#but it’s gonna be used as a ploy to get people more tolerant of him and his bullshit i’m calling it rn

[velarisdusk]

tiktok US is gone and there’s no doubt in my mind that trump will reinstate it within a week or two bc he’s got the billionaires and half the supreme court in the palm of his hand and everyone is gonna say fuck it and forget all the bullshit he’s done and said bc “yasss president trump saved tiktok” god give me a fucking xanax or something

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Hi! As someone who’s literary opinion I really trust, I was surprised that you’re a twilight fan? I know almost nothing except commen knowledge things about that series, and I always assumed it was actually bad/un-feminist. What is it that you like so much that others seem to miss? I’m just genuinely curious about your take on the hate it always seems to get vs. it’s actual quality. I’m not gonna judge bc animorphs is also one of those books where you see it and assume it’s bad.

In over 14 years of loving this series, I’m not sure anyone has ever asked me why I enjoy it instead of simply trying to convince me that I’m wrong to do so.  So thank you for that.

First and foremost, I love the Twilight saga because of the vivid detail in Stephenie Meyer’s writing style.  The descriptions are so lush and dense with sensory information that you can practically bite down on them as you read.  Bella and Jacob aren’t just sitting on the beach; they’re sitting on a gnarled log of driftwood, worn smooth at the top from where so many Quileute teens have sat upon it during bonfires but still uneven enough to rock on its branches when Bella suddenly stands to rage at her own mortality.  Meyer describes that log in Twilight, so tangibly and with such economy of detail, that we recognize it immediately when Bella and Jacob return to that spot in Eclipse.  I’ve always disliked the movies, because I’ve always felt that the best part of Meyer’s writing simply did not translate well to the screen.

Secondly, I love the feminism.

Okay, let’s take a quick pause to let everyone gasp and clutch their pearls over me calling Twilight a feminist work.  I will address the criticisms later.  For now, please just hear me out.

Twilight strikes me as a premier example of what Hélène Cixous means when she calls for “women’s writing,” or writing for women, about women, by women, with a strong focus on the concerns and strengths and desires of womanhood.  This is a series about building and maintaining close relationships, both romantic and platonic.  It celebrates beauty, and love, and care.  Bella moves to Forks because she recognizes that her dad is lonely while her mom is quite the opposite, torn between family priorities.  She doesn’t simply subsume her interests to those of other people, but instead actively chooses how and when and where to express her love for her birth family and her found families.  Most of the other major decisions throughout the story — Alice “adopting” Bella, Carlisle moving the family to Alaska, Jacob becoming werewolf beta, the Cullens going up against the Volturi, etc. — are motivated by care and devotion for one’s family and friends.  Even the selfish or morally ambiguous character choices are shown to be motivated by love.  Rosalie tells Edward that Bella died because she genuinely thinks it’ll help him move on.  Victoria creates an army that nearly destroys Forks because she’s avenging James.  Alice abandons Bella and the others before the final battle because if she can’t save her entire family, then she’ll settle for saving her lover before letting him die in vain.

Not only is there a striking concern with love and care, but there’s also a strong commitment to avoiding violence.  Bella’s eventual vamp-superpower proves to be preventing violence and protecting others, an awesome character decision that I’d argue gets set up as early as the first book.  She lives in a violent world — this is a YA SF story, after all — but she has the power to suppress violence and create peace, both in herself and others.  I was already sick of “power = ability to inflict damage” in YA stories well before I knew the word “patriarchy.”  Twilight was one of the first books to convey to me that power could be refusing to do harm in spite of hunger or anger, that power could be shielding ones’ family, that power could be about building enough friendships and alliances to have an army at one’s back when facing an enemy too strong to take on alone.

Closely connected to all of that love and care, I love how much Twilight is about navigating teenage girlhood.  Is it empowering, intersectional, or all-inclusive?  Hell no.  Does it still dare to suggest that a completely ordinary teenage girl could have valid concerns about the world?  Yep.  The main conflict of the story, as Stephen King so derisively explained, is about the romantic entanglements of a teenage girl, and the book therefore has no literary merit.  (To quote my dad’s response: “Bold words from the guy who inflicted Firestarter on the world.”)

There is, indeed, a lot of romance in Twilight.  There are a lot of clothes.  Alice and Rosalie especially spend a lot of time on makeup, and hair, and choosing the prettiest cars and houses.  Twilight embraces all the stereotypically “girly” concerns of adolescence, and makes no effort to apologize for or condemn them.  Bella isn’t particularly good at performing them — she likes but doesn’t excel at shopping, fiercely defends her ugly car as ugly, hobbles through prom on crutches — but she can still enjoy the feeling of being pretty in a sparkly dress while dancing with her sparkly boyfriend.  And Twilight, like Animorphs with Cassie, takes the daring step of treating that feeling as valid.

Speaking of sparkles, I love the commitment to the fantasy concept in Twilight, including the myriad mundanities that Meyer brings with that commitment.  If you have super-speed, why not use it to play extreme baseball?  If you’re a mindreader with a clairvoyant sister, why wouldn’t you two play mental chess games?  I couldn’t tell you, after seven seasons of Buffy or eight of Vampire Diaries, what Spike or Damien or Angel or Stefan does all day when not brooding or lurking in the bushes to creep on human women.  I can tell you what the Cullens get up to.  Emmett and Rosalie work on their cars, usually by holding them overhead one-handed.  Carlisle and Alice read plays, and sometimes talk the whole family into home Shakespeare productions.  Edward and Carlisle debate theology, Emmett and Jasper have dumb athletic competitions, Edward and Esme play music, Alice manipulates stock markets, the twins go shopping online, etcetera.  The Cullens feel real, feel like the vampires next door, in a way that Louis and Lestat simply do not.

To get to the elephant in the room — I just described Twilight as a feminist text! — let’s talk about the other thing the Cullens do for fun: they have sex.  Weird sex.  Kinky furniture-breaking sex.  Sex that Emmett (who would know) compares to bear-wrestling.  These books suck with regards to queer representation, but they are sex-positive.  They feature an old-school Anglican protagonist offering his daughter-in-law a medical abortion.  They treat Edward’s desire for sex only within marriage and Alice’s desire for sex outside of marriage as both being valid.  Like I said, not groundbreaking, even by the standards of 2005, but still more than most teen novels do even today.

There’s a passage from Breaking Dawn that people love to pull out of context as “everything wrong with Twilight in two paragraphs” because it describes Bella waking up the morning after sex with bruises on her arms.  That moment is shocking out of context, to be sure — but in context, it’s the end result of an in-depth consent negotiation that lasts four books.  Bella says that she’d like to become a vampire.  Edward says okay, but only if she spends a few more years living as a human and considering that choice.  Bella says okay, but only if Edward, not Carlisle, becomes the one to turn her.  Edward says they can use his venom, but that Carlisle, who’s an MD, really needs to supervise the process.  Bella doesn’t love the idea of Edward’s stepdad cockblocking what’s supposed to be an intimate moment, and so agrees only on the grounds that she gets to have sex with Edward as a human first.  Edward’s hella Catholic, so he requests that they get married first.  Bella’s super horny, so she demands that the wedding happen within six months.  Edward says that he might hurt her during sex, and Bella says that she wants a little hurt during sex.  They marry.  They bang.  During the banging, Edward makes every effort to be controlled and courteous and gentile, while Bella goes wild and crazy.  The next morning, she has bruises and he does not.  Edward apologizes, but Bella’s actually really into it.  She spends a while admiring her sexy vamp-marked self in the mirror, touches the bruises many times, and reminds us yet again that Bella Swan’s whole M.O. is being a monsterfucker.  Her kink is not my kink, and that’s okay.

To be clear, I think there are other aspects of the romance that get criticized for good reason.  Edward does not negotiate with Bella before sneaking into her room to watch her sleep, and he does make unacceptable use of their power differences when he thinks she’s in danger of being mauled by werewolves.  The text condemns Jacob’s “don’t wanna die a virgin” ploy to manipulate a kiss out of Bella, but not the wider conceit of all the male characters as possessing uncontrollable urges.  Bella’s struggles to adjust to a new town feel very feminine and realistic; her amused tolerance of Jacob’s and Mike’s sexual harassment as the price for their friendship does not.  Werewolf imprinting might be mostly platonic, but that doesn’t make it okay for Meyer to depict it as a form of soulmate bonding that happens with child characters. Those are good points, all around.  I just wish that most of them didn’t come up in the context of post-hoc rationalizations for loathing the femininity of a feminine text.

I’m not calling Twilight an unproblematic series.  I’m saying that it gets (rightly!) criticized for appropriating Quileute culture, while Buffy’s total absence of main characters of color and blatant anti-Romani racism are (wrongly!) not remarked upon. I'm saying that I’ve been told I’m a misogynist for liking Twilight but not for liking James Bond.  I’m saying that there’s a reason people tend to go “oh, that makes so much sense!” when I let them in on the fact that reactive hatred for “Twitards” started and spread on 4Chan, later home of Gamergate and incel culture.  I’m saying that Twilight depicts problematic relationship dynamics as sexy — but then so do Vampire Academy, Blue Bloods, Supernatural, Vladimir Tod, and Vampire Diaries.  All of which take the time to stop and thumb their noses at Twilight, smug in the superiority of having vampires that fly rather than vampires that sparkle, and for thoroughly condemning teenage girls for being girly while continuing to show men inflicting violence on them.

After all, as Erin May Kelly puts it: “we live in a world taught to hate everything to do with little girls.  We hate the books they read and the bands they like.  Is there anything the world makes fun of more than One Direction and Twilight?”  No one has ever called me a misogynist for liking the MCU, in spite of less than a third of its movies even managing to clear the low-low bar of the Bechdel test.  Because people are still allowed to like Harry Potter in spite of its racism, or Lord of the Rings despite its imperialism.  Because hatred for Twilight was never about its very real sexism, or the genuinely silly sparkle-vampires, until it had to justify itself as something other than hate for everything that teenage girls have ever dared openly love.

I enjoy the novels, and I enjoy the fan fiction that tries to fix some of the problems with the novels.  I appreciate the extent to which Meyer has elevated fan culture, and made an effort to acknowledge her own past mistakes.  I would love to be able to talk about my love for the series as a flawed but beautiful work of literature, but for now I’ll settle for asking that the world just let me enjoy it in peace.

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Roguish Women Part 47

Summary: Kate is an American who fled to Paris to escape her past life. Now she's dancing and  playing the part of a courtesan at the Moulin Rouge. There she meets Tommy Shelby who thinks she can be useful in expanding his empire. But has he been blinded?

Part 47: The final bullet in the vendetta.

            Kate woke up to find the bed empty beside her. It was early, she’d been anxious to be on time. She knew Tommy wouldn’t wake her up in hopes that she would sleep through the planned event.

            But she was up and dressed before she usually was. The flat was just as empty as the bed. Kate slipped on her coat and went down the street to the distillery. Several of the men on watch tipped their cap her way.

            Finn was waiting for her at the top of the stairs. He looked conflicted when she approached. “Tommy said not to let you come.” He stood between her and the stairs.

            Kate narrowed her eyes at him. “Well, that’s not his choice to make, now, is it?”

            “The youngest Shelby didn’t look like he wanted to get caught up in the argument, but also didn’t want to catch flak from his brother. “It’d just be easier…”

            “We’re not living in easy times.” She interrupted. “I’ve heard Tommy’s side and I’ve made up my mind.” She concluded before pushing past Finn and making her way downstairs.

            Only Tommy was there, standing near a table with two chairs. He held a bottle of gin in his hand.

            “You never explained the label to me,” Kate spoke up to alert him of her presence.

            He turned although he didn’t seem too surprised that she had shown up. “What needs explaining?”

            She walked up to him and took the bottle from his hand. “Distilled for the eradication of seemingly incurable sadness.” She read off, having noticed it earlier when they were talking to Alfie.

            “Polly said that when you were in America, I nearly drank meself to death.” He answered calmly. “That and with the morphine, it was the only way I could tolerate being without you. I could sleep, I could ease myself of the guilt, and I could forget. But I’d much rather have you here.” He cradled her cheek in his hand. “So, go back home and wait for me.”

            “I’ll be right here. For the rest of your life, I’ll be here.” She kissed him softly, refusing to go anywhere.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~

            Kate hadn’t seen Luca Changretta in years. His name had been haunting her for so long that she nearly forgot how long it’d been since they’d been face to face. He’d grown into a menacing figure, something she always knew he would be. The kind of fierce stature he was destined to become under the guidance of some of the most ruthless dons America had ever seen.

            Luca’s eyes landed on her as he stopped in front of her, Polly, Tommy, and Finn. But he didn’t speak to her. Instead, he beckoned one of his men to bring over a handful of documents, spread across the table.

            “I’ve had my lawyers draw up these. Documents for everything you own. And you’re gonna sign them all over to my family. Or you’re gonna die.” Standing in front of Tommy, Luca looked back to Kate. “I would’ve buried your whole family. Y’know, my mother knows you.” Luca said steadily. “She told me how to hurt you. How to really make you suffer. ‘Take everything from him, then make him watch Kathleen Lynch die.”

            Tommy didn’t flinch. He simply maintained eye contact with the man. Kate didn’t budge either.

            “Because she���s worse than you are, in some ways.” Luca continued. “She murdered two people who were loyal to me and my family. Killed them in cold blood for no reason. You and I, we kill to gain something, don’t we? But her? She just doesn’t care, does she? I’ve got the Leoni family asking me to right her wrongs. Take care of her so she doesn’t do any more harm. So, I will. And you’ll watch and live with the knowledge that you were her downfall.”

            Polly shifted a bit so she was standing more in front of Kate. But neither of them said a word in response.

            “Search them,” Luca commanded after finding a gun in Tommy’s coat. “The dead girl walking has a gun on her thigh.” He added, sending a glare towards Kate.

            None of them said anything as they were patted down. Kate reached down and pulled the gun from her holster on her thigh, handing it over.

            Luca began pushing each document onto the floor. “So, get down on your knees and sign those papers. I’ll even let you say goodbye to her if you’re quick about it.” He gestured for one of his men with a heavy-looking gun over. The executioner in place, as it were.

            Tommy’s eyes flicked to Polly then Kate before he sank to the floor. “A friend once told me that big fucks small. So, I had to find someone bigger than you.”

            “You’re too trusting to leave your empire behind to boys, Luca,” Kate spoke up on cue. “Who’s making sure the Spinetta’s don’t decide to take what’s yours? You may work for them but they have no loyalty to you. Your family is all but wiped out. Your allies in Boston are dead because of me. I’ve gotten word from Frank Wallace that the Gustin Gang has already seized half of the territory Santo Leoni used to own. They’re loyal to us and they could very well take all of it within the next year. And you know how much Frank just loves to hate you. You’ll never make a profit in that city again. After that you’ll lose New York too.”

            “And there’s a man in Chicago who’s willing to take over your business in New York as well,” Polly added.

            Kate couldn’t help the small smirk on her face. Vengeance really was sweet. “Now who do we know in Chicago that’s bigger than you’ll ever be?”

            Luca seemed like he was starting to grasp the ploy that had been made in front of him. The smugness was starting to fade from his eyes.

            “Alphonse Capone.” Tommy finished for her.

            “You’re talking to that fat fuck?” He hissed and looked to Kate. “That man killed your fucking mother and you’re working with him?”

            “The fact that you know that proves to me you were the one who told the Outfit where my mother lived. You were the final nail in her coffin.” She wasn’t as good at containing her anger like Tommy and Polly. “You used him to kill my mother and to get me out of your hair. Now I’m going to use him to kill you.”

            “All your blood relatives you brought here are dead. The only ones left are the ones who will take the highest bid.” Tommy concluded

            Luca turned to his men. The shock slowing down his movements.

            “Loyalty is so fickle, isn’t it?” Kate said with venom in her voice.

            Luca turned back to Tommy and reached for his coat.

            “Tommy!” Kate shrieked.

            He reacted fast, knocking the pistol out of Luca’s hand. Polly had to pull Kate away from the men brawling. She felt helpless, watching Tommy finally get the upper hand and slam Luca’s face into the gin bottles on the table.

            She was so caught in the action that she didn’t see the door open until Arthur was well in her line of vision, holding up a gun.

