .      labeled  the  broken  bird  .  the  dirt  bag  .   found  traces  of  himself  in  chaos  and  so  he  became  it  .    a  smart  boy  drowning  in  a  hurt  he  had  not  fully  recovered  from  .    got  better  as  the  years  went  ,   and  twenty  two  was  his  golden  years  of  doing  his  very  best  to  not  self  destruction  .  

kept  himself  busy  ,  but  that  does  not  mean  he  kept  himself  out  of  trouble  .  a  smart  boy  who  had  the  ability  to  stumble  into  class  with  black  rims  covering  regrets  from  the  previous  night  .   cannabis  was  the  best  form  of  therapy  and  getting  blacked  out  on  weekdays  was  his  favorite  sin  .   

careless  and  impulsive  ,  everyone’s  favorite  partner  in  crime  .  bruised  knuckles  and  a  fat  lip  were  the  consequence  of  a  insolent  mouth  that  never  knew  when  to  stop  .   smiled  with  blood  dripping  from  his  mouth  and  returned  to  his  dorm  with  bruised  knuckles  ,  now  he  remembered  what  he  looked  like  .    

charming  words  and  wandering  hands  might’ve  fooled  you  ,  but  commitment  for  him  was  unreachable  .   he  was  stuck  in  the  mindset  that  he  was  too  fucked  up  for  someone  to  love  him  and  it  showed  in  every  relationship  he  had  ever  had  .   he  was  the  heartbreaker  ,  or  more  so  the  cold  hearted  .  used  others  to  silence  the  demons  in  his  head  and  left  before  the  sun  crept  through  curtains  .  

*   𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄                         𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓  .

ten  years  formed  a  new  label  ,  the  phoenix  .   the  businessman  .    moved  around  until  he  settled  in   san  francisco  where  he  soon  opened  up  a  bar  with  his  business  partner  .   successful  ,  finally  funded  his  own  life  with  money  that  he  earned  .  but  there  was  more  to  him  then  just  expensive  cars  and  days  being  referred  to  as  boss  . 

healed  in  more  ways  then  he  had  been  ten  years  ago  ,  thanks  to  the  help  of  actual  therapy  (  though  cannabis   was  still  a  friend  )   .   greatest  achievement  was  finding  forgiveness  in  his  heart  for  his  father  and  building  a  normal  son  -  father  relationship  .    

decided  early  he  didn’t  want  kids  and  instead  adopted  a  pitbull  named  kyson  .   his  best  friend  and  as  those  around  him  joke  ,  his  son  .   is  his  background  a  picture  of  him  and  his  dog  ,  yes  .  mind  your  business  .

now  a  known  playboy  ,  though  most  aren’t  surprised  .  says  he’s  too  busy  for  relationships  but  it’s  just  the  fact  that  some  things  never  change  and  commitment  was  still  a  scary  thing  .  

recently  ,  as  in  the  last  three  years  ,  moved  to  riccione  ,  where  he  opened  up  his  fourth  bar  .   lives  in  a  house  on  the  beach  and  only  returns  home  every  few  months  (  plus  the  holidays  )  .  has  become  a  big  beach  bum  ,  but  he  likes  the  environment  .  does  the  whole  beach  life  activities  too  ,  the  hiking  and  the  surfing  (  though  he’s  not  very  good  )   .  

no  longer  a  fighter  ,  and  instead  is  the  one  breaking  them  up  .   realized  there  was  one  thing  he  never  wanted  to  be  ,  his  mother  ,  and  so  he’d  never  resort  to  using  his  fist  unless  in  the  act  of  defense  and  even  then  he’s  had  a  good  job  of  walking  away  .  

*   𝐒𝐈𝐗                         𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐓  𝐈𝐍  𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓   .

back  to  square  one  .  no  memories  of  who  he  grew  up  to  be  ,  just  the  old  feeling  of  anger  and  hurt  .   sad  to  see  his  process  thrown  out  the  window  ,  his  healing  cracked  open  .  the  biggest  question  ,  is  will  he  get  to  his  end  point  once  again  or  will  a  second  chance  be  his  downfall  ?

*   𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍                          𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐒  .

has  always  taken  very  good  care  of  himself  in  the  sense  of   what  he  puts  into  his  body  ,  even  in  college  he  paid  important  attention  to  diet  and  exercise  .  

doesn’t  speak  of  his  mother  ,  or  at  least  he  didn’t  .  you  asked  a  question  and  got  silence  in  return  .  most  never  actually  knew  what  the  first  seven  years  of  his  life  was  ,  which  left  many  in  shock  when  he  finally  decided  to  open  up  about  it  .

he  doesn’t  like  nicknames  and  prefers  to  be  called  just  alistair  ,  though  some  people  do  get  a  pass  ,  even  if  that  pass  comes  with  a  hard  look  .

his  drink  of  choice  is  bourbon  but  he  hasn’t  been  a  bigger  drinker  since  his  college  days  ...  his  friends  would  joke  it’s  because  he  overdid  it  too  many  times  in  his  younger  years  . 

*  𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓                          𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒  .

*   these  are  simply  just  ideas  to  give  us  something  to  start  with  ,  i  am  open  to  anything  that  is  not  mentioned  as  well  am  completely  and  totally  okay  with  switching  things  around  and  adding  things  to  these  ideas !!!  i  love  plotting  and  bouncing ideas  off  of  each  other  so  don’t  be  afraid  to  stray !

                    YOU’RE  BAD  FOR  MY  HEALTH  ,  YEAH  YOU  SHOULD  HURT  SOMEBODY  ELSE  (  PAST  CONNECTION  ┋  OPEN    )  .    he  was  bad  for  their  health    ,   a  rollercoaster  that  consisted  of  too  many  downs  .  toxic  ?  yes  .  in  love  ?  in  denial  .  but  whatever  was  between  these  two  ,  it  kept  them  at  each  others  throats  and  in  each  other  bed  .   this  was  not  the  one  who  got  away  ,  it  was  the  one  he  needed  to  stay  away  from  . 

                   WILL  HE  ALWAYS  BE  MINE  ?   ( PRESENT  CONNECTION  ┋  OPEN   ) .    his  first  adult  relationship  ,  and  like  alistair  himself  it  was  not  always  easy  .  long  nights  ,  busy  days  ,  sometimes  this  relationship  felt  like  it  was  set  up  to  fail  ..  and  then  they  got  their  moments  where  butterflies  flapped  their  wings  and  rose  spreaded  to  cheeks  and  it  really  seemed  like  it  would  work  ...  but   good  moments  ,  they  come  and  go  and  this  relationship  leaves  the  other  thinking  how  long  they  might  have  alistair  . 

                  I  GOT  A  BAD  IDEA  ( PAST  CONNECTION  ┋  OPEN   ) .    he  looked  to  his  left  and  saw  them  ,  and  when  he   looked  in  front  of  him  he  saw  the  bars  and  regrets  forming  .   these  two  were  a  duo  that  wreaked  havoc   ,  being  around  them  meant  cop  sirens  and  bad  decisions  .  these  two  were  ,  what  do  they  say  ?  young  and  dumb  .

                  WHOLE  SQUAD  MOBBIN  EVEN  THOUGH  WE  ONLY  SIX  DEEP  ( PAST  CONNECTION  ┋  OPEN   ) .    his  best  buddies  (  that  i  manage  are  still  apart  of  his  life  in  present  time  )  made  up  of  two  to  three  others  .  they  are  his  people  ,  his  picked  family  .   

                I  SWEAR  IF  I  EVER  LEFT  YOU  IN  THE  COLD  ,  IT’S  CAUSE  IT  WAS  COLDER  INSIDE   (  PRESENT  CONNECTION  ┋  OPEN   )  .   a  old  friend  who’s  no  longer  that  ,  a  friend  .  i  picture  this  to  be  more  complicated  then  what  it  seems  ,  but  picture  these  two  going  from  being  attached  at  the  hip  to  not  speaking  to  one  another  .

                  CAN  YOU  IMAGINE  ?   ( PAST  CONNECTION  ┋  OPEN   ) .    that  one  person  who  badly  wanted  something  more  from  alistair  and  got  exactly  the  opposite  .   lovers  in  the  way  of  intimacy  but  one  sided  emotionally  .  

[sablelab]

Covert Operations - Chapter 121

SYNOPSIS: Jamie is worried about Claire and Fergus enables him to visit her without detection from Madeline and Operations’ ever watchful eye of surveillance cameras.

Chapter 120 and all other chapters can be found at … https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations

My appreciative THANKS for reading, blogging and liking my story.  I hope that you enjoy the next few chapters that are Jamie and Claire centred.

  CHAPTER 121 What Jamie had previously imagined in his mind's eye about Claire had uncannily proved to be very close to the truth. He watched the slow rise and fall of her chest as she slept; her breathing was steady but to his ears it was still a little shallow. Walking around the bed, he leisurely trailed his hand along the starched white sheet covering Claire’s body. As he gazed down at her, the temptation of being so close to his love after not seeing or touching her for several days suddenly became too much. He longed to take away the hurt and pain and unable to stop himself, Jamie tenderly slid his fingers across her temple and down the side of Claire’s features re-familiarizing himself with her contours. When he traced the welts on her bruised face, he could feel the blood throbbing just below the surface.  His fingers lingered ever so gently over the black and blue reminders of what she had suffered. Jamie felt a slight tear moisten his eyes and he drew back his hand a little.  He knew her welts would heal in time but seeing how the bruises had intensified caught him unprepared for how he would react. He never wanted to see her suffer like this ever again.