            The bullet went through Luca’s head and into the vat behind him. The final crescendo.

 ~~~~~~~~~~

            Kate was almost bouncing out of her skin to get out of Birmingham. She was all smiles as they arrived at Arrow House. The large manor was such a sight to behold even at dusk when they pulled up the gravel drive.

            “Some fresh air, aye?” Tommy smiled as he helped Kate out of the car.

            “I can’t wait to see Blue tomorrow. I hope he hasn’t forgotten me.”

            “Horses have very good memories.” He assured her, linking arms with her as they walked back into the home they’d missed. “I’m sure he’ll be just as glad to see you.”

            “I’m going to get ready; they’ll be here soon.” On top of being back in Warwickshire and spending a nice evening with friends and family, they were finally able to tell everyone the news of Kate’s pregnancy. With the vendetta behind them, it seemed there was nothing but the open sky ahead of them. Even if it was naïve to think it would be smooth sailing from then on, Kate still wanted to believe that it would.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            Tommy called for everyone’s attention as they drank and laughed in the parlor later on that night. He stood with Kate sitting nearby.

            “Listen up, before we go and eat, I’d like to say a few words. Last time we were all here, it ended badly. But now we’re in a happier place, something I think we all deserve. Last time, Kate wasn’t with us. But she’s here now and that’s something I’m very grateful for.”

            “I think that’s something we’re all grateful for.” Arthur chimed in loudly. “Keeps you in line.”

            Kate laughed. “I try my best.”

            “That she does.” Tommy looked fondly at her. “Other happy news, we’ll be having a wedding as soon as we can plan it. And we’ll be expecting a new arrival, maybe two if Pol’s right. Which, we all know she is when it comes to these things. In other words, Kate is expecting twins.”

            There was a murmur of surprise but Ada looked thrilled as she crossed the room to hug her. “I should’ve known. How couldn’t I have known?”

            “Twins, aye?” Arthur shook his head with a grin. “And what’ll they be, Polly? Boys or girls or both?”

            “Two boys,” Polly reported. “God bless us all.”

            Kate smiled and stood up to kiss Tommy’s cheek. What a happy occasion.

            “Then, that gives me even more of an argument for what m’about to say.” Arthur stood up with his whiskey glass in hand. “Our enemies are gone. And for the first time since we enlisted in the yeomanry. The Shelby boys, me, Tommy, and John.” He paused briefly, sadness in his eyes for their fallen brother. “For the first time, there’s peace. Since you’ve got little ones on the way, you need some free time. So, I propose, from everyone in the company, that Tommy should take a holiday. War’s over. It’s time you’ve rested.”

            Kate nodded and squeezed Tommy’s hand.

            “To peace.” Arthur finished his toast, giving his brother an earnest look. But Tommy’s eyes were distant. There was something that wasn’t done with.

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @biba3434 @kimmietea  @karmezii @enrapturedbythemoon @vampgirl1997 @tarafaithe @evelynshelby

Tag list: @radical-gecko @actorinfluence @meltingicequeen @merlettina 

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[planetsam]

I have so many feels from that hug! I want all the Malex affection. I would love to see a post Crashcon fic where Michael keeps being really physically affectionate towards Alex and just generally wanting him close by because my dude was not even trying to hide his emotions here. +1 for this leading to *the* big talk where they are both honest with their feelings.

“Shit shit shit,” Michael can only curse as he runs through the crowd, “Get out of the way! Move!”

No-one wants to move, of course, because no-one in this fucking town can. Michael’s got no other option even though he knows it’s going to land him in more hot water than he wants to be in right now. He’s got no powers so the only choice he has is to deck the first guy he sees with a holster and fire several shots into the air. They crowd, understandably, panics. Screams ring out as people run away. That’s the thing about chaos, it feeds on itself. And no-one wants to be a hero at fucking Crash Con.

“Guerin!”

Except for one fucking person.

“We have to go,” Alex says, “everyone else is gone. Come on.”

He reaches for him but Michael shrugs him off. He’s not sure why, he just knows that he can’t run. Not when alien tech is going to destroy everything. Not when the one thing he’s been working towards his entire life is about to go up in smoke. If he had his powers maybe he could move it but he doesn’t. He can’t. Everything in him is screaming to run in about a dozen different directions, do a dozen different things. Alex grabs him this time, slipping past Michael’s defenses. As per fucking usual.

“It’s gonna blow,” Michael says, “the stage is varnished.”

“Then we have to get away from here,” Alex says.

“But it’s the console,” Michael retorts, turning to look at it, “it’s complete. Max thinks it’s a remote. There’s a ship��” 
“Guerin, it’s not worth dying over,” Alex says.

“You don’t know that!”

Alex stares at him and Michael knows he probably sounds insane. He doesn’t have time to make Alex understand what he’s trying to put into words. He can’t just leave his one chance here though. He doesn’t know if it’s worth it or if it isn’t, he doesn’t know if he can make that choice. It’s odd how his greatest reason to stay and his greatest chance to go are both here. Trying to force the choice, even though he swore it was earth. He swore but he wasn’t sure. He’s not sure now.

“Alex I can’t,” he says, “there’s a chance for me to go home. I can’t walk away from that.”

He sees Alex’s jaw clench and he doesn’t know what to say. Or how to say it. He would stay for Alex, that much is so fucking clear, but Alex doesn’t want him to stay. Or doesn’t want to be the reason he stays. He doesn’t want to stand in his way. Michael isn’t good at these choices, he always always makes the wrong fucking one. Sometimes the reason is good, sometimes it isn’t, but the end result always is the opposite of what he wants.

“Is that what you want?” Alex asks. Michael opens and closes his mouth, “answer me Guerin, do you want to go?”

“No,” he blurts out.

“Then give me the gun,” Alex says.

Michael hands it over, not sure what he’s going to do until Alex lifts it and assumes a stance that Michael hasn’t seen. He’s only caught glimpses of the solider Alex became. The uniform, the stance, all of that is a covering that he can push past usually. This isn’t. Michael has to force himself to watch as Alex aims and squeezes the trigger. The pieces want to be together but Alex breaks them apart with surgical precession, burying several bullets neatly at key points.

Gold radiates out and splinters across the surface. Michael swears that he can hear the glass screaming. It hurts in the hollow place where he can usually find Max and Isobel, the place where his telekensis comes from. It hurts there and it hurts everywhere, like he’s the one breaking apart. The glass keeps cracking and he hears Alex take several more shots that make the heavy curtains fall on it. Michael takes a step towards the glass but the breaking continues as the molecules pull apart. There’s a high pitched sound, that’s his only warning.

“Get down!” He yells and tackles Alex as his only shot at getting home explodes.

It’s hot and chaotic and it hurts but Michael stays covering Alex as much as he can until he feels the shards of glass stop bouncing off his jacket. When he pulls back, Alex’s face is tight and a few shades paler than Michael is used to seeing. Michael ignores every boundary to try and identify the problem, flattening his hands against Alex’s chest and neck. Alex coughs and opens his eyes, immediately shrugging Michael off to curl over his wrist.

“Shit,” Michael swears.

Alex’s wrist is bent at an awkward angle and whether it’s because of the tackle, the ship or something else—it doesn’t really matter. It all comes back to him. The bone’s not through the skin but he can see Alex is in pain. He braces himself but before he can push himself up, Michael gets his hand under his wrist. They both look around at the chaos from the explosion. Getting out is paramount but Michael doesn’t have it in him to hurt Alex more. He throws his jacket to the side and grabs his overshirt, ignoring the heat on his skin. He gets his jacket under his arm and wraps his shirt into a makeshift sling, bracing it as much as he possibly can.

“Come on,” he says, helping Alex get to his feet.

“Get the gun,” Alex snaps and of course he would be thinking logically at a time like this. Michael grabs the firearm, “this way,” Alex says nodding in a direction.

Michael trusts him and helps him get away from the explosion. Alex’s gait is steady but there’s no way the very slight limp he still has is pleasant on this. Michael does his best to take any of the jostling off. It’s not perfect but what the hell is in their lives. Worry and grief churn in his gut but the first outweighs the second. He can mourn for his ticked out as soon as his reason to stay is alright.

“Hey, hey I need some help,” he says to the first paramedic he sees, “his wrist is broken.”

The paramedic ushers them over. Michael doesn’t even think about scrambling into the ambulance after Alex as the paramedic snaps on a pair of gloves and undoes his makeshift splint and sling. Alex’s jaw clenches as the limb is shifted onto a proper splint and re-bandaged. Michael can hear the chaos going around outside.

“Sir, sir!” Michael turns to get a bright light shown in his eyes.

“I’m fine,” he snaps.

Alex makes a pained sound that has his heart leap into his throat but when the paramedic is inspecting his wrist, he glares and motions towards the ambulance door. Even though he’s relieved that Alex isn’t actually in more pain he still manages to shake his head. He’s not going anywhere. He didn’t get how Max was about Liz and anything vaguely Liz-Related but it’s starting to make a lot more sense to him now.

“You can’t help at the hospital,” Alex tells him the second the paramedic is called out to triage someone in worse shape than Alex, “you have to go,” he says.

“What? No way. I’m not leaving you—“

“Yes,” Alex says firmly, “they’re going to try and check you out again,” Michael opens his mouth, “you aren’t family. You can’t come with me when they fix my wrist,” he says, though not as unkindly as Michael’s pretty sure he deserves, “make sure everyone else is okay.”

Michael doesn’t want to get out of the ambulance and he fucking knows that ‘make sure everyone else is okay’ is a cheap ploy to get him out. Everyone else is a lot better off than his powerless ass. But Alex gives him a hard look that distinctly says Michael shouldn’t be questioning him right now. Normally Michael would tell him where he can put that look, but the pallor of his skin and the tight press of his lips makes him reconsider. The pained groan that Alex gave to distract the paramedic was partially theatrical but Alex also isn’t in a position to play alien interference.

“Fine, but I’m coming by afterwards. If they discharge you let me know.”

Despite his best efforts to be quick about it, it takes him a few hours to find everyone and help in various ways. It’s enough time for Alex to send a text that he’s been discharged and when Michael asks if he escaped or actually got discharged, Alex sends him a picture of a massive white plaster cast that takes up his forearm and Michael discovers that you can flip someone off with a recently set wrist. Despite his bone deep weariness and the fact that Alex might not let him in, Michael goes over.

“You okay?” He asks quickly.

“I’m fine,” Alex says, his eyes sweeping him up and down, “are you?”

“Yeah, I’m not the one in a cast.”

Alex scoffs but still somehow lets him in.

“You are the one who got his ticked home blown up,” he points out. Michael winces as he goes to the thing that Michael was trying to avoid thinking about, “by a Manes man,” Alex adds.

How Alex can manage to feel bad about that floors Michael. After all the fucked up shit that happened it’s clear Alex didn’t want to do what he did. It’s also clear that he expects Michael to blame him for it, even though they both know Michael practically begged him to do it.

“You got your wrist broken,” Michael points out.

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” Alex says.

“Considering your pain tolerance that’s everything,” Michael points out.

Alex looks away and Michael wonders if he’s managed to slide over some invisible line already. Obviously he wishes Alex’s life wasn’t so filled with pain and he’s not proud of the role that he’s played in adding to it. Both intentionally and unintentionally. Alex looks at him pointedly and Michael wonders why it suddenly feels like there’s electricity in the air.

“I didn’t want to do that to your console,” Alex says.

“I don’t give a shit about the console!”

“You don’t give a shit about the thing you spent your whole life building? The thing I stole from you?” Alex questions, “I saw the way you were looking at it. I swore I wasn’t going to be another person from my family who got in your way.”

“I wanted you to be in my way!” Michael is surprised by how loud and desperate his voice comes out, “I couldn’t do that myself. I needed you there,” Alex looks surprised but still defensive, “I know you wouldn’t have done it without me making you,” Michael says finally.

Alex looks down and Michael tries to swallow the emotion that tightens his throat.

“For how long?” He asks.

“What?”

“How long is that going to last before it becomes my fault?” Alex asks. Michael wishes he didn’t know what he was talking about. He wishes he could say it wouldn’t but he can’t. Alex shakes his head, “we both know it’s only a matter of time.”

“No, no,” Michael says, “not this time.”

Alex shakes his head.

“You can’t know that,” he says.

Michael stares at him. Alex, not being a coward, doesn’t look away. He just waits. Michael hates that about him. Alex can be patient, not that he always is. But when he needs to be, he can be. Michael is usually the one who breaks first and this time is no different.

“You got a pen?”

Alex stares at him, confused. But he goes over to the drawer and pulls out a pen because of course Alex is also the more organized. Michael uncaps it and motions for Alex to give him his casted arm. Alex sighs but extends it, giving Michael more trust than he probably deserves at the moment.

“Not Alex’s Fault,” he says, “signed by me,” he adds, scribbling his name, “is it past midnight?” He dates it too just to be safe, “there. If I try to do something stupid just show me that.”

Alex looks down at his wrist. But he doesn’t look convinced. Michael can’t fully blame him. He can only hope that it’s a start in the right direction. Alex lowers his wrist and rubs between his eyebrows.

“Do you want something to eat?”

“Huh?”
 “Food, do you want food,” Alex says, “we should talk but I’m starving.”

Michael stares for a moment before nodding quickly. He’s surprised at how this has turned but he can’t say he’s upset about it. He watches as Alex makes his way over to the fridge.

“What are you in the mood for?” He asks, looking back at him.

Michael finally catches on and comes over to help Alex look.

[crimsonbluemoon]

Working for Love: A TerrorMoo story 16/17

Hello hello! Happy Saturday to everyone reading this. This story’s been a lot of fun to write, and I’m happy to get this final part out. This is the technical ending to the story, but per Grace’s request, I’ll have an extra scene for people looking for a mature epilogue. 

But for those who don’t, this is the final one! So please, enjoy.

OH! And also make sure to come to my new Discord’s Podcast tonight at 8pm! ‘The Creativity Corner’ is for writers and authors who want to have others to connect with, or fans that wanna help support their favorite content creators. We’ve got a happy little community right now, so come join us! 

Our Podcast tonight will be about Burnout and Artblocks and how to push through them. 

If you need the link, here it is. <3 

Now enjoy the story!

Previous Part

Start from the beginning

Brian couldn’t keep the smile off his face if someone punched him (Tyler had already threatened to once, due to how ‘goofy’ his grin looked all day). Why?

Because he and Brock were together. 

Well, sort of. 

After comforting Brock during his breakdown, he’d spent a week sleeping at Brock’s place. Cuddling and kissing Brock every morning before life dragged them out of bed had been the best part of his day, and he felt high from the sensations that thrummed through his body each time Brock murmured his name with fondness. Sex hadn’t been talked about yet, which Brian understood. Brock had taken two hours to fully explain the negative effects his ex had on his body image, as well as his mental health. Just hearing how Brock’s previous boyfriend handled the situation was disgusting and left a bitter taste in his mouth. He’d split a pizza with Craig on Brock’s couch the next day, letting Brock catch up on sleep he’d been struggling to claim due to his anxiety. Mini looked rightfully spiteful when speaking about the ex, pointing out that the emotional abuse he’d provided Brock had been going on long before Brock even realized it. 

Brian had made sure to cuddle Brock even tighter that night, hoping his warmth could chase away any residual pain left behind. 

“You still didn’t ask him to be your boyfriend? You’re literally worse than Jonathan and Evan. I didn’t even think that was possible.” Tyler’s blunt statement made Brian laugh and Evan shrug, arms leaning on the front desk.

“There’s no expiration date on love.” 

“You saying you love Jonathan?” Brian asked, forcing himself not to pump his fists when finally getting a hint of a blush on Evan’s face. 

“I’m just here for the pizza man, not to get dissected.” And to prove his point, Evan reached forward to snag a piece from the box in front of him. The tradition of the gym was to provide pizza every first monday of the month as an incentive to get fair-weather members in for a work-out. The likelihood of them signing up for a class once there was higher, especially after the guilt of eating four slices of pizza came into play. It was a smart marketing move on Tyler’s part, Brian would give him that. 

“Number one, you’re here because I still pay you for some fucking reason.” Tyler smacked the back of Evan’s hand, scowling when Evan only clutched the crust harder and took the pain in order to rip a bite off the piece. 

“You can’t separate a man from his true love.”

“Funny, I don’t see Jonathan here.” Brian quipped back, snickering.

“Look who’s talking!” Evan’s childish reply didn’t deserve a response, so Brian ignored it by stuffing his own piece of pizza into his mouth. 

“Number two,” Tyler continued, glaring at both guilty parties. “Stop eating the customer’s food.”

“It’s closing time; the only one whose gonna come in now is Brock,” Brian said, glancing to the clock. It was close to 9:30, meaning they only had a half hour before the place officially shut down. A quick sweep of the gym saw two, maybe three, people inside. 

“And it’s so good.” Evan said, or that was what Brian thought he said, since pizza was muffling his words. 

“Number three; you both are hopeless losers if you can’t get the balls to ask out the men you’re in love with. I barely even tolerate Mini, but I was smart enough to make it official.” The last piece of information made Brian choke on his slice. Tyler and Craig were dating? Since when?! What alternate reality was he living in? And were they fucking, because Tyler still was just as grouchy as he’d been during his dry spell. Brian was going to have words with Craig. “And for the last fucking time, Brian, put your hat on.”

“Can’t,” he coughed out after swallowing the ball of dough lodged in his throat. “Gotta go get the weights ready for Brocky, bye!” 

“I’m going to fire you!” Tyler’s threat barely left a scratch on Brian as he tuned him out, humming when jogging through the gym to get to the weight rack. He’d set up time for Brock to work with him on free weights, which really was just a ploy to watch Brock’s bicep flex up close. All of Brock was handsome, but there was something about the transformation of his arm that really made Brian’s stomach heat with arousal. He wasn’t planning on getting anything out of it (other than a nice little image to think of in the shower), but Brian had already accepted that Brock could read a newspaper and he would somehow find it sexy. At least during this particular activity, he’d have a reason to ‘fix his form’.

“Hey.” Brian paused in moving one of the bars to the side when he heard a new voice call out to him, glancing over his shoulder at the newcomer. The man wasn’t out of shape, though the lack of definement on his muscles proved the gym wasn’t the first place he thought of going after work. It may have explained why he was calling out to Brian; he probably needed help with something he hadn’t learned to use yet.

“What can I help you with?” Brian asked, caught off guard by the once over he got. Sure, this wouldn’t be the first time someone had checked him out, but most did it from the corner of their eyes or behind machinery. The guy was bold, Brian would give him that. 

“I’m new to this gym. Was wondering how to sign up for training lessons.” 

“Most of our sessions are between the hours of 9am and 5pm; we rarely do one this close to closing. You can talk to Evan or Tyler at the front desk and see what trainer fits your timeframe,” Brian answered, giving a polite smile that stayed rigid with professionalism. Flirting was nice when he wasn’t dating someone, but Brian knew how to turn off his charm when he needed to. Here, seeing the obvious interest in Brian, he made sure to keep an appropriate distance from him when pointing out the front desk. “They’ll tell you all of our availability up there.” 

“Are you free now?” Persistence did not look good on this man, and Brian had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. From the corner of his gaze, he caught a familiar face, and his smile was much easier to throw out when seeing Brock giving him a wave.  

“Actually, I’m not. My boyfriend’s coming over to work out with me.” He’d said the title hundreds of times in his head, but it was the first that he’d let slip from his lips. And damn, did it feel good. He added a nod behind the man, who huffed and turned to inspect who Brian was talking about. Brian didn’t get to see the man’s reaction, because the joy that drained from Brock’s smile was far more important. Brock had never turned pale so fast in Brian’s presence, his wide eyes and quickened breathing both signs that something had gone terribly wrong. And fuck if people were watching (really it was just this one guy in the gym now), Brian needed to soothe him.  “Brock? Sweetheart, you okay?” 