“Oh, God, mo nighean donn,” he whispered softly. “Oh, Christ, yer lovely face.”

Jamie’s mouth tightened a little as his gaze moved slowly over her injured features, taking inventory. His eyes were soft and dark but the corners were tight with pain. He ached to kiss her better … to swathe her face with healing kisses that would erase the horrendous memories of the mission. His gaze caressed Claire’s face from her eyes closed in repose to the eyelashes that fluttered like butterfly wings and then across her cheeks until his eyes rested on her parted lips. His gaze triggered his heart to skip a beat until he could feel and hear his blood begin pumping away and pulsing in his veins. Every time he looked at his Sassenach, he felt another burst of love for this woman consume him.  Desire gripped him and he capitulated. Bending his head, Jamie pressed his mouth tenderly to hers. Claire’s lips yielded a little under the pressure of his kiss, but he had to pull away before he surrendered completely … before he was totally lost to the overwhelming urge to gather his love up into his arms.  Breaking the kiss, Jamie moved his lips to her ear whispering her name like a prayer as they softly brushed the outline of her ear. 

“The sight of ye tears my heart Cl-aire …” 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Immediately she shuddered recognising an all too familiar voice crooning soothingly near her ear and stirred in her sleep at the sound of her name. She could have sworn that she could hear Jamie’s voice and feel his touch. A soft, peaceful sigh of recognition echoed on her lips.  “Mmmm … Ja-mie.”  Fingers soothed her brow and lightly caressed her face with gentle tenderness and concern. His touch comforted her but it was all too brief … then … it was gone.  She must be dreaming. Like Jamie, she would have moved heaven and earth to be near him, but she’d been unable to visit him this time because of her own injuries. Nevertheless, her images of James Fraser were as vivid as if she was there in his room right now beside him to comfort and support him. Her subconscious was willing him to be here … near to her … but she knew he was unable to leave ICU because he was badly injured as well. However, in her mind’s eye she could visualise him and a hundred times over she had done just that.  Having visited Jamie in Medical on numerous occasions when he’d been injured on previous missions, she had a kaleidoscope of images to recall.  He was dressed in the standard white undershirt that operatives wore in the infirmary. She’d stood by his bed and watched as Jamie had slept never knowing if he knew she was there or not. Somehow, she believed that he did know. Nevertheless, it was comforting for her to see him with her own eyes. Jamie always seemed so different in repose. The cold Section operative had gone and in his place she saw a vulnerable man, the man she loved ... the one who smiled in his sleep and her valiant knight in shining armour who had gone to great lengths to find and rescue her. Claire’s eyes fluttered as her mind remembered all that Jamie had done and all that he had endured in his effort to retrieve her.  They had been to hell and back. Knowing what Jamie had risked and the consequences of his actions to save her was something she could never forget. They had a bond that was indomitable … a unique understanding that had grown from a mentor and material to so much more. It was a bond that Madeline and Operations could not understand. It worried them to the point where they placed obstacles in their way to try and fracture their relationship. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger was the adage and they lived that mantra every time they were on a dangerous mission and lived to return to Section One. Resilience also made you stronger … but she knew it was Jamie’s love that now really made the difference. The bonds that tie could not be broken. She wondered if Madeline and Operations would ever come to realise this.  She never thought she would say it ... but to say that she was relieved that they were back in Section was an understatement. She was just happy that they were alive and got the chance to live another day ... even if it was here in Section One. Murtagh and Fergus had told her how Jamie’s recovery was coming, but hearing wasn’t seeing. Hearing merely visualised her fears and concerns about his welfare … seeing was the tangible component. It was what she needed to reassure herself that their words were true and not just pandering to her to waylay her anxiety. Murtagh had said that the bullet went right through Jamie’s chest and had caused some major damage. Tears welled in her eyes knowing that he must be in pain, although with James Fraser you just never knew. His threshold was phenomenal and he would never let it be known how much he was hurting.  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Jamie saw a tiny tear trickle from Claire’s eye and slowly make its journey down her cheek. With the pad of his thumb, he brushed the tear away then placed a flutter of kisses to the path the tear had travelled.  What was she dreaming about? Whatever it was it was obviously causing her distress.  Tentatively he sat on her bed; he reached out his hand and held hers. Lost in his thoughts he unconsciously stroked the delicate skin of Claire’s hand with his fingers and waited for her to wake up.  However, he suddenly had a sick feeling in his stomach. He was filled with a horrifying feeling of helplessness, for her and also for himself as well ... both of them had endured horrendous torture at the hands of the triad.

How long would the scars remain? Not the outward scars but those inside. He would recover but he wasn’t so sure about his brave and courageous Claire. His beautiful Sassenach had endured more than any operative should. This time had been far, far worse that when Red Cell had tortured her. Only time would tell if he could help her forget.  Claire’s condition seemed to have stabilized, but that was of little comfort in the face of what she had endured at the hands of Jonathon Randall. She would need time to recover. He knew her personality inside and out. His Claire was different to other Section operatives … she had a kind heart and the one thing that Madeline and Operations wanted to drum out of her … compassion. This mission would have affected her to the core. He was sure that whatever was going on inside her head was going to affect her recovery unless he could do something about it. She needed to be away from this place and the horrible memories of their time at the Rising Dragons’ base. His Claire needed to be surrounded with love.  She needed his love. How long would it be until they were in a position to capture the perpetrators and bring them to Section justice? They’d been in Medical for several days now. He knew that Madeline and Operations would be expecting a speedy recovery so that they could go back out into the field. The Rising Dragons’ triad members had escaped. In Operations’ eyes this meant that the mission was a failure and hence they were a failure too. Containment of the enemy was the ultimate goal and this was not achieved. Section was back at square one. A new mission scenario would have to be profiled when they were able to establish where Sun Yee Lok and the other triad members were. This could take time, but it was the one saving grace that he needed to see that both he and Claire recovered fully. It was the only way for them to see the Rising Dragons’ end game to its conclusion. Madeline and Operations knew this, however much they were in denial. He had an urgency to make sure that what Dr Foster had proposed to Madeline happened for the both of them.  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ “Mmmm.”  The sound of Claire rousing brought him back to the present. When he heard her take a deep breath, Jamie opened his eyes and stood up next to the side of her bed. Without releasing her hand, he reached out his other to caress her forehead, his face close to hers. So close he could smell the scent of her warm skin. Claire felt the gentle hand stroke her temple. She roused a little more.  “Mmmm.”  Her quivering moan caused the blood to rush to Jamie’s face. His eyes travelled tenderly all over her features.  "Ssshhh ... Sassenach ... It’s me.”  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Claire heard her name once more. No… It couldn’t be true … Jamie wasn’t here. Was he?  She fluttered her eyes open without really focusing, sighed then closed them again. It was just wishful thinking.  “Cl-aire.” This time, at the sound of Jamie’s voice washing over her, she blinked her eyes trying to focus on the lulling timbre of his voice. Although not fully awake she opened her eyes and looked around her to see his concerned face close to hers. She wasn’t dreaming after all … her Jamie really was here. He wasn’t an apparition; he was standing by her bed. Claire moved her head so that she could look up at him. When he smiled at her, a radiant smile bowed her mouth in return and his name echoed on her lips.  “Jamie.”  They searched each other’s faces for a long moment; the intensity of his gaze equally shocked and thrilled her. Claire couldn’t believe he was really here … that she could see him … touch him. Her hands started to shake with this need. She felt her face grow hot as he caught her stare. Jamie too felt the draw she had on him. He needed to gather her in his arms once more, to feel her closeness and reassure his love that they were going to be okay. Tenderly his eyes travelled all over her face. He longed to press gentle kisses to her temple and hold her lovingly until the nightmare of the mission dissipated. He ached to caress Claire back to good health with healing kisses. Jamie wanted to do all of that and more … much, much more.  Suddenly she was nervous, but it was a nervousness borne from relief and desire. Jamie was okay. He was going to heal. He was alive. Her skin prickled cold then hot as she felt a shiver course through her body from head to toe at his nearness. He was the stimuli that she responded to. Just the sight of him made her toes curl. James Fraser did this to her every time … it was an involuntary reaction … one she could not control. Claire stared at him as his voice invaded her senses doing funny flip flops in her heart. But it was his smile that sent her emotions soaring.  “Hi.”  Oh my … I must look terrible, she thought subconsciously running a hand through her hair in an attempt to make herself more presentable. Wriggling in the bed, Claire tried to raise herself up but felt Jamie’s resistance to her movement as he held hand captured to his. To him she was beautiful in every way. His eyes lingered on Claire’s parted lips when her head fell back into the pillow. She was unable to break her gaze from his as Jamie leaned closer. The alluring scent of her skin filled his senses until desire grabbed him, and he surrendered to its pull. Bending his head, Jamie placed his mouth to hers. The kiss was gentle in its intensity … yet everything was in that kiss. Claire could barely breathe. His touch thrilled her to the bone. Her lips moved a little under the pressure of the kiss until breathlessly, they parted for him. Ever so gently, he slipped his tongue into the warm recess of her mouth. She sighed when Jamie deepened his caress, but he was careful not to apply too much pressure to her swollen, cut lip. His tongue retreated then teased the fullness of her lips once more before reluctantly releasing her from the kiss. He knew he had to pull away before he yielded more to the embrace and couldn’t stop the irresistible urge to gather her in his arms. 