“That’s who you’re dating?” The unnecessary bite to the man’s tone had Brian snapping his head back, his glare already reved up. 

“That a problem?” 

“He’s my ex-boyfriend.” A sentence had never made Brian’s stomach drop out and boil with rage at the same time. 

He was going to give Tyler a reason to fire him, after all. 

“You fucking asshole.” Brian’s hands grabbed the man’s shirt before slammed him into the mirror, fists shaking from how hard he was pressing into the other’s chest. “You fucking waste of life.” 

“Brian!” Brock’s cry of his name was heard, but for once, he didn’t feel soothed by it. Instead, the hatred and anger blistered in his skin, his teeth clenched together between scalding words of disgust.

“You vile dick. You, you, think you have any right to say shit to Brock? That you deserve anyone close to his calibre? Are you fucking crazy?” His arms slammed the man back again when he tried to respond, not wanting to hear his response. “I should knock every one of your stupid teeth out-”

“Please stop!” Brock’s chest was warm when he grabbed Brian from behind, his forehead pressed to the back of Brian’s neck. The arms around Brian were strong, but shaking, and it was the fact that Brock was trembling that made Brian finally let go of the other’s shirt. Brock pulled him back a couple feet before another hand grabbed him, turning him to face Evan and Tyler.

“Yo, calm down dude,” Evan tried to be calm about the outburst, but Tyler’s anger palpable in the air. 

“What the fuck was that? You can’t attack random ass people in the gym!” 

“He’s not random!” Brian snarled back, sending a scathing glare toward the man now staring at Brock. Brock, who was now pressed to his side, hadn’t noticed the look, too busy grabbing Brian’s hands to check his knuckles for bruises. But Brian had, and he wanted to rip the man’s eyeballs out of his head for even thinking he had the right. “That’s Brock’s ex.” 

“Oh shit.” Evan’s voice was quiet, but it seemed to echo from how silent the gym had become. Brock flinched next to him, but stayed silent on the topic, shaky fingers rubbing circles into Brian’s knuckles. 

“Jesus fuck, what is my life.” Tyler’s groan was followed by his hand sliding down his face, but Brian picked up on some of his ire washing away. He wished his anger had lowered at all, but seeing Brock’s ex open his mouth made fury rise through him again.

“Brock, you… you lost some weight.” It was insulting to hear Brock’s accomplishment said with such a surprised tone. Brian’s spine was ready to snap with how stiff it was, but he held himself still when Brock’s hand slipped to his lower back and rubbed along the vertebrae. 

“I’ve been working on being healthier,” Brock answered quietly, and Brian hated how hard it looked for Brock to make eye contact with the man who’d crushed him months ago. “It’s not really about the weight; just trying to be happy.” 

“That’s what I meant, that’s what I’ve always been telling you-” 

“No.” In an uncharacteristic rudeness that had Brian’s pride swelling, Brock steadied his feet and took a slow breath before continuing. “No, that’s not what you did. You tore me down and picked out everything you felt was wrong about me. It wasn’t about me being happy, it was about being good enough for you to date. You supported change; you just… you didn’t support me.”

“Well, I-” 

“But now,” Brock’s hand paused in its movement against Brian’s back, and he didn’t need any incentive to lean down and kiss Brock’s temple for reassurance. He felt Brock lean into the connection for a moment, as if trying to absorb Brian’s confidence in him. “I’m with someone who will.” 

“He’s only with you because you lost weight. If anything, I helped you. You’re never going to get better than you are now, which you only got to because I left you.” 

“Brock’s been the same fucking person since day one, you prick. Do you really think losing weight made him different somehow? How blind can you be? I swear to God- say something stupid like that again-” Brian was ready to launch across the floor to tackle the man to the ground, but in a blink of an eye, the man was yanked out of sight. Surprised, Brian glanced over to see that Tyler had the guy by the scruff of the neck. Using his height and strength, he manhandled the ex to the front of the gym, his scowl fierce. 

“Okay, I’m done with this. I have a no douchebag policy in my gym, and you’re well past that line. You’re done.” 

“Excuse me? I have a membership-”

“I’ll mail you a fucking refund.” Evan let out a cheer when Tyler tossed the man out of the gym, the doors slamming shut behind him. Brian wanted to feel anything but anger, but his blood was boiling. 

“Fuck!” Frustrated at himself for not chasing the man down, Brian pulled away from Brock, shoulders stiff when storming into the locker room. He barely made it past the door before he shouted again, hands slamming into the row of steel lockers lining the wall. His palms stung from the intense contact, but he didn’t care, needing to feel something other than pure rage. Why had that guy thought he had any right to make Brock feel worthless? All the emotional scars, the times Brock had lost sleep, the tears poured over that beautiful face were because of a piece of garbage like that? Another heavy roll of emotion washed over Brian, who clenched his hands and pounded against the lockers again. He leaned his forearms onto the cool metal, head no longer supported by his neck when he dropped it against the solid surface. Closing his eyes, Brian could feel his trembles trickling down his back, coasting along the skin light enough to create goosebumps in their path. 

“Brian.” The voice was cautious and soft, and Brian wanted to curl into it and never come out. He didn’t move from his tense position against the locker, hearing Brock move closer. “Tyler said to tell you he really did revoke his membership. Just deleted him from the database, too.” 

“Probably so I wouldn’t look up his address and beat the fock outta him.” And deep down, he knew Tyler’s caution was right on the money. 

“You wouldn’t really-”

“I would.” He took his time lifting his head to make sure that Brock could take in the serious expression on his face. “I would do it without a second thought.” 

“You shouldn’t do that.” Brock didn’t flinch away from the violence, but his concerned look was enough to settle some of the anger in Brian’s stomach. 

“After everything that focker did to you, I’d be more than happy to rearrange his face. Give me one reason I shouldn’t.” 

“Because that wouldn’t make me happy.”  Brian felt his lungs release the final wisps of tension at Brock’s soft touch, palms sliding over his cheeks to cradle his face in his hands.  “He’s a coward who would press charges, and then I’d be the one punished again. It’d just hurt me in the end.”

“Don’t want that,” Brian admitted without a fight. His shoulders slumped, leaning his weight onto the lockers. How did Brock ease his soul like this? Seconds ago, he’d been ready to tear through every house in the town in order to find the bastard who’d hurt the nicest man Brian had ever met. Now, nuzzling his nose against the soothing touch, he just wanted to hold Brock. But his body still shook with anger, and he didn’t trust himself to stay soft yet. Not the way Brock deserved. So he kept his forearms still, letting Brock take the lead in bringing their mouths together for a kiss that only lingered for a second. When Brock continued, the words caressed his lips like a whisper for nobody else to hear. 

“Neither do I. So we need to put this behind us.” 

“But he-”

“All that matters is that I’m here with you right now, not chasing after him to blow up his ego and make excuses for why other guys are stronger than him.” Brian could tell from the wistful way Brock’s tone shook that he’d been in those shoes far too many times before. “He can’t hurt me anymore. Maybe a year ago, seeing him would have ruined my confidence for days. But you helped me find my self-worth. I love myself too much to let him break me down again. And giving him any more of our time just feels wrong. So we’re not going to go after him; let his last memory of me be standing tall by your side without him. That’ll be worse than any bruise you’d give him, because it won’t ever fade. He’ll know I’m...” 

Brock’s confidence faltered, and Brian’s focus zeroed in on the quiver of the thumb that brushed over his cheek again. Brock was trying to be so strong, to be the support that Brian needed after he lost his cool over the ex. He was so amazing, and it shook Brian how often the beauty of Brock’s personality was hidden to make others feel better. Like Brian, right in this moment. And playing the bull-headed gym idiot others tended to see him as, he’d forgotten something important. 

“He’ll know you’re mine, sweetheart.” Brock’s face dusted with red was always Brian’s favorite image, and he felt a genuine grin catch the side of his lips at the sight. Still, he didn’t feel clear enough with his words. There was no way he was going to let Brock walk out of the locker room without knowing exactly what Brian wanted. Feeling in control of himself, Brian dropped one arm from the locker, his fingers roaming over the curve of Brock’s hip to pull him closer. Their chests met as Brian turned to face him, crowding him between his body and the lockers. “Tonight, he’s gonna go to sleep with the knowledge that I’m the luckiest son of a bitch in this town, because you’re my boyfriend.”

“Really?” The wide eyes and parted lips only lasted until Brian nodded. Then, like the first hint of sunlight over the horizon, Brock’s face bloomed with awe. His cheeks were stilly rosy, rounded and perfect to cradle the cute nose between them. His lips couldn’t hide his teeth from how brightly he smiled, eyes aglow with a warmth that would make fire jealous. Hands that others could find too clammy or pudgy were soft silk holding Brian’s cheek tightly, their foreheads meeting in the middle without words. Brian couldn’t stop himself from kissing Brock once, twice, three times more, his own relief growing with each second Brock didn’t deny the claim. And when he needed to pull away (because lungs didn’t care about romance), he made sure to use the space to answer Brock’s silly question.

“I’ve been head over heels for you since I saw you singing on the treadmill.” 

“Oh my God, Brian. You're the worst.” But the pure joy that came out of Brock’s watery laughter proved he didn’t mean it at all. Brian wanted to feel that giggle on his mouth, but before he could lean in again, a crackle shot through the air.

“Attention, love birds! Tyler and I would like to go home sometime before Christmas, so please stop fucking in the locker room. And clean any sex messes you make!” Mini’s loud cackle after the comment could be heard outside of the loudspeaker, and Brian laughed at the absurdity of their lives. Brock didn’t seem to find the humor in it, groaning before dropping his head onto Brian’s shoulder.

“I take it back; Craig’s the worst.” Despite rubbing Brock’s back to show sympathy, Brian couldn’t wipe the grin off his face if he tried. 

Because he and Brock were together.

No doubt about it.

And look at that; happy ending! I love these two, theyre so fun to write. <3 So I hope you’ve enjoyed this! Don’t forget about our Podcast tonight, come join and hang out, and as always, like, reblog, and let me know what you think! <3

[smolbeandrabbles]

Play It Again - Ned Kendall x Reader (Beautiful Kate)

@wltz-bby​ @happyskywhale​ #MendoTagSquad

It was always a Prequal/Sequal to “Somewhere on a Beach”. However it didn’t really turn out that way... You may however still read it as one.

Author’s Note: *ehem* So, Here’s another ‘Ned Kendall Has Been Stuck At The Bottom Of My Drafts For A Year’ fic. 😬

Also I started this one in December and it’s taken until now to finish it... 🙈

Asides from that, he did demand to be written in one sitting. So that’s how we are actually finished now! (Along with some persuasion from Amanda, of course!)

Disclaimer: Beautiful Kate Characters not mine / the titles of Ned’s novels are actually the titles of my mum’s novels 😁 / gif not mine / lyrics not mine

Premise: When you end up dating your favourite author you fear that telling him could lead to trouble. What you don’t know is Ned already knows, he’s just waiting for the right moment to tell you exactly how he feels...

Words: 7497

Warnings: Swearing / Sexual Connotations

________ She was sittin' all alone over on the tailgate Tan legs swingin' by her number plate I was lookin' for her boyfriend Thinkin', “No way! She ain't got one!?” Soon as I sat down I was fallin' in love Tryin' to pour a little sugar in her Dixie cup Talkin' over the speakers in the back of that truck She jumped up and cut me off She was like, oh my God, this is my song I've been listenin' to the radio all night long Sittin' 'round waitin' for it to come on and here it is She was like, come here boy, I wanna dance 'Fore I said a word, she was takin' my hand Spinnin' me around 'til it faded out And she gave me a kiss And she said, play it again, play it again, play it again And I said, play it again, play it again, play it again A little while later We were sittin' in the drive in my truck Before I walked her to the door I was scannin' like a fool AM, FM, XM too But I stopped real quick when I heard that groove Man, you should have seen her light up The next Friday night we were sittin' out under the stars You should have seen her smile when I brought out my guitar Yeah, play it again, play it again, play it again Somebody, play it again, play it again, play it again

---

Don't read the last page But I stay when you're lost and I'm scared and you're turning away Don't read the last page But I stay when it's hard or it's wrong or we're making mistakes I want your midnights But I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you And I will hold on to you

---

The party wasn’t as far out of the city as he was used to, but far enough for it to be quiet. She was sitting alone, eyes staring at a fixed point in front of her, legs swinging over her tailgate like she was waiting for something... or someone... There was an empty cup in her hand and she wasn’t in any way paying attention to the party. She caught his eye immediately – young, and pretty, and just his type. He grabbed the nearest bottle of god-knows-what alcohol and glanced around. There had to be a boyfriend, there simply had to be. No way she was out here tailgating alone-! He eyed every single man, even those clearly not single just to make sure; and yet no one was making a move towards her. No one but him. She turned his way as he approached, head tilted inquisitively and offered a friendly smile. Ned Kendall looked back to the party with a soft chuckle; “Some party, huh?” “You could say that – the music isn’t bad…” Her eyes flicked back to her cup, “Guess I could use a top up.” “Oh!” He smiled, perching on the edge of her tailgate; “Allow me.” He poured a sensible amount into her cup and placed the bottle between them; “You here alone?” “Mhm.” She simply nodded, taking a sip; it wasn’t bad by all accounts, “Why? You lookin’ to change that?” Her smile was amused however, rather than her looking at him accusingly. Ned laughed, looking away from her, “I guess I just wanted to keep you company over here alone.” “Oh. I see.” There was a pause before she was laughing too, and patted the spot next to her, “Well, if you’re gonna do that, you might as well sit up here properly, …?” “Ned.” “Ned.” She nodded, taking another sip as he hoisted himself up into her truck bed, legs swinging in time with hers, “I’m Y/N.” You knew you probably wouldn’t be able to drive your truck back home, you’d already had a few too many trying to enjoy yourself before he’d shown up. Parties like this weren’t really your thing, but you did like getting out in the middle of nowhere to drink and tailgate from time to time – the music would be loud, and usually it was to your taste, as it was tonight. You didn’t ever particularly look for company, or to be hit on – the only time you’d been to these accompanied was with boyfriends past, and a few friends. But most of the people here tonight were unknown to you – a friend of a friend of a friend on some social media group had mentioned it, and you’d had nothing better to do. Still, as you laughed and talked with Ned in the back of your truck, you couldn’t say you weren’t enjoying being here with someone. He was sweet, and his flirting was as smooth as his pouring, every so often he’d intersperse a dirty joke or two just to see how you’d react. And you knew what he was doing, but that didn’t stop you from laughing and covering your face. “Oh God, that was bad!” “But you laughed!” “It was funny, but it wasn’t good!” The more you looked at him, the more you knew you’d already met him, or seen him around somewhere. Ned’s face was so familiar, but also just out of reach. You couldn’t place exactly who he was; a guy I’ve loved on the dance floor? A friends ex? A friends fling? I know this face… you weren’t the one night stand type, so he wasn’t one of yours. You were preparing to ask him exactly where you knew him from, maybe he’d approached you because he also already knew you, but you were just as soon distracted by the song change. “OH!” You leapt up – cutting him off mid-sentence; “It’s my favourite song!” Ned was just a little startled by the movement, not having a lot of time to react to the information before you turned back to him; “Come here, come dance with me.” His hesitation was momentary, and even as he asked if you were sure, Ned was sliding out of the back of your truck, hand out to take yours. “YES! I’m sure! Come on! This track is the best!!!” And, as you pulled him closer to you and let him wrap you in his arms as he danced with you – maybe a little closer than appropriate, Ned wasn’t one for disagreeing with you. Especially as you were clearly having the time of your life, carefree little smile on your face, the way you danced and laughed even harder than you had been before – clinging to him as he held you. How could he not love this? Ned had only come out here to get away from it all, and certainly get away from his desk and his writing for a while; at least to get out of his head. Maybe get a little drunk – but then here you were, and he wasn’t sure he’d quite meant for his evening to end holding someone. Ned thought you might let him go as the song ended but you didn’t, instead you pulled him in and laced your hands with his for the next song, and the next, and the next until things seemed to be winding down. This wasn’t really your kind of thing either, but there was nothing wrong with letting a hot guy spin you around in the middle of nowhere every once in a while – sometimes you just needed to take one or two steps out of line. You let him go with a giggle, he kept your hand in his and, as you didn’t protest, he assumed you also weren’t ready for this night to end just yet; “Thank you, Ned, I hope I didn’t wear you out too bad!” His smile was gentle; “Nah, I should be thanking you, I don’t think I’ve done anything like that for a while…” He glanced around, “What you say we get out of here.” “Ah-!” You pointed back to your truck, “I don’t think I’m legally allowed to drive.” Ned shrugged; “Well, I’m not doing too bad.” You weren’t sure that was true, but he seemed to be holding up better than you were. You already knew you were at the point where you’d do something stupid, like try to walk through a barrier to the subway without remembering to put your ticket in; that’d happened a few times before now.  “I could… take you somewhere?” You giggled again; “Is this just a ploy to get my address?” He smirked; “Guess that depends, does it come with your number?” You bit your lip through your smile with a single nod, yeah that was pretty well played; “I mean, I guess it could…” By all accounts he drove pretty well; although that raised its own questions: high alcohol tolerance, didn’t actually drink too much, you’d drunk waaay too much and therefore comparably he drove well… or just too used to driving in the state he was in. Not that you really wanted to dwell on that thought when you’d had such a good night. Ned pulled into your drive way and shut the engine off; “Oh. Yeah, nice neighbourhood.” He nodded, “Little better than a high rise in the city!” You scoffed, “You say that, but that also means you make enough money to afford a high rise in the city.” “Eh. You have a good point.” He turned to you, “Can I walk you to your door?” You were a little wary of where that could lead, but said yes anyway – and found yourself holding hands with him as you ascended your front steps. You both stood in silence again, studying each other – and wondering who was going to make the first move. He cleared his throat; “So, uh…” Ned rummaged in his back pocket, taking out his mobile, “Do I get that number?” You couldn’t help smiling and pulled yours out of your bag, “Do I get yours in return?” “MHM!” He couldn’t have taken your phone from you more eagerly if he’d tried, returning it to you just as quick. “Maybe…” he paused for a moment “Hey, Y/N, maybe we could do something sometime soon? Not exactly like tonight but, you know, and if you’d need a place to crash-” He hesitated once more at the intrigued look on your face and then thought better of it, “Well, we’ll discuss.” “I’d like that, I’d like to do something with you, Ned I think it’d be fun!” He was clearly happy you’d said that, “Alright! Excellent! And now we have numbers so… don’t- don’t be a stranger… Uh, you gonna be already getting your truck tomorrow?” “Yeah, don’t worry I’ve done it before.” You waved away his concern with a smile of gratitude “Cool. Well, you know if you need any help, let me know, I’m around.” “Oh! Thank you, I will!” Although he still didn’t disappear off your porch, and you weren’t sure you wanted him to leave it just like that either. In the end you couldn’t be sure which one of you moved first, all you knew is his lips were on yours, and your hands were back in his. It was an appropriately short kiss, but still a good one. And as he stepped back towards his car, you knew that was exactly how he was going to leave it. “Goodnight, Y/N.” “Goodnight, Ned, thank you – I had a great evening!” “Me too.” He nodded, and left you with a smile.