He continued to place tender kisses across Claire’s face to all of the blemishes on her porcelain skin one by one. Moving his lips up and down and across her face his caring kisses seemed to draw out the pain from each discoloration to her skin with his lips. James Fraser instinctively knew that this was the beginning of his Sassenach’s healing and if they could get out of this place soon, he would take her somewhere special as far away from Section as possible so that together they could heal properly.

Claire’s emotions were running wild. Each poignant caress seemed to penetrate deep inside that place where she was hurting. She closed her eyes momentarily feeling that Jamie’s words had somehow lifted some of the pain she had suffered. It had been too long since her face and lips had felt the pressure of her lover’s kisses. Her eyes widened as she recalled the things that he’d said to her on the mission. These kisses were a reconfirmation that the personal things they’d shared … the feelings he’d revealed … were true. Suddenly all the raw emotions in her heart burst free.  “I love you.”  She peered into Jamie’s eyes with the pure honesty of her words. Her statement was his undoing.  The last time he’d heard those words from her lips was when they were preparing to die at the monastery. Jamie remembered the passion of Claire’s gaze then. This time it had multiplied. It continued to surprise him that this beautiful woman could love him … the man who had constantly manipulated, the one who had hurt her so many times in the past. He would never tire of hearing her say those three profound words. He loved Claire beyond all reasoning, beyond all common sense. His desire for her was greater than he’d ever had for any other woman in his life. Claire was the other half of his soul. She was the very air he breathed. Without her he was a shell of a man but together they soared. Claire Beauchamp was his everything. Reaching for her, his arms pulled her into his embrace. Then, inclining his face into the side of her neck, Jamie fought to keep his own resolve but to no avail. His voice was thick with emotion as he spoke into Claire’s ear.  “I love you too mo nighean donn.”

He meant every word.  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Claire closed her eyes, as did Jamie, and they were reluctant to pull apart. Just knowing that both of them had survived the atrocities at the monastery despite all the odds was miraculous. Jamie was grateful that Dr Foster was the physician that he was. He and the team of surgeons in Med Lab were responsible for putting them back together physically and now he had all the intentions of putting his Claire back mentally and emotionally once they were out of here in a day or so. Then their real healing could begin. Finally Jamie stepped back a little, but he kept his face close to his love as he explored her features. She felt his eyes take inventory of each bruise, each mark that Jonathon Randall had bestowed and that he had lovingly kissed. She knew Jamie was livid for she saw his eyes turn cold for a split second as he saw the evidence of her welts. Claire knew that look … he could neither forgive nor forget. He was filled with such rage that god help Jonathon Randall when they next met for nothing would save him from Jamie’s wrath. However, no sooner had she seen these thoughts cross his face than they were gone.

Their foreheads touched and Jamie’s finger lightly glided over the puckered edges of her split, bottom lip. Her lip tingled at the feel of the sensitive pads of his fingertips and Claire held onto the moment any way she could. But all of a sudden it dawned on her that the surveillance cameras would have caught every moment of their reunion. Worryingly she tore her gaze away from Jamie with a herculean effort, and tried to suck some air into her empty lungs. Her eyes darted upward to the closest surveillance camera. If Section had suspected something before … then Operations and Madeleine would know everything now. It was almost too much for her, she began to panic.  “Jamie the cameras …” He pulled back, then smiled enigmatically, “They’re disabled Sassenach. Fergus has them on a feed.” “Oh … And they don't know?”  “No. It’s all right.” Her breathing slowly returned to some normalcy at his explanation, but it was still difficult because Jamie was so close. 

Raising her hand reassuringly, his lips kissed her knuckles with reverence. “Christ, ye were a brave wee thing.”

“Was I?” she responded not quite believing his compliment of her bravery under duress.

Bending toward her, Jamie took her words from her mouth and kissed her yet again brushing his lips upon hers as soft as a feather. “Aye, ye were Sassenach. How are ye feeling now?”  Claire took a deep breath. “Okay, I guess.”  “Good.”  He brushed the hair off her face, his eyes caring and caressing. “Ye've been through a tough time. We both have. It will take time to heal.” “I’m so glad you came … I’ve been so worried.”  Reaching up Claire timidly touched her mouth which Jamie had caressed. That kiss had instantly made her feel a 100% better. His kisses were the healing balm she needed, but that was out of the question unless they were able to leave Section One.  Maybe this time would be different. “I’m fine …” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* “So what's going to happen now?” “We'll have to wait until Madeline and Operations debrief us further.” “When?” “Who knows?” They exchanged searching looks, then Jamie gazed back at her and whispered back, “Soon my love. Be patient.” Claire looked up at him then away. She swallowed and looked ahead.

She couldn’t bear the prospect of staying in the infirmary one day longer than necessary. She hated being in here. The sooner she was released the better it would be or she’d go stir crazy. Physically she felt fine … she just needed to get out of here and somewhere … anywhere on the outside with Jamie that would not remind her of the mission … the Rising Dragons or Section One. But their fate was in Madeline and Operations’ hands.

Would Section’s leaders allow them to recuperate together and without surveillance 24/7? Would they demand a debriefing of the mission or a psyche analysis first or would they be compassionate and give them downtime? By god they needed it.  “I’ll try ... but it might be difficult.” Her reply amused Jamie as he fully understood where Claire was coming from. He too hated being in Med Lab any longer than necessary. Suddenly he could see his love’s eyes darken as her gaze roamed his face then locked on his eyes. There was something compelling in them that made him take note, but he was not prepared for the quietly whispered command she would say next. ~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* to be continued TUESDAY 19th May

[thomaslightwoodenthusiast]

here it is!!! i hope you guys like it fjfkcks (disclaimer: it is set in modern world!)

no time to die - thomastair

(TW: death, mentions of suicide and murder, also for simplicity reasons even though it’s technically iran i called it persia like the book)

➰➰➰➰➰➰

Thomas turned to Alastair. “Are you sure you’re gonna be okay?” he said, whilst adjusting the shorter man’s suit jacket.

“Thomas, you need not worry so much. You know I’ve been doing this for years- an awards show should be no different.”

Thomas looked at his boyfriend. Boyfriend. It was still strange to even think. It had taken him so long to accept the truth, and even longer to admit his feelings for Alastair. Despite their past, Alastair alongside Anna had been the ones who understood what he was going through and helped him. It was just that, it had taken so long to get him, Thomas was afraid Alastair would disappear.

“I love you. Blow them away, eh?” he said with a wink.

“Oh darling, I always do,” Alastair replied. “Though sometimes I do feel like I’m doing so much that I’ll have no time to die!”

That had been their last conversation. The last words Alastair spoke to Thomas before...it. Even though five years had passed, Thomas kept replaying the night and the events over and over. He still cried about it. The pain had been immense.

The song ends.

Lights go down.

Bang.

Men rushing to the stage. Paramedics running to the scene. People screaming bloody murder. Thomas didn’t believe it. Couldn’t. But there was Alastair, down like a flash and bleeding across the wooden surface. His typically brown skin paling to a sick, deathly colour. He had tried to get across, tried to see what had happened but not only did the men refuse; he was promptly dragged out of the building and sent away.

Something about what happened wasn’t right.

They all claimed Alastair had killed himself onstage; that he’d hidden the gun and used it at lights out. But Thomas knew that wasn’t true; there were no guns in their house, and he would definitely have noticed if Alastair wasn’t feeling okay. No; Thomas was convinced.

He was murdered.

The men hadn’t let him near him, which just convinced Thomas more. And any time he tried to make an attempt to the press, they didn’t listen. They brushed it off as ‘a grief-stricken boyfriend’.

Which was exactly why, five years later on the anniversary of the incident, Thomas Lightwood was sitting in a bar with his cousin Anna.

“Bullshit!”

“Whoa there, where did that come from?” Anna said, offended.

Thomas flushed. “Oh- sorry. Nothing.”

Anna could tell he was lying. Ever since Alastair’s death it had never been the same. Cordelia had been heartbroken; she refused to mention him at all even now. Thomas was the reverse. He was absolutely convinced it wasn’t suicide, but rather murder. He had dedicated the majority of the last five years to trying to find information or any evidence. It was almost heartbreaking to watch. Thomas had been through enough, losing his sister too. Anna was always very protective of her cousin- they used to nickname each other the ‘Gay Defense Squad’ because of how they stuck by and defended each other from anyone who might ‘disagree with their way of life’.

“I know it’s not nothing, ya big idiot. It’s him, isn’t it?”

Thomas sighed. “Yes. It is. I’m sorry, Anna. I really am.”