 You shook your head gently, still smiling as you closed the door after watching him walk down your porch steps - hand up in farewell. That kiss decided it wanted to linger on your lips, and him on your mind. So you let them. Ned - a name you also recognised, but you weren't sure where from. You'd figure it out in the morning. His face was so familiar, but you couldn't quite put your finger on either right now. When things were a little less cloudy for you, you were certain you’d remember. You changed for bed and grabbed yourself a glass of water. Tapping a text out to the number he'd given you ’Thank you for the great evening! Goodnight x’ knowing he'd have to drive home, you didn't expect a message back - but that didn't mean you weren't hoping to hear your phone buzz before you drifted off. It did, and you smiled but were too tired to pick it up - that didn't matter, you'd get it in the morning and it'd give you something good to wake up to. ***

 When you awoke your head was aching as much as you expected and you reached for your clock with a groan; the day was already nicely into double figures. You picked up your phone, squinting at the screen as it lit to relay what you’d missed.

Not only had you received a goodnight, but also a good morning text. Which made you smirk. Clearly he was serious about this being more than just a one night out, kiss on the front porch thing.

 You sat up - taking a sip of water that you had to thank yourself for placing on your bedside table. Luckily, you had put the glass down before you had a mini heart attack and almost screamed. The phone was dropped, and fell with an equally dramatic clatter.

 When you weren’t out and about at parties, your usual evening was spent curled up with a book, and you were currently working your way back through your favourite authors entire back catalogue before the release of his latest novel. So, there was currently a half finished one sitting on your bedside table. Complete with a little authors biography on the back. Which was fine. If it wasn’t for the accompanying picture.

You picked the book up in disbelief. No wonder his name and face was so fucking familiar to you. Because he was staring back at you now. Whether greatest moment of aligned stars or sheer dumb luck - you’d just pulled Ned Kendall. He was Ned Fucking Kendal! Your favourite author. And he’d just text you ‘Good Morning Beautiful x’

***

 You’d gone from hanging out casually at weekends to dating pretty quickly – although you didn’t think it was ever going to be anything other than dating, because his flirting was furious. Any time or reason Ned could think to see you, he did. You worked at a publishing house, but not his, as an editor – mostly factual books and biographies. All very interesting, but you loved escaping to the world of fiction. When he eventually confessed he was a writer you played dumb, wanting to pretend you had no idea who he was, that you’d never read a single word of anything he’d ever published. Although you had, many times over. Ned immediately recommended some of his favourites of his own work, and you said you’d have to check them out sometime. The truth was you didn’t want to look like a raving fan who was dating him just because of who he was. You didn’t want him to think that was the kind of girl you were. Because that wasn’t true at all, his name and his money – although you couldn’t be sure exactly how much Ned made – didn’t really mean a thing to you, you’d fallen for his personality and the man he was now. He didn’t write like the man he was – unless something had happened to change that. The release of his newest novel was immanent and part of you was holding off until then, so you could read that ‘first’. You already had a feeling that it was going to be like nothing else he’d ever written, and therefore be reviewed as such. But as much as you loved all his work, you were excited to see where he would take things now.  

However, even you couldn’t contingency plan for the scenario that Ned would find out for himself. On a quieter day, when you were busy in the kitchen having invited him over for dinner, Ned became curious in your bookshelf. You’d left him in your living room with a good glass of wine whilst you just checked on a few things, and he had nothing better to do than a bit of discovery. He wondered what kind of books you liked reading, what was your genre of choice, who were your favourite authors, what could he use on your shelves to get you to springboard into reading one of his own works. Ned knew, of course, that you wanted to wait for the new one – but part of him wanted you to read the darker parts of him, because if you could do that maybe this relationship would last. He wasn’t sure he could guarantee he wouldn’t go back there; he was certainly capable. A simple scan of the spines had him smiling, remembering a dig from one of his exes, ‘Noone reads anymore, my ass...!’  He ran his fingertips over them, every author listed alphabetically, and he nodded along impressed by the scale of the collection. Your non-fiction occupied the top few rows, but everything else was fictional, your genre ranging from romance to thriller to horror and back again. Ned liked that; you had range. And taste, damn this girl’s got taste! His smile only getting broader as he passed several of his own favourite authors, especially if they were books he’d particularly enjoyed. Ned found himself thinking he was probably onto a winner here – you were incredibly well read. But suddenly he paused, and moved away from the shelf, frowning like he wasn’t sure he was reading this right. Dragging his eyes back to the beginning of the row, he realised he was; and Ned’s heart gave a sudden jolt that he couldn’t explain. Kendall, Kendall, Kendall, Kendall, Kendall... For the entire shelf. His eyes flicked to the kitchen, but you showed no signs of moving from there, he swallowed and looked to them once more. Ned realised very suddenly that you knew exactly who he was. EXACTLY who he was. But why hadn’t you told him that-!? Did you not want to tell him that for your own reasons? Should he therefore continue the game you were playing, as if he didn’t know you knew? This wasn’t just one or two he’d recommended you; this was everything he’d ever released, and judging by the fact most were also hardback, and the covers, a fair few were first editions. Better than that, nearly every single one of them was pristine; you also cared so much about your books. He understood that, though, he’d seen you read once or twice and you always made sure not to crease the spine. Except one. There was just one with his name on the spine where it was creased to the point where the title was barely readable. Your favourite...? He would think so. Read so often that it couldn’t be helped that it would at some point be ruined...

He smiled and slid it from the shelf; amazingly the cover was still pretty intact. Past Imperfect – he wondered what it was about this one that you loved so much? Maybe one day he’d get the opportunity to ask you about it. In fact, as he held it in his hands, nothing was stopping him from waltzing into your kitchen and leaning against the wall with a smirk; ‘Oh! So you knew I was a writer then!?’ But something about that seemed wrong. You wanted to come at this at your own pace, and it wasn’t fair for him to force that confession out of you. However, maybe Ned could help you out. He turned, and scanned the room again, taking the book with him, looking for a pen. He grabbed the first one he could – making sure it worked on the back of his hand before opening the front cover. Ned thought for a minute, tapping the pen against his lip, and then smirked as he leant on the table to write the perfect message, accompanied by his signature. With that, and with you still not here, he closed the book and slotted it back into its rightful place on the shelf. Because he knew if there was one book of his you were going to pick up and re-read, it’d be that one. Stepping away again he took a deep breath, and realised how good he felt. You were a fan of his. You knew his darker parts because it was all right here in front of him, and you’d come into his life now – at the beginning of a brand new chapter. That made him even more excited that you were about to accompany him on this journey; and with the biggest grin on his face he walked into the kitchen; “Hey, babe, do you need some help?” “Oh, no you don’t need to-” You turned from the counter and paused at the look on his face, how happy he was suddenly, “What?” Although you could hardly help but mirror his smile. He gave a shrug, “Nothing…” Although that couldn’t be further from the truth; “I guess I’m just so in love!” and then, Ned knew that he was. ***

In and around the release date of A Few Words Too Many Ned had a lot of press to do, and it wasn’t something he’d ever particularly enjoyed – yet, this time it was all very different. And most of all, he liked asking you to things. He’d known the truth for a good few months now, and he was trying to bring you into as much of his writing world as he possibly could. He’d already made you promise to read excerpts from his latest manuscript, and as you were an editor he wondered if he’d be able to persuade you to be his. Maybe. Ned thought you just as much might be dying to ask – under that façade. But he didn’t push or force any issue, or try to get you to trip up. He did, however, invite you to a book talk, you’d already been to the release party with him, and accompanied him to a couple of pre-release interviews. Even though you worked for a publishing house, seeing it from the point of the view of an author was fascinating. Tonight you wouldn’t be sitting with Ned, but in the audience listening to your boyfriend talk about both his latest release and his back catalogue. You had some burning questions of your own, but, also you’d not read a word of the new one yet – despite him offering to get you a copy of it. You were much happier to support him by buying one; which you would in your own time. Also, this was the first night it would be available to the public, so you wanted to read it at the same time everyone else got to. Ned couldn’t lie that he was a little disappointed in the evening as a whole. Because whilst he was up there answering everyone else’s desperate questions, the ones he really wanted to answer were yours, and there was no way you didn’t have any. You were content to sit in silence, taking it all in. He might have been your favourite author, but you had never been to a talk by him before. And you knew Ned was fascinating as it was, but hearing him talk about his books with as much passion as you had for reading them was truly another experience all together. And just the difference between this bad boy public image – the kind of man who would write and live something like ‘Half His Luck’ and the way he was with you (although if you were to confess, sometimes when it got hot and heavy between you he was a little like that) were very nearly worlds apart. But Ned was nice, he was still personable and his sense of humour was like a fire cracker. You liked hearing everyone else laugh at the cheeky way he answered certain questions, and how they all held on to every word as he got deep on occasion. You were proud of him, and at least you would be able to tell him that much without giving it all away.

At the end of the night, after you’d sat there beaming, watching him sign for everyone who’d purchased a copy of his book and how much of an sweetheart he was 1:1 with his fans - how he took time to talk to them, take photographs and answer any final questions they had – Ned checked his watch and took your hand, announcing he had reservations at one of his favourite places down town. That was good with you, you realised just how hungry you were. “Did you enjoy that?” “I had a lot of fun!” You nodded, “And you? It looked like you enjoyed the evening. You’re certainly good with your fans!” “…Yeah.” Ned looked bashful for a moment before his eyes locked on yours, wishing you’d understand quite the significance of what you were saying. “It was good, I mean… I just wish you’d ask questions.” For a moment you went red, but recovered well – “I suppose I better get reading if I want to ask you questions as good as they all did-!” “Yeah, a few spoilers that hopefully you’ll forget!” “Oh! Then I hope I do!” You laughed, holding his hand a little tighter and winding yourself around his arm, head on his shoulder, “I should read this one now it’s out, too…” it was a quiet muse. Ned took a deep breath; maybe then he’d finally get to press the issue of your bookcase with you. “Yeah, I suppose you should!” “I bet your writing is incredible. I bet all your work is amazing! The way you talk about it is…” You trailed for a moment, “I can tell how much you care – about how much of you is in your work. So, I… I guess I get to discover that.” He pulled you into a kiss, it was a sudden moment, and Ned couldn’t help himself. That was damn near as close to a confession as he was going to get and he knew that – still, it was the best thing you could have possibly said. And you got to revel in him once more. He let you go with an embarrassed chuckle; “I’m sorry I just- Thank you. I think… I think you’re gonna really love ‘em, Y/N.” And the sooner the better, because all you’d done was make Ned want to discuss every single little detail with you.

 Dinner was delicious – if there was something else Ned knew; it was exactly where to eat in this town – and as he drove you back to his place Ned kept his hand in yours. The radio was on quietly, and neither of you were really paying attention to it, until a familiar tune began playing. “Holy shit!” You sat up, overjoyed and turned the dial. Ned couldn’t help how hard he laughed; “Oh! Y/N! I think it’s your song!”

***

Ned had always been right, eventually you were going to go back to your favourite of his novels. You’d finally purchased your own copy of A Few Words Too Many – and he kept eagerly asking if you’d got very far. You continued teasing him that you’d only read a couple of pages, which for him was more than enough, and you were very reserved in the way you gushed over his writing style – yet were certainly gushing. And Ned was overjoyed at that; knowing this was just a taste of what he’d get out of you once you figured out he knew. In reality you were probably around half way through. It was getting raved about; this was the ‘one where he found himself’, the style was lighter, cleaner, Ned’s hope; rather than dark and murky despair that all his readers had grown accustomed to – where he questioned everything. They weren’t wrong, this was a different Ned Kendall; though his use of language was still gorgeous, it flowed with a different type of confidence and it was damn near unputdownable – and you were dating him! Every time you’d read another incredible line you’d have to mark it down, and sometimes it had you nearly screaming, or crying – on occasion they were very happy reactions. Somehow when you were absorbed in his world building, you could hardly believe that you were lucky enough to be with this man… And you knew that soon enough, you would have to confess to him, because you couldn’t keep this to yourself much longer.

 What you had never counted on was Ned being curious about your taste in authors for himself. It probably should have occurred to you, but never did. So you found out he knew in a completely different way than either of you expected. You had a friend of yours staying over for a girls night in, and you hadn’t seen her for a while – given that she lived on nearly the other side of the country  - she was one of your very best friends, and therefore knew nearly everything about you; including that Ned Kendall was ‘the greatest writer of all time’. To quote yourself. (When he wasn’t writing hilariously trashy erotic romance novels, although you had to be honest you enjoyed those too.) “Did you see your favourite author had a new book out-!?” “Hmm?” “That Ned Kendall bloke.” “Oh! Yeah-! I did...” It wasn’t common knowledge amongst your friends that Ned and yourself were dating, for obvious reasons. “Have you read it yet?” “No...” Well not all of it, you sighed and looked to your shelf; “Whenever I read his new stuff it always makes me go back to these. Don’t get me wrong his new books are good, but, there’s something incredibly haunting about the way he used to write.... a man... trying to tell you a secret... yet, never quite committing to it. A guy with a lot of complex issues. And I always felt that.” “So, would you recommend any-! I’ve never read them so, try me out!” You automatically went for Past Imperfect and held it out to her; “This is my favourite. And I go back to it time, and time, and time again...” “Why?” She gave a gentle smile of encouragement, genuinely curious as to your choice. “Just read the first page, you’ll know exactly why. It’s like suddenly an author was speaking to my soul. I can’t explain it...” You took a deep breath, feeling like you were spilling secrets you shouldn’t have been “I’ll, uh, get us some drinks!” Suddenly you were called back as she flipped through pages; “Have you met him-!?” “What?” You stepped through, eyebrow raised, what would cause her to ask that? That nearly panicked you – paparazzi shots? Was Ned even famous enough for that kind of thing-!?! “Met him-! You met him!? You never said-!?” You were about to deny it fervently, but were just as confused by her question when she turned the book around. You crossed to her, eyes wide, and grabbed it: “Y/N, all my love always, Ned x” You turned back to your book shelf suddenly horrified. Ned knew. He knew! He knew and he never said anything-?! Dammit-! Of course a writer would be interested in the kinds of books his significant other read! Maybe he was thinking about getting you to read that work for himself!! Is THAT why he’d been so disappointed at the book signing-!? When had he done this? More importantly, why had it taken you SO long to find it-!? “Y-Yeah.” You turned back to her, “I, uh, I went to a book signing when the latest one came out…” The temperature of your body was rising and you were already bright red, a dead give-away to mark you out as a liar – even though it wasn’t strictly untrue. She raised an eyebrow, and you knew nothing was about to get past her; “Y/N.” Or that tone of voice – now you were in trouble “And, uh… Uh…” You stammered, covering your flushed face with the book, “I’m… dating him!” “You’re WHAT-!?!” She yelled it, and dragged you down onto the sofa, “And you kept it from me-!? Bitch, hell no! Details NOW!!!”

***

Given the nature of your relationship and how much you liked being around each other, it wasn’t long until you found yourself on a lunch date with him. Ned was on a permanent high right now as it was; the novel was doing incredibly well, and that was spilling over into the way he talked to you, the way he texted you – even in the way you tangled together under his sheets. You wondered if you were about to add to that high. Well, you’d have to get through your own embarrassment first. Ned waved enthusiastically across the restaurant at you, sliding off his shades. Today he’d opted to sit outside, and it was a glorious day, warm with a good breeze, so he’d chosen the table well. “Hey gorgeous, how you doing?” He stood to kiss you in greeting, which meant you were blushing immediately. “I’m... I mean if I wasn’t such an idiot I’d be doing better, however, in context of the question I’m good!” You tucked your chair in as he sat down again, eyebrow raised; “Oh?” You immediately turned to your bag, and pulled the book out, dropping it on the table. You didn’t dare look at his face as you tapped your fingernails on the cover; “You- I- When did you do this!? H-How long have you known!?” He chuckled, leaning forward to trying to get you to look at him, taking your hands when you didn’t; “A good while, we hadn’t been together so long. But I knew it, I knew that’d be the novel you went back to.” Your head in fact dipped further, “Oh god, I feel so fucking stupid!!” “For not saying anything?” Ned titled his head, “Babe, you had your reasons I’m sure… now come on, look at me. You’re far too beautiful to show your face to just the table!” Although you were glowing, and all across your face read your embarrassment as you looked back to him slowly; “I-I guess I didn’t want you to think that I was with you… just because.” “Now where would you get that idea?!” He pulled your hand to his lips and kissed your knuckles, “Now I get to talk to you about my work, and you get to ask every question you’ve ever been dying to ask me ever! And thank god!” You shook your head, “You weren’t disappointed in the event, just in me for not asking anything…” You blinked a few times, “I should have realised that.” “Baby, it’s okay. Do it now. Do it now!” “You’re not mad!?” “God, no…” He shook his head, “Frustrated. Bursting to get you to confess – yes maybe – but not mad. I knew in good time we’d get there. And I will certainly be drinking to it!” Ned let your hands go and grabbed the wine menu. “…Will you be mad if I tell you how much of A Few Words Too Many I’ve read?” Ned glanced up slowly from the list; “You finished it yet?” “VERY nearly.” His eyes narrowed, but he smirked; “I knew a few pages was just a bluff. Real question is are you enjoying it as much as everyone else appears to be.” You leant on your hand and mused for a second, before smiling to answer him; “I am. It’s different for you… I guess I really fell for the darker spells in your past. But this… There’s so much hope in it. You learned a lot, I suppose, and this is the you now, that I get to be with. OH my god, though! Some of the lines and your humour?! It’s your best work for a while. Not… that I don’t enjoy everything you publish.” “I’ve come a little way since that one…” He nodded towards the book you’d placed on the table, but you noticed the faint blush now appearing on his cheeks; “Still, thank you. That’s very kind. I wondered what you’d think – you clearly reread everything.” You nodded, “Every time I find something else I never noticed before - your writing is quite honestly unique in that respect. At least from what I’ve read – you have anecdotes and maybe experience that allows you to write such a way but this-” You drew the novel to you; “The man in this, the man who wrote this, has affected me in a way no other work has. And now you’ve signed it!?” Your sigh was gentle, “I mean, I just want to sit here and thank you forever…”  You covered your mouth suddenly, as if you’d been missing the point; “But-! NED! I just…! Oh my god, I know I should have said something! And you COULD have said something! But this makes me so glad you didn’t.” “What I wrote was okay, then?” You tucked your hair back and blushed again at his sweet smile, looking away from his amused blue eyes once more; “All my love always?” Did he want that? From you-!? How could that not be okay? “I just hope that we get to feel that way about each other… for a very long time.”

 ***

And so months’ worth of dating became years – and eventually you moved into that very same high rise apartment; and for the record, you still didn’t see what he was complaining about. You’d gotten the opportunity now to first round edit some scenes that he liked showing you, and a couple of his manuscripts. Ned still hadn’t released anything new for a while – because he said nothing was striking him with real inspiration. A couple of the manuscripts were even already finished, but, he said they just didn’t feel right to him - they needed something a little more and he’d come back to them. Then inspiration struck him from the most obvious place. Because you were right in front of him – and your relationship was a story in itself, even if he put it in fiction and changed it around. You were the kind of woman who he could easily make into a romantic lead everyone would fall for – and he could do right by a character like you. Suddenly Ned went from writing just a little every day, or every so often, to writing nearly the whole day through, even late into the night; when night became day again. You let him get on with his process, and supported him through it as best you could – which he couldn’t have appreciated more. One evening though, you leant on the back of his chair as he read over his latest scene, and had to enquire; “Who is keeping you away from me? She better be nice – you’ve written some truly awful women.” Though by now you knew a lot more about his past; and exactly why he’d written such things, “Mind you, your men aren’t usually angels either…” You mused, resting your head on his. Ned chuckled gently, reaching behind him to pull you onto his lap, “You’ll have to read it and find out.” “Awww-!” You whined, winding your arms around him and kissing his temple as he flipped the page, “Will you at least tell me what it’s about?” “You.” And he sounded deadly serious, still looking at the page as he said it You scoffed for a moment, “Me?” “Uh huh.” “Oh no! Come on! What’s it really about!” You pouted as his tease. Ned only smiled; “I said what I said!” “Alright-!” You threw your hands up but kissed him again, “Keep your secrets!” You continued to sit with him as he read however, head in the crook of his neck, running your hands over his chest affectionately. But every so often you’d chuckle. Because as IF, right!? Why would Ned want to write about you? What was special enough to be his muse in a novel like the kind he wrote? You supposed he’d make you wait until the final manuscript to find out what it was really about – but that joke in itself made you desperate to find out more. It was a couple of days later, when you were heading off to work, that Ned presented you with a few pages tied together in red ribbon; “Oh?” You took them from him delicately, “What’s this?” “Just a scene – you wanted to know a little about it. Well, I think this could be the one, so,” He nodded to it, “I wanted you to have the first piece, see what you think!” “Aw.” You held it close to your heart for a moment, before pushing up on your toes to kiss him; “Thank you!” “You’re welcome-! It’ll give you a work break.” “Ohhh-!” You grinned, opening the door, “I don’t think it’ll last until my break!!” You blew him one last kiss, “See you later Ned! I love you!” He held his hand up to wave, “Goodbye, Y/N! Have a good day – I’ll still be here when you get back!” You very nearly cackled; “Aw, heck I know! Write well Ned Kendall!” “God, I hope so!” He laughed after you, only closing the front door when he heard the elevator ping to announce it was picking you up. Ned knew exactly what he’d given you, the scene was a lot more subtle than most of what he’d written – where it would be more obvious that his muse was indeed you. But you’d been so adamant that he was joking with you that he didn’t want you to get it right away, Ned wanted you to read the novel and suddenly realise and gasp, and snap the novel shut, and maybe even throw it at him – and then cry. Sometimes you cried when you read his work; and there wasn’t a time that Ned Kendall loved you more than the raw emotion you displayed when you were transported away by a book. This one was special though, this wasn’t like any other novel he’d written that you’d loved. This one was his gift to you. He sat back in his chair for a moment, and then turned towards his guitar; it was cheap and worn, but he’d got it for only one specific reason. That favourite song of yours seemed to follow the both of you everywhere, at every single moment of significance. With this particular book being written, and another significant anniversary of yours coming up, Ned had taken time out of writing to learn that song, so that he might one day (soon, he hoped) be able to play it to you. He reached out to pick it up and made himself comfortable, smiling at the thought of you – and what your reaction would be when all of this finally came together. This would be his gift to you, too.

***

When it was finally a few days before he distributed it – you realised that Ned had hardly let you read any more of it than that single ribbon tied scene. And you’d never seen someone so excited as he was when the box of first editions arrived at his front door. Until he made you sit down. And placed a copy in front of you. It wasn’t in stores yet – meaning that this one was the very first book handed out. And Ned wouldn’t take no for an answer this time, you knew you couldn’t refuse him the gift. Play It Again You pulled it towards you, thick paper, and significant in volume – possibly one of the longest he’d written – hardcover, new book smell with that beautiful glossy cover. Your hands shook in anticipation, and he looked so proud. But also like you might break his heart at any moment. You looked for his go ahead to open it, but Ned had suddenly lost the ability to speak; all he could do was nod. You took a deep breath, and opened to the dedications page. Immediately your heart jumped from your chest, and you thought all your emotions were about to come out at once; culminating in tears. You were about to cry all over a brand new book. The first few lines were lyrics you recognised well, to your favourite song. The lines you loved the most. And underneath, in printed ink: “For Y/N, For all your support. From the very first lines I wrote, until now, I don’t think I’ve ever loved, or been loved the way you love me. All my love, always Ned x” Beneath his heartfelt dedication, fresh ink from his flowing signature. Just his name this time around. You covered your mouth for a moment, because you couldn’t speak either. This one was dedicated to you, in printed ink. Permanently. That message was there for all the world to see – everyone’s copy was going to have this exact same text. And you were speechless. You hid your face for a moment as your tears began to flow, but you knew they were happy ones – and his were too. Because Ned couldn’t watch you read this without crying either. “I love you so much, Y/N. How could this have been for anyone but you!?” You nodded, and he understood that you couldn’t form words yet – taking your hands in his, he sat opposite you, it all suddenly a little too much to take. Eventually you shakily managed a sentence, looking back to his face; “W-What is it about!?” For one, you needed to know the significance of those lyrics. Just for you, or because they meant something to the story? Ned wiped his eyes, with a beaming smile; “... You already asked me that...” “I did?” “I said I was writing about you. You said you didn’t believe me; you really should have...” Your eyes widened and you immediately flipped the book over. “No! No! Don’t read the end-! That’s cheating!” He places his hands over yours and you bit your lips together; “Why, Ned, what happens at the end...?” “Well,” he smiled again, “that would be telling.” His face was thoughtful for a second, “Let’s just say... this writer hopes it doesn’t have an ending.” You pulled your hands from his to lean on them, gazing up at him with sudden adoration. And your sigh was equally dreamy, “Well, I guess this reader also hopes there’s no end...”

--- Thank you for reading my write-r! 🙏💜

[mousehole5000]

tgcf lb the third chapter 14 - 21

okay hit me with the lore

Xie Lian hadn’t spoken his next words before the teenager said, “He dug it out himself.” Startled, Xie Lian asked, “Why?” The teen replied, “He went mad.” -digging out your own eye okay worm

If there were demons in this world who would scam or entice the hearts of people, then there would also be humans who would fool demons. There would exist much ongoing exploitation and betrayal. He said, “If it was handed over in infatuation, yet only results in broken bones and scattered ashes, it would indeed render one’s heart to feel aggrieved.” okay also kind of dope i love it when humans and demons get some back and forth. also this feels like it could be foreshadowing

awwww xie lian giving away his only steamed bun what a sweetheart

everyone keeps telling me this book is also a tragedy but now im just laughing at the visual of headless ghosts carrying their heads around and bickering

chronic bad luck and chronic good luck meet... what will happen to our heroes...

Xie Lian raised his head, softly saying, “You are tenacious, extremely dedicated, and despite many bitter encounters with frustrations and dashed hopes, you’ve stayed true to your heart. More often than not, your misfortunes will turn into blessings, calamity to prosperity. You will continue to have good fortune, my friend, your future is radiant and will blossom spectacularly.” All the things he said were made up on the spot, so they were complete nonsense. - fhklasjksldfdfh i know this is a ploy but still this was funny. also why didnt xie lian try to pick up palm reading from another source when he fell? are they just not as good? is he pretentious like that? either way i hope we find out more about what he got up to during those 800 years

Xie Lian felt rather skeptical on how he only ate half a bun for the duration of the entire day. If young people took advantage on their good health like this, sooner or later they would surely end up passed out on the streets. - xie lian is directly calling me out for my quarantine eating habits im sorry king ill do better

Previously, it had always been Xie Lian telling other people ‘it’s alright, it’s okay’. Today was the first time he heard those words spoken back to him, leaving him with an indescribable feeling. - awww okay this got me

oh my god there was only one bed

again comedy of the year. “oh you’re putting up a curtain that repels evil thats so interesting. on an entirely unrelated note im going to make you a door”

Brushing past him, San Lang pulled out the bamboo chopstick. He swayed it twice in front of him before saying, “It got dirty. I’ll throw it out later.” - edgy bastard moments begin

Xie Lian could hear the deliberation win Ling Wen’s tone. One thing he could be sure of was that she must be in a difficult situation. He said, “Okay, I understand. Since this is inconvenient for you, then there’s no need for you to say more. In addition, the two of us never had this conversation in private.” - awwwww considerate crown prince xie lian

“What, do you guys know him?” Xie Lian said. “……” Fu Yao coldly replied, “No we don’t.” - all men do is lie. also love the petty little broom dispute. i know its actually quite intentional and that only makes it funnier. also guys stop wrecking xie lian’s home he just got it fixed up!! if anyone breaks the new door ill be highly disappointed in them

Xie Lian nodded his head. “That’s right. I wrote it. If you guys continued fighting in there, I would be pleading for reconstruction instead of renovation. Then, I would really have no dignity left.” - see xie lian said if youre not going to contribute to it then please dont fight in my monastery its been through enough

Earlier, when Fu Yao had entered, he hadn’t gotten to examine the interior furnishings. Now, after standing in this crooked, shabby house for quite a while, he was able to see it all. As if his entire body, from head to toe, was uncomfortable, he asked, “You live in a place like this?” Xie Lian handed him a chair and said, “I’ve always lived in these kinds of places.” - ive seen this quote before and it really is just that “damn bitch you live this like?” meme. amazing

Fu Yao did not sit, his expression also turning rigid for a second. It was hard to tell what the look on his face was. It seemed nine parts blank shock and one part schadenfreude. - THIS IS MY NEW FAVORITE EXPRESSION I WOULD LOVE TO SEE IT

In the desert, the difference in temperature between night and day was drastic. During the night, the freezing temperature was cold enough to seep into one’s bones, yet it was still tolerable. But come daytime, it was a whole other experience. The sky here was incredibly clear and expansive with dashes of white clouds, but likewise, the blazing sun was just as fierce. The group continued to walk, but the more they walked, the more it felt as though they were going into an enormous steamer basket. The hot air emitted from deep within the earth felt as though a day’s worth of walking could steam a person alive. - YES DESERTS YES

okay xie lian is so kind and so generous? he keeps giving stuff away when he has almost nothing and making sure that others are taken care of first..... love him

Xie Lian watched them put on airs. But when such airs were discarded, they finally got physical. Separated by the space of the table, the three of them fought with the poor water bottle, pushing it back and forth. - if these three really are who i think they are this is even funnier. the very clear toying thats going on is truly delightful

Even before, Xie Lian had always thought that although this teenager was always smiling, his smile often made it hard for people to distinguish whether it was actually genuine, or whether it was mockery in the guise of compliments. However, this time, anyone would be able to tell that there wasn’t even half an ounce of goodwill in his smile. - yeah that about sums it up. not even half an ounce of goodwill damn that sure the hell is not a lot of goodwill

He had Ruoye go grab onto something sturdy and stable, but Ruoye ended up grabbing onto San Lang! - awwww thats kind of cute. also the mental image... im going to make this its own post too but

im waiting for xie lian to cough up all that sand hes eating and say something funny when we’re back on the ground. i hope we get more very literal decisions from ruoye

It should be noted that there was a common saying within the mortal realm—a powerful dragon cannot crush a snake in its old haunts. - oh i like this and the translators note This is an old Chinese adage that basically means, ‘even a powerful man cannot crush a local bully.’

“General.” Nan Feng and Fu Yao both spoke at the same time, “What?” - CONFIRMED I CALLED IT tbh it was kind of obvious now ig now im just waiting. also again hysterical. if youre gonna hide your identities boys fucking lkafjfjlkdaf; try harder to remember that youre hiding

To be demoted again and again, to the point one couldn’t be demoted any further…… this kind of experience honestly felt too familiar. Xie Lian felt two gazes collectively fall on his body, but he pretended not to notice and continued reading the text on the stone slate. - this is a funny little set up for what seems to be a parallel between xie lian and this central plains general. he tripped on his own bootlace??? this HAS to be xie lian parallel what does it mean. oooh the common people on both sides of the conflict were the ones who commemorated him? interesting..

San Lang faintly smiled before he whispered, “No, I made that up. Since they had laughed at him before, making them kowtow to him now wouldn’t be asking too much, right?” Xie Lian looked and saw that it was really true. There was already no more text left to translate on the stone slate. He had originally wanted to sigh, but now he just found it funny. Thus, he also whispered, “Why are you so cheeky?” San Lang stuck out his tongue. The two of them were laughing when suddenly, someone screamed, “What is this!!!???” - okay they are funny and i respect the deception. also oooh scorpion tailed snake. oooh a horde of them. a classic cave blunder

“Yeah! The results are relatively the same as worshipping that rubbish immortal! The more you worship, the unluckier you become! “ “……” For an arrow to hit the bullseye despite being in a place so distant and unrelated, Xie Lian was left with no words. - oh my god xie lian are you wearing a spiritual “kick me” sign because it really feels like you are

HE GOT STUNG XIE LIAN NO

[the--sad--hatter]

Phantom Pain (24)

FANDOM - MARVEL MCU

PAIRING - Bucky X Reader

WARNINGS - Bad Habits and Rough Sex, Angsty and Dark AF.

DESCRIPTION - Everybody in the world knew of you, but not who you really were. Some called you a vigilante, some called you a criminal and some called you a hero but all of them called you The Phantom.

Only two people knew your real identity and they swore to never tell anyone but when The Avengers need to infiltrate a high-security facility, Bruce Banner deduces that you’re the only one who can pull it off. That decision puts you and Bucky Barnes on a path you can’t turn back from, even if neither of like where it’s leading.

Series Masterlist

Chapter Twenty-Four - Operation Regicide 

“Ok, we’re hitting the Hydra Base in approximately 4 hours. Then you should be good to go.” Steve said.

 “Thanks Daddy.” You purred.

“You’re welcome Baby doll.” Steve said without missing a beat, winking at you and walking out of the room.

 Bucky choked on his water, Tony sat down on the nearest chair with a thump, staring after Steve with wide eyes, Clint opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish, Sam looked proud enough to burst even Natasha raised an eyebrow. Only Banner seemed to find it amusing surprisingly.

 “What did you do?” Bucky asked with narrowed eyes.

 You blinked innocently as him and shrugged, looking as perplexed as he did. West came into the room, talking on the phone as he did.

 “No comment. Yes, you can quote that we have no quote. Thank you, yes. Goodbye.” He said, hanging up the phone and looking slightly frazzled.

 “Miss, I am a butler, I can’t handle the press calling asking for an interview.” He said.

 “Well stop answering the calls West, it’s not your job and you do enough already.” You told him.

 “Someone has to do it, for now it seems to have fallen to me. Now, what kind of sandwiches would you all like me to pack for you for your mission?” He asked, looking around the room.

 “Ok everyone, we’re gearing up to hit the Hydra base in approximately 4 hours, Phantom you should be clear to move after that.” Steve said as he strode into the room.

 “Uh, yeah. You just said that… and other things I’ll never be able to unhear.” Tony replied.

 Bucky’s head snapped round to look at you as he figured it out and you laughed loudly and ran away, phasing through the wall.

 “Thanks Loki.” You shouted as you ran past him.

You hurtled around the corner and dashed down the adjoining corridor. Someone yanked open a door as you ran past and there was a metal arm wrapped around your waist, dragging you into the empty office.

 You looked up at Bucky in shock and looked around in confusion.

 “Oh my god. Did you jump of the window and scale the side of the building so you could catch me?” You asked, realising it was the only way he could have pulled it off.

 His smirk was all the answer you needed, and you laughed at the mental image as he pulled you into a kiss

 “I love being able to do this.” He breathed against your lips.

 “We’re supposed to be getting debriefed, we don’t have time for this.” You muttered back weakly, no fight in your voice at all.

 “I know but let’s just stay here for a second.” He asked and you smiled at him and wordlessly obliged.

 It ended up being more than a moment and neither of you pulled away from the embrace until the owner of the unoccupied office returned and the two pulled away and left, you apologising and Bucky glaring at them as if daring them to say something.

 He wordlessly grabbed your hand and held onto it as the two of you made your way back to the debriefing and if he kept a hold of it through the whole meeting, you were too happy to care about the teasing of the other team members.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Miss King, Boss and Captain Rogers want to let you know they have begun their assault. You’re up.” Friday said in your ear.

 “Got it. Operation Regicide is a go.” You said and turned to the computer, pressing the button that tony had very helpfully stuck ‘press this one’ note to.

 Voices chattered over the line as Tony’s program hacked the security channel and you listened diligently as the soldier unwittingly enacted your careful plan.

 “Sure this is gonna work?” Frank Castle asked from the corner of the abandoned warehouse where you had both set up shop.

 “Of course it is, it’s my plan and I might not be a genius but I am a damn good manipulator.” You answered, smirking at him.

“Don’t I know it.” He grumbled.

 “Are you still mad I made you like me?” You snorted.

 “I tolerate you because you have your uses.” He told you dryly.

 “Your wife likes me…” You taunted.

 He looked up from the dozens of guns he was checking and flipped you off and you laughed.

 “Package is en-route.” Someone said over the channel.

 You pulled your mask over your face and pulled your hood up.

 “We’re up. You know what to do.” You said to him and he gave you a bored two fingered salute and stood up.

 You walked over to the sleek matte black motorbike, or as you called it… The Phantom Mobile and swung your leg over it, straddling the beast and slipping the black helmet on.

 “Hey kid?” Frank called and you looked over your shoulder at him.

 “You did good you know that? Nobody’s going to remember your father, when they think of the King name, they’ll think of you and all the good you do.” He said, nodding at you.

 You welled up a little, you weren’t ashamed to admit it.

 “Thanks Frank.” You said and started the engine.

 The Phantom Mobile roared as you sped out of the warehouse and down the alley, slipping seamlessly into the traffic on the main road.

 You couldn’t see your target, but you didn’t need to.

 “Princess, the tracker on the package is active. It’s three blocks east.” A voice said in your helmet.

 “Thanks TADASHI.” You said to the AI operating out of the helmet.

 Tony had stolen the helmet from your bike without you noticing and made some upgrades, fitting it with one of his AI’s. It was one of the sweetest things he’d ever done for you and you knew it was his way of looking after you when you were out in the field. He let you know he was going to upgrade your Phantom suit with it as soon as this mission was over as well.