“You don’t have to be. You lost someone extremely important to you in an awful and tragic way. It takes years to get over that stuff. Especially with poor Barbara. How many years now? 7?”

“Yeah.” Thomas felt his eyes tearing up. The mental pressure to hold everything together was terrible. “Dad’s still- Gideon is still heartbroken. Well, anyone who lost a child would be, but sometimes I see him and I can see how red his eyes are, how pale he is and it’s just not fair. If there was some way, any way to just take all my parents’ pain away I would.”

Anna was thoughtful. “But what about your own? Thomas, you need help. You need someone who’s a therapist; not your cousin.”

Thomas shook. “No, no I don’t need help. I’m not insane, do you think I goddamn am? I’ve spent years trying and trying to find out what happened and look where it’s got me? No. Fucking. Where. I won’t rest.”

Anna Lightwood’s heart tore. Thomas didn’t deserve any of this. She wished he could understand that people didn’t think he was insane; they thought he was in denial. Anna had to admit; she agreed with what Thomas was doing, but there comes a time where you can only do so much, or else you might uncover a truth you might not want to hear.

A slim waiter approached the two, holding a note in his hand. “Hey guys! Sorry to bother you, but there was a man sitting at that table over there and he handed me this note. Pointed to this table and said it was for the dude.” He dropped the folded piece of paper in front of Thomas and sauntered off. Thomas picked the paper up and unfolded it. It read;

324 Blackends Street.

Tomorrow. 8pm.

Anna glanced over. “What is it?”

“I don’t know,” Thomas replied. “All it says is an address and a time. What could this...mean?”

Anna winked. “Maybe someone’s seen something they like?” she said, to which Thomas glared. “What? Look. I don’t want to get your hopes up, but this could be your big break. Your next step into finding out what happened! I say you go, but leave if the person isn’t there after a few minutes.”

Thomas considered it. He’d waited for a moment like this for so long, yet now that it was a possibility he felt strangely sick. He was anxious and terrified. “Of course, we could be wrong and maybe it’s just someone playing some stupid prank. I’ll give it a chance though. Just in case.”

The cousin duo left and parted ways at the door, Thomas’s stomach sick with a mix of anxiety and excitement. Could he really be about to solve the case? To find out the truth?

➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰

The whole day, Thomas had been extremely off. Even Christopher had noticed.

“Tom, are you okay?”

“James what have I told you about calling me that-“

“I know, I know. But you’ve been so quiet all day. You seem tense, worried about something. I know it was the anniversary of...that...yesterday. Do you need to talk? You can if you want, you know me, Christopher and Math are all here for you.”

“Look I appreciate it. Yes. I’m just stressed about something that happened when I was out with Anna last night and I can’t figure out what it means or why.”

Matthew came over from where he was sitting. “What is it?”

Thomas handed him the note.

“Ooo is someone involved in a secret little rendezvous? Kidding. Unless?”

Thomas deadpanned. “No, Matthew. No I am not. Although I don’t even know what I’m involved in myself. This waiter gave us this note saying it was for me from a random guy at another table. I don’t know what he wants from me or why, but I’m going.”

James’s eyes narrowed. “No you’re not. I don’t want you getting hurt or anything. None of us know what’s happening.”

Thomas took a breath. “I’m only gonna stay there for five minutes I promise. I’ll call you guys as soon as it’s over or if something goes wrong. Trust me, ‘kay?”

Christopher stopped his reading to look up at his cousin for a brief moment. “Please don’t die,” he said in a worrying tone.

“Kit!! I’ll be fine! Please don’t worry. You just concern yourself with your weird and wonderful world of books.” Thomas notices the way Christopher avoided his gaze. He was very fidgety. He tended to get like this when in stressful situations.

“Group hug,” called James.

➰➰➰➰➰➰

Thomas breathed in and out slowly to calm his nerves. He was walking towards the building he presumed it was. He knew he should nope the hell out of there, but what was life without a little risking it? He stopped at the right address-

And was promptly yanked through a doorway.

On which he banged his head.

“Okay now if you’re trying to be discreet on kidnapping me it isn’t really working-“

“Oh SHUT up I’m not kidnapping you you daft log.”

Thomas opened his mouth to reply, but he froze where he was standing. That voice, that beautiful voice. The accent with a slightly foreign lilt.

“No...”

The man replied back in a mocking tone. “Yes...”

“...Alastair?”

He flicked the light on, as if to prove it. And it was. The brown skin, the dark hair and eyes, the short yet lean stature. “In the flesh.”

Thomas threw his arms around him. Alastair returned the gesture. The two sobbed into each other’s shoulders for a while, as if their tears were glue holding them together. Alastair moved his head away, but did not dare to release his grip on Thomas. “I suppose I have some explaining to do?”