 You blended in easily with the New York traffic as you followed the packages planned route. Your helmet and coat hid the Phantom Suit and you looked like any other biker. It took almost twenty minutes before anything happened.

 “Phantom, I’ve got eyes on potential action. Package is about to go down a side street that is empty except for two unmarked black vans.” Frank said, automatically being transmitted through the helmet by Tadashi.

 “On it.” You said back and made a sharp left turn, cutting down an alleyway and coming out just as the package turned the corner onto the side street Frank had eyed.

 You heard the screeching of tires and the gunshots that followed and hit the brakes, skidding to a stop at the entrance of the side street. You dismounted the bike and pulled off the helmet at the same time, becoming intangible as the first volley of bullets hit you.

 They passed straight through you as you strode towards the retinue of Hyrda Agents converging on the package. Vibranium was expensive, you had been betting on them not being standard issue and you had been right.

 Several agents ran for you and you smirked as they desperately tried to land a blow, becoming more and more frustrated when they passed through you. Soon you were surrounded by them.

 “Time for a little punishment.” You said and machine gun fire rained down on you all, ripping through the flesh of the Agents and creating a could of blood splatters in the air surrounding you.

 When it was done, you stood unharmed in the centre of a pile of corpses and waved at Frank on the roof of one of the buildings. Two agents had used the slaughter as a distraction to blow open the back of the unmarked Van that had been carrying your package and they shot the guard inside and dragged a cuffed Secretary Ross out of the van.

 You rushed over, becoming tangible again as you reached them, pulling out two blades from under your coat as you stood between them, slicing them both across the throat and turning around, stabbing them both in the chest simultaneously for good measure.

The Hydra Van opened and Alexander King calmly stepped out. He smirked at you and raised his gun.

 “Hello Brother…Goodbye Phantom.” He said and fired.

 The Vibranium bullet never hit you as the supposedly dead guard who had been in the back of the van moved to stand behind you and brought his arm up in front of you, catching the bullet. He pulled his helmet off with his other hand to reveal Bucky Barnes.

 Alexander snarled and the doors of several of the building along the side of the street banged open as Hydra Agents poured out. Frank immediately fired on them and you grinned viciously.

 “You two take them. I’ve got King.” You told Bucky.

 As soon as you stepped away from Bucky, your father fired again but you had been ready for him and dove to the side, rolling out of the path of the bullet and flinging a knife at him. It hit him straight in the wrist and he dropped the gun with a shout of pain.

 You sprung to your feet and strode towards him, kicking the gun out of the way as you did. He glared at you and tried to swing a punch at you but his hand went through you. You hit him back, becoming tangible again as your fist connected with his jaw and he fell into the side of the van.

 “You had one shot, you missed and you don’t get another.” You snarled.

 His eyes went wide and he looked you up and down in shock.

 “Queenie.” He breathed.

 You frowned at his surprise and pulled your mask down.

 “No…” he breathed out.

 “You knew, you shot me with a Vibranium Bullet so don’t play dumb!” You hissed.

 “I didn’t keep those bullets for you.” He said.

 Pieces started to fall into place in your mind. You had never actually found any documents about Project Hulk in your fathers non-existent Brooklyn office, it had been a ploy to get your uncle to confess. You knew that of your father had covered his tracks he wouldn’t want your uncle talking to anyone about the Project. That’s how you had known he would come after Ross when he was being moved and The Avengers were otherwise occupied.

 But Project Hulk had wielded results, you were proof of that. And your father had Vibranium bullets so he knew it was successful but he had shut it down anyway, probably handing the research over to Hydra. But if he hadn’t known you were the Phantom then…

 “There another Phantom.” You said, your mind spinning.

 “There is, and I’ve been prepared for them to come after me. Vibranium is expensive but not unobtainable.” He said, pulling a long knife from his belt and swinging it at your chest, aiming right for the heart.

 You leaned back but you knew you weren’t going to make it; you had been too distracted by the revelation and in slow motion you watched the Vibranium blade descend towards your chest.

 “GHOST!” Frank yelled from behind you and when the tip of the blade was a millimetre away from you, a bullet phased through your chest and hit your father.

 He was knocked back by it and as blood blossomed across his shirt, you snatched the knife from his hand and threw it to Bucky who was looking incredibly relived that you had phased in time and Frank hadn’t ended up shooting you. You were glad he had taken the risk; you might have survived the bullet, but you wouldn’t have survived the knife. You nodded gratefully to Frank and turned back to your father.

 Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as he fell to his knees and gasped. His strength left him and he collapsed, the death rattle of his final breaths tearing from his lungs. You calmly knelt beside him on the ground and though he didn’t deserve it, you took his hand.

 “I’m here.” You whispered.

 He tried to say something, but you couldn’t hear him. With a sigh, you leant down and let Alexander King whisper his dying words in your ear.

 What he said made your blood turn to ice in your veins.

 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 Bucky carefully made his way over the destroyed rubble of the former King mansion with ease as he searched the destruction for you. When you had disappeared after your father died, he had deduced you might come here, and a sliver of moonlight revealed he was right.

 You were knelt on the ground under a tree of what used to be the back garden, next to a pile of dirt.

 “Are you alright?” He asked softly as he approached you.

 “My father is dead.” You whispered, your words drifting through the night to his ears.

 “We had to do it; you know that don’t you?” He asked.

 You didn’t answer, didn’t flinch, didn’t acknowledge him in any way. He came to stand behind you and his breath caught in his chest.

 The pile of dirt wasn’t left over from The Hulks smash party, it was a freshy undug grave. A shovel was grasped tightly in your hands as you started blankly at the decomposed skeleton in the grave.

 “No Bucky, Alexander King has been dead for over eighteen years.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

PLOT TWIST! Though I have been laying the foundation for that twist and sowing seeds for a while now.

This is the end of the first arc of the story so here's some stuff to look forward to in the upcoming chapters.

Mystery, intrigue, romance, smut, angst and Matt Murdock and Frank Castle being more heavily featured.

I hope you are looking forward to it cause I can't wait to write it!

@drdorkus   @gravedollie666  @sadsoldat  @bigplantdaddy  @moodyruth  @likes-to-smell-books  @shirukitsune  @inquisitor-selvala  @myfandomlife-blog  @markusstraya  @adeleoctobre  @vajeenparty  @sexyvixen7   @love-nakamura  @buckitybarnes  @littledeadrottinghood  @pinkisokay  @jsmith509  @brownlee-22  @angieptt    @thosesexytexasboys   @liveonce-sodoitright  @tarastudiesalot  @spnrvt  @dahkness  @dilaila95  @rororo06  @mizzzpink  @release-the-cathyrchkn   @thefridgeismybestie    @fairislesheets  @strangersstranger  @life-wanderer   @uuuuuuuuggggghhh  @curiositykilledthepepe  @musingpredilection  @boxofteenageideas  @thelostallycat  @demonlover87  @cutie1365  @mcuthemusical  @caroldanvers616  @chipilerendi @scarlettswxtch  @undiscovered-misunderstood @itsmejessicasstuff  @musingsofafangirlblog @moli1497

[keelywolfe]

FIC: A Ray of Sunshine From Behind the Clouds(baon)

Summary: Look, don’t ask Edge about his relationship with Stretch. He doesn’t know, either.

Prequel to the series, set after “Seeing Stars Through Clouds’ and ‘Pillars of Creation’

Tags: Spicyhoney, First Time, Pre-Relationship, Mentions Of The Seven Human Souls, And the deaths of the children, Light Angst

part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

If someone asked him to qualify his relationship with Stretch, Edge would tell them to mind their own business, to begin with.

But even if he refused to answer, he would be left with the question and he would have to admit, if only to himself, that he didn’t know.

Their former antagonism wasn’t completely vanished, but these days it would more likely fall under teasing, with less aggression than even his own brother’s. Edge found that he wasn’t merely tolerating Stretch’s company, he was often somewhat enjoying it. The glimpses of lively interest he could show, hands moving excitedly as he talked. The brilliant mind he kept so carefully hidden beneath a concealing layer of sarcasm and apathy was slowly revealing itself, like a shy ray of sunshine coming out from a behind a cloud.

He supposed he could admit that he liked it. Sometimes.

But he couldn’t name it.

For example, how could he properly explain Stretch’s newest ploy? It consisted of Edge getting a text on a random day of an address and a single word beneath it.

lunch?

It was usually followed by a ridiculous emoji of a sandwich, perhaps or a croissant.

The first time it came, Edge nearly declined. He was particular about his food and wasn’t interested in any greasy slop that Stretch might offer.

He’d already typed a refusal, his finger hovering over the send button…and remembered the coffee shop. His newfound daily pleasure in the Beanery was enough for him to delete the message and send a wary agreement, along with a time.

The thumbs up emoji that followed made him roll his eye lights, but his curiosity was piqued. Besides, if it turned out to be someplace like Grillby’s, he hardly needed to stay.

Instead, it turned out to be a small restaurant with no more than four tables, covered in checked tablecloths and dripping candles despite the hour of the day. There were braids of garlic hanging from the ceiling along with yellow globes of cheese. The overhead fixtures were plain and rustic. His doubts grew at first sight and vanished when he took the first bite from a plate brought to him by a large, enthusiastic Human whose booming voice nearly demanded enjoyment of the food.

Until then, Edge’s experience in pasta was limited to dinners with Papyrus and a few dishes he’d made on his own.

But this…one twirled fork filled with noodles and Edge could reassure their anxious waiter that the food was delicious. Lunchtime conversation was mostly Stretch rattling on about the history of Italian food, with the Human, Mario, occasionally interjecting.

It was…acceptable. And if sometimes the bright gleam of excitement in Stretch’s eye lights sent a twinge to his soul, well, a quick rub over his sternum usually chased it away. Usually.

Since that first text, Edge had eaten in many different places that were as unlikely as they were unusual. Stretch knew of plenty hole-in-the-walls where he chatted with the owners in their own language, Spanish, Italian, ones Edge didn’t recognize, from food trucks and storefronts with handwritten signs. They would sit at small tables with clean table cloths and eat food that was brought steaming on platters, or Stretch would secure them paper plates of food that was delicious and sometimes so spicy even Edge needed a drink.

Today, they were sitting together at a rickety picnic table, three dishes between them laid out on a scattering of clean napkins. If Edge was out of place in his business suit with Stretch who was in a sweatshirt and sneakers, the owner hadn’t given them a second glance.

“this is a kimchee roasted veggie bowl,” Stretch announced, pointing his fork at one dish. “caprese skewers, fried rice balls, and korean barbecue.”

Edge took a bite of the aforementioned veggie bowl, humming in appreciation at the heavy spice as he forked up another. The young woman in the food truck gave him a grin and a thumbs up. Edge waved somewhat stiffly back to her. “You certainly know a lot of people.”

“i told you, i like people,” Stretch mumbled around his own mouthful. It was a struggle not to grimace at the way he slurped up his food, but Edge couldn’t argue that it wasn’t delicious.

“I would have thought you wouldn’t care for Humans, to be honest,” Edge said, carefully. Perhaps not the best choice of luncheon conversations, but it was a question that had bothered him in the past. “Blue said that your Human in Underswap was much different than Frisk.”

Once, before a trip to a planetarium and a scattering of lunches, Edge likely wouldn’t have noticed the way Stretch tensed, his smile becoming less easy and more fixed, “yeah, pretty different.” He shrugged, plucking up one of the skewers and nibbling at it. “most humans are okay, you know? most of them aren’t much different than us. they love their families and they have fun and they like to laugh. most of them are fine.”

“Some aren’t.” Edge thought of his children at the Y, the stories he knew they hid.

He was taken off guard by Stretch’s flat reply, “asgore killed six kids and people think he’s okay.”

Edge frowned. “That’s different, he was doing what was necessary for his people as a King.” But thinking of it made him uncomfortable in a way it hadn’t in the past. Before they’d come to the surface, Edge had never met a Human, and now—

“yeah? maybe humans who do bad things are doing what they think is necessary. why does asgore get a pass?”

“You don’t like him.” That much was obvious, Stretch never made any pretense in the few occasions Edge saw him around Asgore, much the same as he’d never made any pretense around Edge not that long ago.

Stretch stabbed at a rice ball with his fork, and muttered, “i don’t want to fight.”

“We aren’t.”

“okay, then no, i don’t,” Stretch snapped. “and i’ve never been shy about saying it. he can have all the excuses he wants but the truth is, he killed those kids. i’ve seen their souls, you know i have, we all saw. they were kids and she just—“

“She?” Edge interrupted softly and Stretch clicked his teeth shut and looked away.

“he. whatever. look, the point is, he killed them. that doesn’t make me want to look at him like some fuzzy-ass savior.”

“I’ve killed.” There was no denying it and he’d never tried, not when a simple Check would reveal the truth. He wasn’t ashamed of it; he’d done what was necessary and no more, enough for him and his brother to survive.

“yeah, i know, kinda hard not to when i saw your lv the first time we met,” Stretch blew out a sharp breath and his sudden smile held no humor, “you ever killed a helpless kid?”

“No.” That much at least he could claim.

“i have. so i’m a hypocrite, too.”

That…was impossible. Stretch had no LV at all. Edge grabbed his wrist as Stretch tried to stand, “What do you mean?”

“let me go.” There was a tremble to those words, but it wasn’t fear Edge heard.

He let go.

He watched as Stretch walked a distance away, downwind, and pulled out his cigarettes. Flicked his lighter and lit one, exhaling a pale cloud. He smoked as he watched cars driving past, Humans pulling up to order their own food and giving them curious glances or the occasional look of outright disgust. No one approached them, no one said a word, and Edge worked his way through the bowl of kimchee, watching Stretch as he watched the world.

He dropped the butt on the ground, grinding it out beneath one untied sneaker, then picked it up gingerly between two fingers to toss on the trash bin.

Stretch walked back to the picnic table, hands in his pockets. He breathed out slowly, then asked, “can we talk about something else?”

“Yes.” His curiosity suddenly didn’t seem worth seeing that anguish again on Stretch’s face, not right now. He pointed his fork at the plates laid out in front of them. “Kimchee with roasted vegetables. Last week it was curried goat roti. How do you find these places?”

Stretch grinned and the sudden flood of warmth in Edge’s soul must have been from the heat of the kimchee. “twitter. i have a weekly thing i do where i take restaurant suggestions and then i sort of review it.” He gave Edge a wink. “i did ‘seoul food’ a few weeks back and thought maybe you’d like it, spicy as you are.”

“My temper isn’t that bad,” Edge said with exasperation. He couldn’t say why, but for some reason, Stretch’s grin turned closer to wry.

“nah, your temper is fine, edgelord. hey, listen, i’m gonna go to a new chinese place next week for a review, wanna come with? i promise i won’t mention you by name.”

Edge paused, his fork hovering over the barbecue. This was the first time Stretch had invited him out for lunch in advance rather than springing it on him, and to a restaurant he hadn’t yet visited. That, too, was something new.

But he couldn’t say he hadn’t enjoyed their lunches…

“No pictures,” Edge said sternly, and Stretch’s expression lit up with delight.

“nothing but selfies and the plates, cross my soul!” Stretch made an ‘x’ over his sternum with a long finger, then snatched up his fork again. “okay, now quit hogging the goods.”

As Stretch reached for the bowl, at the last moment Edge used his own fork to pull it out of reach, sending Stretch’s to clang uselessly against the picnic table. His disbelief morphed into a peal of laughter and Edge had to resist the urge to smile, rubbing again at his sternum.

Honestly, he might have to have his soul Checked if it kept throbbing like that. For now, he scooped up the bowl, working on keeping it away from Stretch who had actually crawled onto the table trying to reach and would probably have more success at getting a forkful if he could stop laughing.

Something like friends, Edge decided at last, giving over the bowl before it ended up a mess in one of their laps. That’s how he would describe their relationship if he were asked. Similar to what he had with Antwan, someone he could share a meal or a conversation with.

And if they were friends, then he could admit he was looking forward to more than the food next week.

Especially if Stretch laughed like this again.

-finis-

[prodigal-ezreal]

MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS

Attitude

Overconfidence to hide flaws is one of the oldest tricks in the books, and as an explorer, Ezreal loves old stuff. He is not completely unaware of this front he has put, but that doesn’t mean he is self-aware either. He obliviously projects his self-criticism into Piltover as a whole, aware that the city has helped bring out the worst in him, probably because his travels have helped ground him and humble him even if just a little. Ezreal is still very prideful, don’t get me wrong. It gets him in situations and prevents them from leaving them (how do you get in a game of Krakerhand with your captors if you don’t even know how to play?), and it makes it extremely hard for him to apologize and/or recognize he’s done something wrong. He just doesn’t know when to quit sometimes.

Ezreal uses his absurd amounts of fabricated confidence to deal with the disappearance of his parents-- that doesn’t mean he isn’t confident on his own right or that he’s insecure, but that the copious excess is a way to compensate for the emotional neglect throughout his childhood and then the possibility that the relationship he hoped to one day have with his parents may have no chance to even happen at all. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Ezreal wasn’t raised as much as he was tolerated. That weights you down. May make you feel intolerable and unlovable, but who needs that when you’ve got all the reassurance you need within yourself? not only that, no one needs to know you feel that way, because you don’t, haha.

(I believe his antagonistic relationship with his uncle also comes from this, an ‘If I can’t be someone you enjoy being with, I’m gonna be your biggest problem’ mentality that he hasn’t grown out of. This, mixed with his uncle’s untimely attempt to step into Ezreal’s life as a parental figure after his parent’s disappearance, since the guy doesn’t have anything else, and Ezreal’s vehement rejection of anything that even smells of ‘potential father figure’, make for an explosive mix).

Ezreal’s love for adventure is true, he is so passionate about it in fact that he is willing to write of consequences of his rushed and impulsive decisions as inevitable collateral damage. His deeper motive to begin his journey still is his parents going mia, since it gives him a way to connect with them as well as distracting him. It fills something. He also genuinely loves learning from ancient/different cultures, and you can see it in the little details: how he remembers the name of his first guide, that he calls the places he visits by the local name, that he asks them about history he could only hope of knowing, but that oral tradition must have kept in some way or another. This doesn’t excuse the blatant artifact contraband or the consequences of his actions-- in his mind though, the bigger the fish he catches, the faster he’ll be accepted into the explorer’s guild and the easier it’ll be to be famous and get his name around Runaterra. Ezreal’s all about shortcuts to something he wants, about taking the quickest way even if it’s the most dangerous. This applies to many areas of his life.

Despite his loud and flashy personality, Ezreal is a very private and secretive person, to the point of even isolating himself to the wounds he doesn’t want to admit to having to anyone, self included. This makes it hard to truly connect with people, and yet it makes his desire to be acclaimed and seen as an amazing hero even stronger. He still mourns his parent’s disappearance, and his coping mechanism of choice regarding all that has happened to him is isolate, confide and forget. Pretend it never happened. Hold on to an idea (Everything's fine, you are fine, they will be fine) and let the rest fall into place, even if it ends up in a giant mess.

(His writer used a very interesting phrase: “[Characters like him] They want to believe on something older than themselves to cover a present they can not face”).

As much as Ezreal loves shortcuts and everything and anything that makes his life a little easier, he knows he could be doing more to be seen as a hero. That he is riding off his natural talent and not putting any real effort (Maybe he doesn’t feel like putting in the effort because love for the sake of love is exactly the kind of affection kids receive, and one he missed). Still, this does not mean Ezreal does the right thing because it’s all a ploy to manipulate people into liking him, no-- He does the right thing, but for the wrong reasons. His heart is on the right place, his methods are... questionable. Example: Go against the remembrancers who messed up the future by going through the past and having fun! truly change your attitude for the better to change the perspective of the person you like! Ask the locals about their history and lore, because it’s easier (not because, you know, it makes sense).

His lack of willingness to put in the necessary effort to better himself may stem from the fact he might have gotten little positive reinforcement. When you are a gifted child, getting things right is expected of you, and place him in a demanding enough environment so that he can go through it by talent alone but also expected to always excel, and you’ve got someone with the clear abilities and talents to be great but the lack of passion to do so. If everything went your way with the minimum effort, why go overboard? And even more! If you are a tireless optimist as he is and as witty and lucky enough to be able to use an unfavorable situation to your advantage anyways, then what reason do you have to try and push yourself? Ezreal is always pushing his limits, but doing the least he can to meet them, stretching his luck and talent thinner and thinner, looking for a rush. Ezreal is not stupidly reckless, though. He knows the dangers of a situation, he knows when and how to handle himself. Aware of patterns, trends, and risks, he trusts his own instincts and talent to be enough and he’s generally right. He knows what’s his doing, which is probably the worst because one day something or someone is gonna take the rug off under his feet and he won’t know what to do.

[mwendesunstar]

Olake... Affair

I’d like to share thoughts expressed in my Facebook group concerning the disappointment many are feeling about Jake and Olivia engaging within an affair: 

“We all have so much to talk about! I wasn't ready for this; Shonda caught me off guard in a few important ways. But, it's good since it allowed me to see things a bit more clearly and realistically, mainly with Olivia. There is so much to say about her, on different levels, but before digging into this fantastic episode... Y'all, I think it's high time we begin to embrace Olivia, Jake, Olake, even Rowan for exactly who they are, which I don't believe I have been. I thought I was, to the fullest, but I really haven't been. I have an unusual high tolerance for Olake's crazy - they are indeed a crazy couple! - and have never once written either one of them off after everything we've witnessed, individually as well as a pair. However, even I have a way of attempting to adjust them to try and fit them into something I can accept when they stray from what is acceptable. Or, hope that they won't break a particular societal norm rule, even knowing they've already charged through many others. For instance, Jake having an affair with Olivia. I didn't want it to happen, didn't want to see it, hoped sex would come after divorce; no adultery. They are too good for that, and Vanessa has already been through enough; he killed her father for goodness sakes! But, then, it dawned on me today like never before.... Jake killed her father! In mulling on the brutal reality of this without attempting to dress it up, an Olitzer's post I read yesterday - hopefully she doesn't mind me posting it here, because I'm gonna - popped into my mind to further guide me into what I've now settled on with them:

"Yall I have an announcement 🗣🗣🗣🗣 JAKE'S MARRIAGE IS NOT REAL!!!!! I REPEAT JAKES MARRIAGE IS NOT REAL!!! HE NEVER LOVED HER, HELL HE DIDNT EVEN LIKE HER, HE ONLY MARRIED HER TO GAIN ACCESS TO HER MONEY....IT WAS ALL A PLOY... HE KILLED HER FATHER AS A PART OF THAT PLOY. STOP WITH THE "She's sleeping with someone else's husband again" cause again... for the people in the back... JAKE'S MARRIAGE IS NOT REAL."

An unusual Olitzer since all the one's I've come across thus far attempt to hold his "marriage" over his head as legitimate, as if none of us know the score! I then thought about Jake's words to Olivia about what he was taught to do under B613, just a quick reminder:

"He will reel you in with a trail of warmth and kindness. He will hold you in his arms and tell you that he loves you. And, once you are comfortable, once you feel safe, he will take everything that matters from you, and he will leave you with nothing. He will break your bones and step over your body on his way out. Do you know how I know that? Because that's what he taught ME to do...

Rowan: "First they'll smile, be warm, sympathetic, on your side, letting you know that they will fight for you, they will lull you into a false sense of security. And then, once your belly is exposed, they will gut you and everyone you know. And they will be swift about it. And, by the time you should be fighting back, well, you're already bleeding to death!"

BUUUUT.... we didn't want Jake having an affair, because it wasn't the right thing to do. It didn't look good, it wasn't nice at all. It looked mean after all that happened to poor Vanessa, and we wanted him to be considerate of both women in making sure to get a divorce first... The man who killed his father-in-law already to gain access to his wife's inheritance and nearly wrapped his fingers around her throat. "Liquor cabinet is that way." Please, be faithful in this marriage and get divorced first... All Shonda did was spell out some of what B613 does to it's victims through Vanessa Moss and her father; she spelled out what Jake described he was taught to do - and has done plenty of times! - to prior victims. The angel of death for many! I'd say Vanessa is one of the lucky ones in still being alive. This is not a real marriage; Jake is an impostor there just as much as both of them are impostors walking the halls of the WH together in this season's 1st episode! It's a tool, a resource, a cover, a mission, theater, stealing; it's B613. They were already utilizing her bank account prior to marriage! Jake & Olivia are ruthless monsters, predators, when necessary; the ONLY difference between Jake and Russell is that Jake fell in love with his mission, nothing else. They are dangerous by nature! They are not normal, but abnormal; Rowan's offspring. ROWAN'S offspring. I remember, prior to the episode premier, us hoping that Jake wouldn't kill Vanessa's father, or had nothing to do with it or something. Then it premiered, and Shonda spelled out the shock of the cold murder, no sugar coating.

I think we should be realistic in clearly understanding and accepting who we are dealing with here, the people we adore; the monsters we adore. I know I need to be 100% realistic, which will be an interesting experience for me going forward! I'm going to try. We love monsters; people who, at the end of the day, regardless of why they do the... out-of-this-world horrific things they do, deserve to all die and be buried in unmarked graves. No celebration or remembrance. But then, who'd be crazy and abnormal and capable enough to keep the Republic as they know it churning by any means? Sure, Shonda humanizes their lives and situations by digging into and displaying intimate and personal life details of such people, showing that even monsters can love, have family, express real and deep emotions, and have their own normal, but they are still monsters. We just see and understand life from monster's points of views, which can appear normal, even relate-able in ways from their angle. They bleed too. To honestly love and appreciate these particular characters as we say we do is to receive them in the entirety of their abnormal, which includes the full glory of their ugly and deviance to what is acceptable, right? Olivia and the sea of viewers who currently detest her, at least her ways, have one thing in common: both have a problem accepting her true nature, lol! I am deeply settling into the fact that the woman we are having a hard time with and continue to measure against standard norms is who she really is, that Olake is nothing short of ruthless and deadly, loves one another, and that their expressed relationship looks nothing like the standard romantic relationship, because they are polar to normal and fantasy, as individuals. I just want to start seeing them this way, unfiltered of the effort of adjusting, rejecting, judging, or explaining away their nature for what is comfortable and acceptable to me. I'm going to try. I'm open to their crazy, their monster, their abnormal and gritty, which is nowhere near a fantasy trip! I can only imagine that as Olivia sinks more and more into her gritty truth, people's issues with her may grow even more.”

[dreadhaus-literature]

{A/N}

I’ve already talked about this before but I have more to say, so.

I don’t often cite “being old” or “getting old” or whatever. I don’t care about changing trends or hating on what’s become popular “with the kids” like some Boomer. Idc what everyone else is doing, that’s pretty much been a staple for me my whole life. I do me, you do you, we’re good.

But one thing that just continues to confuse me and my bitter old ass, and has my whole life is this concept of romance and what’s considered “romantic” or I guess, idk, “acceptable” to put into romance.

Now, let me preface my post with a couple things:

I grew up reading romance novels. Damn good ones, thank you Miss Christine. So I’m used to not only real sappy, happily ever after stories, but also the idealistic way someone ought to treat you.

A lot of what I say can be taken lightly or as a joke. For some reason this seems to be lost a lot in translation with me so let me just be clear. A lot of my points aren’t serious and are mostly just light-hearted jabs at what I’m talking about.

I’m not a complainer. I’m typically happy with anything and if not I ignore it and move on, so keep that in mind, too.

I’m not gonna waste my time with the whole “romance is different for everyone” because we all fucking know that already. This is just me talking about me.

So now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, let’s sample the tea.

A lot of people are fucking awful at romance.

And I’m saying this having sampled a plethora of media on the subject. Bear in mind, I don’t consume media that doesn’t have some form of romance in it. I don’t read novels that aren’t romance or have SOME aspect of romance in it, I prefer ASMR videos that have personal attention triggers or are affection roleplays, I sample a fuckton of otome/dating simulation games, I consume x you/x reader headcanons and fanfiction constantly, I unironically watch rom-coms--I’m a sappy bitch. Love and affection are really the only thing that matter to me and it’s ironic as fuck considering how often I’m single, but whatever.

We already know fantasy > reality so we’re not gonna rehash that.

But that is my point. I don’t understand this sweeping trend of needing realism and shit in our escapism. That just...doesn’t work for me? It never has. I have a wild, vivid ass imagination and I know not everyone does, but it’s so fucking tedious for me to consume media and see people constraining themselves by reality because “this wouldn’t make sense in every day life”.

Bitch why do you think I’m here.

I’m a 6′2 lesbian of color with a hormone imbalance and a terrible family. I don’t fucking need reality for a goddamn thing. That’s the whole reason I’m here, to escape it.

And I’ve asked this question before, multiple times, but what is the fucking appeal of making characters mean to your audience? I know I’m probably in a minority here, but I will immediately lose interest in a character if they treat me like shit, even slightly. I am never and have never been one of those people who is all, “they could do whatever they wanted with me and I wouldn’t care,” like, nah. I’ve been treated like shit enough in my life, I come to a relationship to be treated well so you can fuck right off treating me like I don’t matter.

It’s so bizarre. Because I see it across the board. Like, all forms of romantic media is guilty of doing this, of creating these tropes of asshole types who are like, “I’m barely going to look at you. Date me,” and it’s like, my guy, you’d be talking to thin fucking air. That shit ain’t cute.

I ain’t a 1950′s housewife. You act right or you get to steppin’.

And I’m aware my independence likely has a lot to do with it. I’m 100% fine on my own so I don’t put up with foolishness, generally. Don’t have a need to, not scared to be by myself.

I very rarely get seriously invested in a lot of these otome/dating simulator games because the story is so flimsy or it’s very obviously just a ploy to “look at these pretty characters who’ll mildly ignore you” and that just ain’t for me. Looks are very much secondary in my book and if someone is attractive but they act like garbage they immediately become unattractive. If Tom Hiddleston was revealed to be some douche canoe that’d be it. I feel myself souring to characters when they act a certain way, and their appearance changes, to me. They become unattractive to me. Personality’s much more important, so the pretty pictures just aren’t enough to reel me in or keep my attention.

Monster Prom was the first one I can genuinely say I was wholly invested in. One, because I’m a monster fucker (thank you, Silent Hill during my formative years) and two, there was genuine care taken into the story. As a writer, especially a romance writer, I can be super particular about story-telling. It’s very easy to lose me to a bad story. But I loved the character concepts and designs in MP, a lot. I still do--but I will admit, the more I played, the more I got a little turned off because I started to uncover it was less about making the characters love you and more about “look how witty our banter is” or “watch how many times this character can give you the brush off or insult you, isn’t it funny?”

No. No...it isn’t.

Escapism, remember? But I’d have to be careful when I played MP because if I was having a bad day, it stung to be insulted or dumped/literally laughed at when I’m trying to feel better by escaping to a fantasy world with characters I love and who are supposed to love me.

I know I’m sensitive. And being emotionally abused my whole life has also left me with some pretty...well. Idk the right wording, but there are some things I don’t want to hear or be told because it puts me in a really messed up headspace. And so I take my opinion on what’s “mean” or “rude” with that in mind. I know these things about myself and there are times I’ll catch myself side-eying a response I get in these games, then laugh and be all, “Nah, that wasn’t a big deal.”

I have to do that in real life, too, so.

But that’s my whole point. I shouldn’t have to take myself out of the fantasy to remind myself that I’m not stupid just because some pixels on a screen are trying to be cutesy “mean” to me. No one likes to be called names or made to feel dumb or ugly or...idk, I just, that’s never been my style of writing romance and I don’t understand the appeal of it.

I always write to make my reader feel the best they’ve ever felt. No one in real life can adore and love you in the perfect way a fantasy character can. I learned that a long, long time ago. That shit really is only in fairy tales. So if you’re escaping a reality where people treat you shitty or make you feel unimportant why the hell would you choose to go to a fantasy life where characters you love are going to do the same thing?

I don’t understand writing characters, ANY CHARACTER, as being cold or aloof or mean to your reader. I don’t give a fuck who it is or what their character type is. I’ve said it before but love changes who you are, so whose to say a character who is cold and aloof and mean to everyone else wouldn’t be warm and affectionate with their lover? But that isn’t generally what I see, what I see are characters who remain exactly the same with their partner as they are with everyone else and so much for feeling special.

I can genuinely say there’s not a single character I’ve come across that I couldn’t write any way I wanted to, most especially romantically. Hell, if DC can write Bruce fucking Wayne initiating “I love you,” then you can write a character not being a bag of limp dicks to me.

The other otome game/DS I’ve gotten into is Obey Me! Been playing that for a while, and same with MP I love the character designs and the story. It’s engaging, it’s funny, the brothers are all diverse and adorable and I love them all ♥, but the same issue with MP I’m seeing with OM, too. There are times when the brothers are downright mean to you and I turn the game off for a while because I didn’t open it up to be insulted.

I can’t tell if it’s bad writing or if there’s actually people out there who enjoy that sorta stuff. I don’t talk to enough people to know who the hell this is for--and I’ve seen community comments along media where the readers just laugh it off and I generally do that, like in OM when Levi gets all tsundere or Mammon IS ON HIS BULLSHIT AGAIN (I love that idiot boy) but other times I’m straight up shut down by them and if that were me, IRL, that would be the end of a relationship.

Again, might just be preference. I don’t do hot/cold people, I spent my childhood dealing with an unpredictable household where one moment it would be okay to be in the same room or even look at my parents and the next I’d literally be shut up in my bathroom to have two sets of doors between me and them because it was safer.

Case in point? Earlier tonight I was spending time with Asmo in-game, who is just...an absolute flower and I love him so much, he’s so cute, but every single alone/personal time I spend with him he’s been fine to be touched, does that whole super cute, “More, more!” beg. So I went to touch him like always and he rejected me. Out of nowhere, after being thrilled with everything else we’d done together. And I immediately felt myself turn cold to him and had to stop myself--which is something I do IRL, too.

If you immediately switch up on me like that, don’t expect me to stick around. I can’t/won’t do it. Grew up with it, have no tolerance for it now.

And again, after I closed the game down, I was sitting there like, who is this for? Why is that even a thing? If I designed otome/dating sim games, the characters would all be receptive of MC because that’s the fucking point. If I wanted to be rejected I’d just fucking date IRL, I’m here to see pixels because I like feeling wanted, not insulted and told to go away--especially out of nowhere. That’s just...idk, mean to be mean?

It’s not that I get my feelings hurt, lol, I’m 30 years old and I know the characters aren’t real. It’s more that I’m just baffled by it. It’s illogical and leaves me scratching my head. I don’t understand what is so hard about making things perfect or why that’s so unappealing for so many people. The argument, “It’s unrealistic,” shouldn’t even be a fucking argument. None of this is real.

It’s like Joker, and how up in arms people get about seeing him written obsessive but still able to not be abusive to Reader. Like, writing him with his craziness intact, but making him obsessively in-love rather than abusive and people lose their goddamn minds.

“It’s unrealistic! He’s a psychopath, he’d never really be able to love you! He’s supposed to be abusive! This is OOC!”

Right okay but he isn’t fucking real? And your imagination is pathetic.

Going the opposite end of the spectrum, and you get a cold, aloof character like Crocodile and authors have zero issue with telling you he would never love you and he’d likely be mean to you a lot.

Cool, get away from me then. Also, why? You don’t treat the person you love the same as everyone else, otherwise...that’s not the person you love.

You wanna be realistic, let’s be realistic.

I’ve always considered my relationships like ripples in water. The people closest to me get the best of me, then further out will get some warmth and kindness but they’re not #1. Beyond that will get politeness and beyond that? Acquaintance-level. It’s like how ripples start out large and get smaller the further out they go. That’s how my heart works. I’m not going to greet my best friend the same way I greet a friend, because she’s more important and should know it.

And I wouldn’t treat my partner the same way I’d treat some rando on the street, but so many authors are guilty of writing characters so poorly there’s no discernible difference between me and some random.

And I hate it. ಠ_ಠ

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: if you struggle writing any character in-character and still able to be in a loving relationship, you’re a bad writer.

And I’ll say it louder for the chuckleheads in the back.

If you struggle writing any character in-character and still able to be in a loving relationship, you’re a bad writer.

And to be honest, I wouldn’t be...idk, 100% surprised that there’s someone out there who is actually fine with this sort of thing? Like, I know some people are fine with being denied/rejected, given the brush-off, etc, but my childhood has taken that off the table for me. It goes really south for me, really fast. It’s to the point I have physical reactions to it, I wind up feeling so bad.

But I mean, they have to be writing it for someone, right?

Let me give you two examples, though. Picture your favorite character (FC).

Example A:

FC comes up to you before you could react to their arrival, home at last, and greets you with a chaste but soft kiss. “I missed you,” is said quietly, almost secretly, against your mouth--an admission you knew no one else had heard from those same lips. The words are backed up with action, an arm swept around the small of your back, fingers cinched against your hip to keep you locked to their side so when they straightened up, they took you with them. Tethered together as you’d been apart long enough.

Example B:

FC was home, had arrived home hours ago, but had made no attempt to come see you or speak to you. Finally, you’d figured enough time had passed they’d be all right with a small interruption, but the knock on the door goes unanswered. After a second try, a brisk, “Come in,” is your welcome. Once inside, a glance is spared for you but no more words exchanged. “I missed you,” is your attempt for more attention, met with a silent nod to show it was heard, and a gesture you could be on your way. They were busy.

I would argue that, given the choice, most would go with Example A. Which is insane, considering the majority of fanfiction and game play I see tends to lean toward B.