“I thought- I thought you were dead! You were shot! Wait, was it fake? Was-“

“That’s one thing that was real about the situation. They had intended to kill me but missed my head and hit me,” said Alastair, rolling up his shirt, “here.”

There was a scar on the left side of his chest. It looked painful.

“Who’s ‘they’?”

“Well it’s not really a they, more a he.”

“Then who’s he?”

Alastair stopped for a moment. Thomas could see his fear. Whoever had hurt him this badly deserved death.

“It’s actually- well, my psycho ex. But- you know him.”

“I do? Who the hell is he?”

“Think of Matthew. Did he ever say anything about his brother? About him going away for several days at a time with no explanation?”

“It’s not- no. Your psycho ex, the one who did all this to you, is Charles? Fairchild? The goody-two-shoes who always acted superior to everyone?”

Alastair nodded.

“Dear God! I’ll kill him, I swear to GOD-“

“No Thomas, please. I need to explain what happened. After I was hurt, I was taken straight to wherever Charles lived. The bleeding stopped on its own, but that’s why the wound hasn’t healed as well. I was basically held captive for three years- not allowed out on my own, or left alone in the house. But one day, I did it. I hurt him, Thomas. I beat the hell out of him and didn’t even care. I still don’t.”

“But- you said you were held for three years. It’s been five.”

“I’ve been all around this country. Trying to hide from him.”

Thomas felt hurt. “But why didn’t you just come straight to me? Or Cordelia? She’s been heartbroken ever since, and she refuses to even mention your name now.”

Alastair was desperate. “I know, and I’m sorry. I couldn’t go there because I thought it would be too obvious. I thought he’d come for one of you, and I couldn’t risk it. But over time, I realised I can’t do this anymore. I decided I was going to move back home- to Persia. Or at least, that I would...if I could do it with you.”

Thomas stood, suddenly angered. “What about my family? My parents?? They’ve already lost one daughter, I doubt they want to lose their son. And my friends??”

“You can visit them! They can come to Persia! It’s just, I will never be safe unless it’s at home,” said Alastair, rushing his words as if he was afraid Thomas would make a run for it. “Please, come with me. I love you, Thomas. I love you and I need you.”

Thomas resigned; he knew what he was going to do.

He leaned down and kissed Alastair; it was as beautiful a moment as it was heartbreaking. Years of pain, now joined together again. Alastair stood up on the tips of his toes and enveloped his fingers in Thomas’s hair. Thomas felt as if the two torn-apart pieces of his heart were knitting themselves back together in that very moment. They broke away from each other, catching their breath more than they thought they needed to.

“You don’t even have to ask twice.”

➰➰➰➰➰➰➰

Thomas informed the others of what was going to happen. No one was pleased, and Sophie was worried, but they made an attempt to understand his situation.

Thomas felt alive for one of the first times in a long time. It was exhilarating and the whole thing was so fun. Part of him worried for his family, but he knew they were safe; it was his duty to protect Alastair.

“I can’t help but feeling that there is not much difference between what we are doing and an elopement,” voiced Alastair, the two together on the plane. Thomas laughed. He put his arm around Alastair, who cuddled in to him as best he could with the awkward aeroplane seats.

“I suppose you’re right. Maybe we’re criminals, and we’re on the run! Or we’re secret lovers, running away to be who we truly are!” he said. The instructions started and the plane began moving. Alastair suddenly felt an odd sinking feeling.

“Are you okay?”

Alastair dismissed the question with a shake of his head and sat up. “I’m fine. It’s just- well we’re leaving so much behind I guess.”

Thomas gripped his hand. “You’re doing what’s right for you, and that’s all that matters.” The stewardesses finished giving their instructions and a new voice came over the plane.

“Hello and good afternoon, this is your pilot speaking!”

“No,” said Alastair. “No no no this can’t be true. He couldn’t have. I-I-,” he froze. He felt his seatbelt in an attempt to open it, but it was jammed. Speechless, he reached over Thomas, who had paled slightly.

His belt was jammed too.

“Alastair- breathe, please you’re going to choke.”

“...please keep your seatbelts absolutely fastened at all times...”

“He found me, Thomas.”

“...because there really...”

“I’m done for.”

“...is...”

Thomas was as speechless as Alastair. He was terrified. For even though they weren’t close, he knew exactly who the voice belonged to.

Charles.

“...no time to die.”

➰➰➰

this is so dramatic i’m sorry but anyways i have a plan for a short prequel (as in, the events leading up to Alastair’s ‘death’) if anyone wants one? and also lmk if you want a sequel 😗✌️