And the wording is super particular, too. In B, the wording “be all right with a small interruption,” implies the Reader is actively bothering their lover. The brisk greeting could be said to anyone, but shouldn’t be said to Reader if they’re meant to be someone special. And the lack of reciprocation speaks volumes. You missed them? Who knows if they missed you.

And again, if you’re really into defending realism, a relationship where a character wouldn’t speak to you or if they do, they’re treating you like shit? You’re not going to form a relationship to begin with. It’s almost like how we, now, look back at those old time housewives who put up with/made excuses for their husbands who barely paid attention to them and ignored their kids altogether because “that’s just how men are”. We’re repeating it, just modernizing it.

Well, y’all are. I’m not.

Because I am of this wild idea that escapism should live up to it’s name. That I should be able to disconnect from my depressing ass reality to go somewhere that people are always happy to see me and then treat me like they are.

Reality is often disappointing and I am of the belief fantasy shouldn’t be.

And like I’ve said before, you can write any character in a loving relationship without making them OOC. It’s about the way you make the character show their affectionate side, their loving side, that matters--making a cold character a fucking frigid cockthistle isn’t the right way to do it.

Using Example B, a cold character who may not express themselves as openly, when written properly, might not say, “I missed you too,” but they might put their work aside, set their pen down, and hold out their hand for you. The attention they pay you there is how they show you they missed you, too.

An aloof/busy character who came home and couldn’t immediately come to see you, who still had work to do, might text you from their office and tell you--

“I’m home. Come here.”

No flowery language needed, you know they missed you. And idk about you but I’d get all tingly from that text. (♡´艸`)

And that’s what I’m talking about! How hard is that? Apparently very! I see glimpses of it in media, from the games to shows to movies (fanfiction leaves much to be desired but good writers are few and far between) but they always chase it with some unnecessary rude bullshit and then I’m like, well here we are again, me ignoring lines of dialogue because you cain’t act right.

But I digress. Getting into certain things at least allows me to cherry pick characters out of it and then rewrite them in my own head--hell, I’m a comic book fan. I’ve been doing that shit for decades, lmao.

Canon? Nah son.

So yeah. That’s just been tumbling around in my head for a while and I wanted to talk about it proper.

OM was the reason I finally decided to sit down and write this all down, and I have been seriously restraining myself from gushing in the midst of all my commentary--because I really do love the Demon Brothers something awful ♥ they’ve taken over in a big way. But this isn’t the place, unless I start analyzing the stuff OM does right--and that’s partly why it kept my attention where other otome/DS games can’t. Despite running into the same blocks as the other, similar media out there, OM does a lot of things right.

I won’t go into everything, just a handful of examples, because there’s a lot of subtlety that I think is masterfully done:

The way Lucifer is first to defend you and check up on you

The way Mammon turns from calling you “human” to “my human”

The way Levi shares his personal collector’s items with you

The way Satan invites you to events that mean something to him

The way Asmo values your compliments over anyone else’s

The way Beel shares his food with you

The way Belphie actually smiles at you

Out of context some of those could sound super unimportant, but the game does an excellent job setting it up so that you know all of those things? Mean that you mean something to the demon it’s coming from.

Lucifer has a million things to worry about but he leapt to my defense (before Mammon, who is technically in charge of me) and he goes out of his way to walk by my room and then texts me if I’m too quiet to make sure I’m okay--and offers to accompany me if I happen to leave my room for any reason. Lucifer is a super great mix of, “Come here. It’s lonely without you. Spend time with me,” and “I’m only asking where you are because I should be with you...for protection.” Like, okay. I’m onto you, old man. ♥

Mammon has little respect for humans and initially begins calling me “Human” rather than my name (despite being told to call me by name because yes, I did tell that ill-mannered boy to call me Dot) but then it gradually changes to “My human” and now I’m annoyed my heart skips when he does it. Him going so far as to say as “his human” I should only let him protect me because “It’s me or no one, understand?!” I hate you made me love you??? Plus he’s a masochist and I could obliterate him for it.

Levi is gonna get enough of calling me a fucking “normie”, aight. I’m not an otaku like you, kiddo, but I’m a fucking comic nerd so could you maybe chill--but the more you progress with him, the more he waits for you because he wants to show you his new manga or show or game. Someone wanting to share something personal with you is everything--god and he’s so tsundere he’s so easy to fluster. “It’s not what it looks like! I wasn’t waiting for you!” Outside my door? Right. Okay. “What, is that supposed to make me happy...? I-I’m sorry, don’t stop!” I love it.

Satan was one I wasn’t initially sure of. He’s very obviously hiding something beneath that cool, collected exterior (haha probably a lot of rage if you’ll ignore my Wrath pun), but he won me over pretty fast by inviting me to multiple events because, like Levi, he wants to experience things with me. Plus, when I get excited he appreciates it rather than making me feel silly. “That’s the answer I was looking for.” ♥ And he invited me moon-gazing so like, psh, yeah let’s get married.

Asmo I knew, immediately, I would have zero issue with. He’s the Avatar of Lust, which is one sin I’m real into. So while I wasn’t worried about him, finding out he had so many fans and lovers and the like, that I was worried would bother me. I’m possessive~♫ But the game did a huge service to me by showing Asmo wants my compliments more than anyone else’s. Him saying that to me made me coo, out loud. I’m typically not into narcissistic folks, but when it’s done a certain way? Like Tony. You can be important to a million people but if you show me I still come first? I’m smitten. With Asmo, the adorable way he’s almost like a puppy in wanting, “More! I want more! Just from you!” It’s so fucking cute.

Beel is best boy. Like, hands down, immediately crowned Best Brother. He is adorable, like the total giant teddy bear trope. And being the Avatar of Gluttony, food is everything to him. So when he started offering to share his food with me? Like boy oh my god. Freaking Sam hugging gif x100. I CAN’T EVEN EAT ALL THAT MUCH BUT YES, YES, A THOUSAND TIMES YES. It never fails to make me smile when I give him his favorite food and he goes, “You’re going to eat with me, right?” NOW I AM. Sobbing. While he tells me being hungry around me “isn’t so bad.” I’m not going to touch on the vore fetish he’s feeding in me every time he starts drooling and calling me a dumpling.

Belphie. Oh, Belphie. My difficult boy. Like Damian from MP I fucking knew you’d be a problem--WHICH IS DUMB YOU’RE A SLOTH, I’M A SLOTH. YOU LIKE NAPS, I LIKE NAPS. But he’s so aloof, he’s hard to pin down initially--but I was gonna get ‘im. I love how the game makes you glean Belphie’s caring for you from the things he says. “You’re late,” when you show up, because he was waiting for you. Or, “What were you doing?” because he wants to know what you’re up to and who with and why it wasn’t him. I adored his line, “I want to sleep but...come see me in my dreams or I’ll get mad.” Like baby I will live there. That and my other favorite is when he smiles and simply says, “Welcome back,” because he missed you and is happy you’re here.

That ^ is all quality. It shows that different character types can love and love well in their own way, without having to be assholes. Belphie loves differently than Asmo but you still know he loves you. The game falls into the same traps as others do, I’m not saying it’s perfect, but it definitely has my attention and I love the brothers now the same as all my other characters--where other games I’ve set aside and given up on.

I think I’ve rambled on about all this enough, it was just buzzing about in my skull and while I guess this is discourse? Really I wouldn’t even say it’s a hot take, it’s just confusing why this isn’t talked about more or why so many characters and games and stories and media are ruined by badly written attempts at romance.

My rule of thumb, or one of them, has always been similar to the golden rule:

Write your romance the way you’d want your favorite character to treat you.

I feel like, most of the time, you can’t go wrong with that. I certainly haven’t had any complaints, at least.

[sitaaronkepaar]

Daily Rikara Ramblings

Gosh, yesterday’s layak dialogue so made me not want to watch today’s epi but I still low-key want to see what AniRi are up to.

Also, Omkara better have a better reason than aiveyin hi for not picking Gauri’s calls. Gosh, koi itna gadha kaise ho sakta hai 🙄🙄🙄

Lol, aww, I thought Gauri bride banegi, but it’s Annika. 🤣

Omfg Gauri being the saviour again!! Duniya ki saari brides ee chirriya hi bhagayegi. She’s pretty much an expert now. 😂😂😂😂😂

Lol, my friend pointed out that AniRi look like little kids being forced to sit in the jagraata, and i can’t get that image out of my head now. 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Gauri doesn’t even ask why. Sidhe how. 😂😂😂😂

Lmao, she just broke into a run 😂😂😂

Look at her being all nonchalant.

Today I learnt a new word for toilets. Gulshankhaana? Isn’t Gulshan a bouquet? Wtf. 😂😂😂😂

Lol both sisters in law know how to pick locks. I can’t 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Lol Shivaay ko mumbai baithe hi andaaza ho gaya, ateast he cares

Look at Omkara pretending like he gives a fuck. Lmao.

Omg omkara is so me when my fam drags me to things idc about 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

Bitch, pehele hi woh ring kyu nahi dikhayi. 🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄

I so don’t gaf about this suman. Only tolerating this girl for AniRi. Sighhhhh. 😒😒😒

Uff, yaar jaldi pehen suman k kapde. Ughhhhh

Gauri’s crying for divine intervention again lmao. 😂😂

Her jumping out of the bathroom reminds me of the time she(as Chulbul) jumped out when shivaay was at her door. 😂😂😂😂😂😂

The waiting room is so clean lmao. Yeh pakka india me hi hai na? 😂😂😂

Omg this fucking aunty pakaoing Rudra about marriage is every fucking Indian aunty ever. Just STFU aunty!! 😡😡😡😡😡😡😡

LOL IT’S A DREAM!!! I CAN’T 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

The sindoor pic that threw everyone in a tizzy is a fucking dream. THANK YOU GOD! Bhavya deserves better than this immature idiot. 🙄🙄🙄🙄

UNCLE!!!!

Rudra getting angry at the Little kid calling him uncle is me every single time a fucking twit calls me an aunty. Badtameez bacche!! Aunty mat kaho na(hum paanch fans will get the reference) 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

FUCKER PICK UP HER CALL OMFG!!

I knew “break” ka badla le raha hoga woh. Fucking knew it! Channeling his inner Ross I see. MORON!!

“Omakaraji ab hamara phone tak nahi utha rahe”

You don’t fucking deserve my queen omkara 😢😢😢

Just use your own wits Gauri, yeh omkara waise bhi useless hai 🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄

This eyepatch dude is cracking me up. 😂😂😂😂

Lol. That wink. 😁😁😁😁

Lmao Gauri, since when has not knowing how to drive a vehicle stopped you? Use your internet chachi behen 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

SHE DID! 😂😂😂😂😂😂

People actually sing antakshari in waiting rooms? Wow. Last time I went everyone was staring at their phones. 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

I know I’m nitpicking but wtfffff why are they dancing omg

Drunk dulha be like “tera dhyaan kidhar hai, ye tera hero idhar hai” 😂😂😂😂😂

Uncleji looks low-key nonchalant about this whole switcheroo? Matlab I’ve been more upset at spilling coffee on my shirt than he seems to be at his daughters replacement lol. 😂

At least Shivaay cares about his wife. 🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄

Thank god kisi me koi akal hai. Aur suna Shivaay. 😑😑😑😑😑😑😑

Goli ki dhamki again. 🙄🙄🙄🙄

Annika akele hi inn dono se deal kar legi lol. 😂😂

This uncle looks like he checked out two years ago. Bhai tere beti ki shaadi pe itna hungama ho raha hai, kuch toh expression de 🤣🤣🤣

“Bhaujaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiii”

Gauri the saviour ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

I like this version of Hero Gauri more tbh. No more crying crap. Thank fuck. 😌😌😌😌😌😌

Annika’s like “YAAAAYYYYYYYYYY!!!!”

Lol stage hi tod diya 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

Omfg these queens. Omg this is going to be my icon now. Roffllllll. ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

“Aunty”

This baccha, god, I wanna kick his arse! 🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄

Hahahahhaha, Rudy bhadaking at aunty-uncle is ME! 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

What the fuck. LMFAOOO.

“Baccha marr jayega”

Rofl 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

Omg what is this baccha-baccha. Bas karo yar 🙄🙄🙄🙄

Also, someone kick this aunty’s ass. Har jagah lecture dene aa jati hai. 🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄

Ugh, SvetVi bakwas. Fwd.

Did this guy just remind bhavya of the time he chedofied her? Cheapness ki bhi hadd!!!

Are they really reminiscing the times when he chedoded her and she slapped him? Kya din they woh? Hadd ho gayi!!! I’d just have slapped him again. 

Ladki chedna bachpana hai?

I want to punch this guy.😡😡😡😡😡

Lol @evul villain face. Obvsly he hasn’t forgotten anything. 🙄🙄🙄🙄

Le, mirror ko dekh k khud ki hi tareef kar rahi hain. Can’t say I can’t relate. 😂😂😂😂😂😂

Omg I can’t believe I was just talking about this ugly half saree today, and its already back. 😫😫😫😫

I liked her south Indian look so much more. 😖

Ugh fwding

Looks like this is a ploy to make Rudra save Bhavya again. Bakwas. 🙄

Why is Bhavya always acting like Rudra’s mom? Fuck that, why does he always act like a toddler? 😡😡😡😡

Uff, I’m fwding this shit.

Uff Tej ka mel milaap. Bakwas, moving on.

Lol Bhavya, why wouldn’t you just wash your face?

This dude is lame and I already know whats going to happen. Bakwas.

Rudy ko hero banane k liye why do they always sacrifice Bhavya?

Oh god. I hate this word baccha. Adding it to the list of farak and tadi and get lost and characterless and nalayak. 🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄

I don’t know why I’m still watching it.

Lol. Oh, is Bhavya gonna save him for once? Yay!

Lmaoo, okay it was not that bad. But so fucking unnecessary. 🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄

Oooh, Bhavya’s mad at him. Thank God.

Rudy’s still acting like an imbecile. Matlab itna duffer koi kaise ho sakta hai? 🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄

Precap has finally raised my interest in this bakwas. Lmao. Omkara FINALLY looks worried. Fucking idiot.

[undertale-imagine-that-the-2nd]

Hothead (UF!Grillby x Zoey)

Commission for Zoey! Aka sfw-imagines-headcannons2

Hope you like it ghost fren! <3

♪♫Never gonna give you uuup! Never gonna let you dooown!♪♫ The bar's corner jukebox blared the sappy 80's love song for the 5th time in a row, causing the new (human) customers to groan in obvious aggravation. The monster clientele were used to a certain specter's shenanigans so didn't do much to show they'd even noticed the repetitive song selection other than roll their eyes or sip their liquor. The previously aforementioned ghost was having the time of her life (afterlife?) messing with the humans! See there seemed to be a never ending stream of curious humans that would come in to try out the 'weird monster bar' that managed to open after they were all freed from the mountain. And in order to weed the weaker willed humans out she'd taken to playing particularly annoying songs over and over until a human finally snapped! It never failed to amuse her and the other monsters in the bar. Seeing some whiny human curse and storm out in a huff was always funny. Sans even somehow managed to start a betting pool (that her hubby got a cut of for allowing it) to see how long it took a human to finally storm out of the place. So far the longest a human had lasted was 57 minutes while listening to the Space Jam theme song. And right now every monster in the place was watching one particularly red faced human practically blow steam from a table near the door. Grillby couldn't help the entertained smirk that decorated the moving flames of his face. He so looked forward to his feisty little phantom's daily game of screwing with the human dolts that waltzed into his bar like they owned the place. Finally the monsters got what they wanted and the irritated human stood up, obviously in a tiff. But instead of marching out the door he hollered towards Grillby, "Can't you do something about that busted jukebox?!" The bartender let out a humorous "Heh~" before he sat down the glass he'd been idly cleaning and jerked his thumb towards the jar that sat at the end of the wooden bar. Looked like an big old fashioned pickle jar that someone had slapped a little paper sign on. Sign in question had$20 BUCKS AND I MAKE IT STOP written in sharpie. The humans could either just leave his bar (and he got a cut of the winnings) or they could pay him directly for some peace. Either way he got some cash in his pocket. The monsters waited with bated breath to see what the loud human would do. Leave or pay up. The other humans sitting with him also watching though they looked more worried than eager. After a tense full minute the human abandoned the (faux) safety of his group and stormed towards the bar. A couple of bunny monsters sitting near the jar in question groaned quietly at his approach. Looks like they just lost the pool. Sans gave a dark chuckle and stealthily marked off two names from a long list before pocketing the slip of paper before the human could see it. Said human bitterly tossed in a 20 before sweeping his arm towards the jukebox, that was still obnoxiously blasting the same song, in an expectant way. Grillby rolled his eyes, or he did as much as he could with no pupils or any color to his eyes anyway, and snapped his gloved fingers. The sharp sound echoed through the bar and the music finally came to a sudden halt. Zoey popped her dark blue haired head up and out of the now silent music player and pouted before floating totally out of the device. Now that she'd been alerted that the game was over (today's anyway) she was bored. So she decided to go bother her wonderfully spicy husband. She floated with a smirk past the dumbstruck human from before but when he shouted in outrage she blinked and turned to look at him have a little meltdown that was more laughable than upsetting. "So what, that was all a ploy between you and that THING to get us to pay for something YOU caused?! That's low as dirt! I want my money back!" Zoey bristled at being referred to as nothing more than a 'thing' but didn't say anything. Having a screaming match with some brainless flesh bag didn't sound like fun. She'd just let the air out of his tires later, maybe right before he needed to go somewhere. Grillby gave a monotone chuckle that didn't have a single drop of real humor to it before slamming the shot glass down and swiping the 20 out of the jar, stuffing it into his coat pocket. More to drive it home that the human was not getting it back more than anything. "No can do. All donations are final I'm afraid. Besides, you got what you wanted. She stopped." Seemed Grillby hadn't found the human's insinuation that she was some lifeless 'thing' any more tolerable than she had. But other than that he didn't say anything, instead opting to just pick up his towel and another glass to wipe clean. His dismissal abundantly clear to every monster in the place. Now usually it was here where the humans that started to kick up a fuss realized that pushing any further wasn't going to get them anywhere (except the hospital burn ward) so they gracefully, or as gracefully as they could, bowed out and either just got another drink or just left and never came back. (Usually the latter.) But this human seemed to have more than the average amount of Determination, or perhaps that was foolishness, because instead of backing down he rudely slammed his palms down on the bar then jabbed a finger at the Zoey's startled face and said with derision, "This little scam you two perform is shitty, but what else could I expect from some monsters? Now you, you should be sent back to Hell where you came from you freaky little ghost-" No sooner had the idiot gotten half way through his sentence had the monster bar patrons stiffened up and waited for what they all knew was going to happen next. And like they all expected; Grillby's flames erupted up to the ceiling like someone had doused him in his own liquor. With more than enough malice to cow the pathetic human the elemental seethed in barely contained rage, "You will hold your pathetic tongue when you speak to my mate or I'll incinerate it right out of your worthless mouth! Now take your wretched corpse out of my business before I remove you myself! And if you have even a shred of common sense you will never return! Now get OUT!!!" The human stared in mounting horror as Grillby clutched the glass in his fist in an iron grip. And the longer he spoke the more the glass warped until it was red hot and dripping out of his closed fist and pouring onto the wooden counter with an acrid sizzle. Grillby watched in smug satisfaction as the human's brain finally seemed to catch up and kick itself into gear as he scrambled away from the bartender and out of his bar, with his group following right after him. None of them had said a word, nor had they stepped in to help him. They seemed to have a better preservation sense than he did. The bartender's flames settled down and with he relaxed so did everyone else in the bar. Zoey giggled as she gently hovered near his side, her cheeks a darker blue than usual. She loved when Grillby got all protective, even though it wasn't really necessary. Being a ghost meant nobody could physically harm her, but her spicy sweetie never failed to keep people from trying to hurt her emotionally. The big softy~ The rest of the evening she couldn't help the loving gaze she got on her face whenever she looked at her husband. <3